I'm tired of being around men all the time. I'm going to start a band called Skirt with three girls and I'll play the guitar and sing backing vocals in drag. I went window shopping when I was in New York, saw a lot of amazing dresses.
quote by Brian Molko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
There are a lot of people using technology that are playing to a click with backing vocals already stuck in there on some computerized thing that runs along in time to the show so they have these amazing vocals that are only partly the guys on stage producing them at the time.
quote by James Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Guitar Man
They call me the guitar man.
Cause I can really bend those strings.
I no longer play in a band,
But I can make my guitar sing.
There ain't nothing I can't play,
I carry music in my soul.
I play better than yesterday,
I can play some solid gold.
My acoustic Alvarez,
Can either sing or cry.
I thank the Lord, that he has blessed,
My guitar and me from on high.
If you're ever down in Texas,
Come and see this guitar man.
I don't look at all like Elvis,
But I do the best I can.
Ask around and you will see.
That I am not so hard to find.
If you hear music, thats where I'll be,
So come on down, if your'e inclined.
9/5/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Sad Guitar (In Iraq)
When I play...my sad guitar,
With powered chords...of deep emotion.
I strum the strings...with such devotion,
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
In a bunker, built in the sand.
This war torn country, this desert land,
I miss playing...In a rock and roll band.
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
My memories play,
Deep in my mind,
I try to find-
Our... wedding... day!
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
I think of my Harley...My hot-rod car,
Wishing I was home,
With a beer in a bar.
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
poem by Philip Lore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Actually, there was another band where we were three girls, around '84 when I met John Zorn, called Sunset Chorus. It was just bass and drums and guitar- we didn't make any records but we played a lot of different clubs in New York.
Black Girls
I dig the black girls, oh so much more than the white girls.
I was so pleased to learn they were faster.
Cest, cest, cest vous Im after.
All comes a faggot white boy.
Said look, look, look first kind of joy.
They come around so queer and quiet,
As I rebel and riot.
Shall I dig the white boys?
All so much more that the black boys.
I was so pleased to learn theyre not smarter.
Go on, give, give, give it to me harder, harder, harder, just say harded.
You know I love the lord of hosts,
The father, son, and the holy ghost.
I was so pleased to learn that hes inside me
In my time of trouble he will hide me.
I dig the black girls.
I dig the black girls.
I dig the black girls.
I dig the black girls.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: electric bass, slide bass, jews harp, vocals
Victor delorenzo:drums,vocals
John zorn: sax, clarinet peter balestrieri: sax drake scott cornetto
Produced by mark van hecke
Recorded at secret sound studio, new york city
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York City
Standing on the corner
Just me and yoko ono
We was waiting for jerry to land
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand
Singing, have a marijuana if you can
His name was david peel
And we found that he was real
He sang, the pope smokes dope every day
Up come a policeman shoved us up the street
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Well down to maxs kansas city
Got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band
Laid something down
As the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band!
And we played some funky boogie
And laid some tutti frutti
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacherman trying to be a teacher
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Well we did the staten island ferry
Making movies for the telly
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom
Tried to shake our image
Just a cycling through the village
But found that we had left it back in london
Well nobody came to bug us
Hustle us or shove us
So we decided to make it our home
If the man wants to shove us out
We gonna jump and shout
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
New york city...back in new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crazy Dave
He fronts the band so tall he stands his name is crazy Dave
He fronts the band this tall thin man his name is crazy Dave
Like a snake he moves to rock he groove yes that’s crazy Dave
He’s a rock man who fronts the band
He’s the rock man with the band
Play. Play. Play crazy Dave
Its rock and roll played from his sole
he’s scared to make a mistake
As he twists and turns the music burns
and the crowd start to rave.
Its all the same in his brain
As he plays guitar for fun
The riffs he strums as his guitar hums
Play. Play. Play. crazy Dave
The sounds are high his stings cry
As he hit those high notes
A C D C aerosmith petty and status quo
Crazy Dave had to be brave as he played his rock and role
Play. Play. Play crazy Dave
poem by John Mc Cudden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tired Old Country Song
Regi price/jl vanderford
Another day, another night
Another tired old country song
You know, I sing of love delight
But I know its all wrong
The life I live out on the road
Is one I swear no one could love
Yet I feel I must go on
And sing this tired
This tired old country song
I move around from place to place
But all the towns look just the same
I see the same old face
Losin still my claim to fame
Ill sing the guitar blues
Drink my drink and pay the dues
Then I guess Ill ramble on
And sing this tired
This tired old country song
Why did I have to compromise
To reach my piece of the fame?
Life could have been so different
In that eight to five game
So I guess Ill settle down
Get my feet back on the ground
Once a country star
Now Im just a country clown
Hang my guitar on the wall
I wont need it anymore
For I think the time has come
To end this tired
This tired old country song
To end this tired
This tired old country song
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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South Beach
Zombies and ex-presidents,
Kissing cousins, try to make friends
With little girls in bright blue bonnets
Waiting for their mothers by the bus stop
Under the banyan trees in South Miami-
They all go together unaccompanied
By the sun, to shopping malls where
They used to sell their blindfolded brothers as slaves
Who could not see the desperate Cubans
In their rafts being circled by sharks
Being circled by the Coast Guard so close to South Beach-
Here pink fellows play Russian Roulette
With the venereal diseases of their loneliness:
Its cliché, but they all have bichon frises as pets,
And sing in dresses in the cabaret on Tuesdays
And live in lonely little apartments
Overlooking parking lots, overlooking the sea
Where spotty mermaids, the part time whores,
Wash their scabby knees in the salt and sing
Melodies of lost memories, to the little girls’ parade,
All done up in blue and pink ribbon,
Like packages with legs when they grow up
For the influential men, politicians and
Flesh hungry zombies, the sororities, like veil,
The tiny stalls they are made to live in, and taught
To bedazzle over looking the sea,
Waiting for the bus to pick them up after shopping:
The zombies, ex-presidents, little girls, and me.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New York City
Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for jerry to land.
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Singing, have a marijuana, if you can.
His name was david peel and we found that he was real,
He sang, the pope smokes dope evryday.
Up come a policeman, shoved us of the street,
Singing, power to the people today.
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, down to maxs, kansas city, got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Well, we played some funky boogie, and laid some tutti fritti,
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacher man, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ha! ha!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey!
Oh yeah!
Hey! new york city!
Alright, new york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, we did the staten island ferry, making movies for the telly,
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom.
Tried to shake our image, just a-cycling through the village,
But we found that we had left it back in london.
Well, nobody came to bug us, hustle us or shove us,
We decided to make it our home.
If the man wants to shove us out, we gonna jump and shout,
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Oh, new york!
Uh, uh, uh.
Well, new york, yeh,
Alright!
Oh, new york city!
Back in new york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ass city!
Down in the village,
Yeah, what a city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Yeah, rock on!
Ow! uh!
Yeah!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! what a bad, bad city!
Bad-ass city!
Bad-ass city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey, city! city!
Another version
--------------------------------
Recorded live at the madison square garden, new york, n.y. 30 august 1972
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Two, three, four!
Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for her hour to land,
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Have marijuana if you can.
Well, his name was david peel
And we found that he was real,
The pope smokes dope evry day.
Up come the police, shoved us off the street,
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city!
Madison square garden!
Hey!
Whats happenin, man?
Went back to kansas city, laid down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Played some tutti frutti and played some funky boogie,
Long tall sallys a man!
Up come the preacherman, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey!
Ow!
Ooh!
Well, new york city, babe!
New york!
New york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Down in the village!
New york city!
Come on, hit it!
Ah, what a bad ass city!
Yeah!
Roll over!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York City
Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for jerry to land.
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Singing, have a marijuana, if you can.
His name was david peel and we found that he was real,
He sang, the pope smokes dope evryday.
Up come a policeman, shoved us of the street,
Singing, power to the people today.
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, down to maxs, kansas city, got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Well, we played some funky boogie, and laid some tutti fritti,
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacher man, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ha! ha!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey!
Oh yeah!
Hey! new york city!
Alright, new york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, we did the staten island ferry, making movies for the telly,
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom.
Tried to shake our image, just a-cycling through the village,
But we found that we had left it back in london.
Well, nobody came to bug us, hustle us or shove us,
We decided to make it our home.
If the man wants to shove us out, we gonna jump and shout,
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Oh, new york!
Uh, uh, uh.
Well, new york, yeh,
Alright!
Oh, new york city!
Back in new york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ass city!
Down in the village,
Yeah, what a city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Yeah, rock on!
Ow! uh!
Yeah!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! what a bad, bad city!
Bad-ass city!
Bad-ass city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey, city! city!
Another version
--------------------------------
Recorded live at the madison square garden, new york, n.y. 30 august 1972
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Power to the people!
Two, three, four!
Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for her hour to land,
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Have marijuana if you can.
Well, his name was david peel
And we found that he was real,
The pope smokes dope evry day.
Up come the police, shoved us off the street,
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city!
Madison square garden!
Hey!
Whats happenin, man?
Went back to kansas city, laid down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Played some tutti frutti and played some funky boogie,
Long tall sallys a man!
Up come the preacherman, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey!
Ow!
Ooh!
Well, new york city, babe!
New york!
New york city!
Yeah, new york city!
Down in the village!
New york city!
Come on, hit it!
Ah, what a bad ass city!
Yeah!
Roll over!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shopping For Dresses (feat. Loretta Lynn)
Jimmie Dickens, Merle Haggard, R. Q. Jackson
Down through the ages men have died for women
And done so for many times
Each time I loved one, I ve always lost one
Seems the right one is so hard to find.
Shopping for dresses with no one to wear them
One in each color, one in each style.
I ll find a lady someday to wear them,
My shopping will be done for awhile.
I ll bet somewhere s a lady shopping for britches
Comparing the value, appraising each pair.
Maybe someday the Lord will bring us together
And we ll both have a new wardrobe to wear
Shopping for dresses with no one to wear them
One in each color and one in each style.
Maybe someday if I'm lucky
I ll find someone to wear them
And my shopping will be done for awhile.
My shopping will be done for awhile.
I m looking for a lady who ll look good in dresses
She must be red-headed, green eyes and be fair.
I ll make exceptions to all my requirements
As long as she s willing to care.
Chorus:
I just saw a beauty with blue eyes, what a cutie
Bond hair like a halo around her did flow,
But the brunette beside her would be just as lovely
In the dresses I bought long ago.
Chorus:
Now as I sit here dreaming, planning and scheming,
Why should I make standards when everyone knows
As your need ranges, women make changes
And you must accept them or just let them go.
Chorus:
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can Play (Lyrics) :
He didn't give himself up to fear.
And his voice had a life of its own.
He didn't give himself up for broke.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar', 'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
He didn't give himself up to drinking beer.
His voice still had a life of its own.
And he didn't give himself up for smoke.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
He didn't give himself up to curcumstance.
Always tried to make it alone.
He didn't give himself up to telling lies.
His honesty was already shown.
Always kept himself up to par.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'...
Rock Lyric By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1987,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Fighting
Everywhere I hear the sound of marching feet, boy
Cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
But what can a poor boy do
cept to sing for a rock n roll band
Cause in sleepy london town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
No!
Hey! think the time is right for a palace revolution
But where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well, what can a poor boy do
cept to sing for a rock n roll band
Cause in sleepy london town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
No!
No!
No!
Guitar!
Hey! said my name is called disturbance
Ill shout and scream, Ill kill the king, Ill rail at all his servants
Well, what can a poor boy do
cept to sing in a rock n roll band
Cause in sleepy london town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
No!
No!
No!
song performed by by Oasis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guitar And Pen
You're alone above the street somewhere
Wondering how you'll ever count out there
You can walk, you can talk, you can fight
But inside you've got something to write
In your hand you hold your only pen
Never spend your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up
When you're kicking the fence and still nothing will budge
When the words are immobile until you sit down
Never feel they're worth keeping, they're not easily found
Then you know in some strange unexplainable way
You must really have something
Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away
Important to say
When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream
And you swear and you curse cos the rhyming ain't clean
But it suddenly comes after years of delay
You pick up your guitar and you can suddenly play
When your fingers are bleeding and your knuckles are white
Then you can be sure, you can open the door
Get up of the floor tonight
You have something to write
When you wanna complain there's no one can stop you
But when your music proclaims there's no one can top you
You are wearing your heart on your jumping feet
You've got a head start away from the street
But is that what you want, to be rich and be gone
Could be there's just one thing left in the end
Your guitar and your pen
When you sing to your Mum and you hum and you croon
And she says that she'd like it with more of a tune
And you smash your guitar at the end of the bed
Then you stick it together and start writing again
And you know that it won't be too long till your back -
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cherry In Your Tree
Copyright 1993 emi virgin song inc. o.b.o.
Emi virgin limited
Composer: andy partridge
Andy partridge - vocals, guitar, percussion, claps
Colin moulding - bass, harmony vocals, claps
Dave gregory - good natured ghost effects
With
Brian doherty - drums
Garo yellin - cello
David yazbek - keyboards, backing vocals, claps
Sean altman - backing vocals
Produced by david yazbek
Chorus:
Cherry cherry in your tree
Jump down on the ground and make a pie with me
Cherry cherry in your tree
Jump down on the ground and make a pie with me
I got toys like the other boys
Come down from your tree now
I can set you free now
I got toys like the other boys
For baking love with you
For baking love with you
Chorus
Im the cook who wrote the book
Pour a little soul now
Right into the bowl now
Im the cook who wrote the book
On baking love with you
On baking love with you
Cherry in your tree now
Do you love just me now
Im the chef of the treble clef
Roll into the flour now
Knead it for an hour now
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Of A Sudden (It's Too Late)
W W W hat can I say? why do we starve a thing that near
W w W w W extinction? from day to day these weeds of fear
W W W are choking our conviction life's like a jig-saw
WWW WWW you get the straight bits but there's something missing
in the middle. all of a sudden we find the cupboard's bare
all of a sudden we find heaven's not there all of a sudden
we find the sun's gone cold all of a sudden we find we're
more than old all of a sudden we find that we've lost love
so please don't push or shove because it's too late it's too late
in all your hurry you've accidentally locked the gate
what can we do? trying to stem the flow of sand is useless.
it's up to you start holding hands and watch the balance redress
life's like a firework you're only lit once and you must stand
and radiate correctly. all of a sudden we find the-
cupboard's bare all of a sudden we find heaven's not there
all of a sudden we find the sun's gone cold all of a sudden
we find we're more than old all of a sudden we find that
we've lost love so please don't push or shove because it's
too late it's too late in all your hurry you've accidentally
locked the gate. love's not a product you can hoard or
pack a suitcase with it's more a way you have to give.
all of a sudden we find the cupboard's bare all of a sudden
we find heaven's not there all of a sudden we find the sun's
gone cold all of a sudden we find we're more than old
all of a sudden we find that we've lost love so please don't
push or shove because it's too late it's too late in all
your hurry you've accidentally locked the gate.
andy - lead and backing vocals, acoustic guitar colin - fretless
bass, backing vocals dave - electric 12-string guitar terry -
drums and percussion composed by a. partridge
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ebay
Anything you want you're sure to find
just turn on your Pc and go online
In the google search bar Type in EBAY
and start your shopping without delay
Designer dresses from a tenner
Tattoo's containing natural Henna...
Shhhhhhh Perfume by Jade Goody (RIP)
and an FCUK Knitted Hoodie
Buy it now or Bidding from..
don't miss out, cos it's ending soon..
So much choice where do I start...
but with my money I must part...
Forget the queues in shopping malls
EBAY really has it all.....
poem by Tracey TEE
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Playing The Guitar
Oh what a joy to hear him
play the guitar and sing!
When he sings and
play the guitar,
he puts his heart and
soul into it.
Oh what a voice!
I could hear him all day
all night
and never get tired.
He entranced me by his music.
His music is like
listening to angels
plucking the harp.
That’s how good he is
he doesn’t think so!
I know better!
For I should know! I should know!
He’s my husband.
For I am his number one fan.
poem by Noreen Ann Jenkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guitar Man
(words & music by hubbard)
Well, I quit my job down at the car wash,
Left my mama a goodbye note,
By sundown Id left kingston,
With my guitar under my coat,
I hitchhiked all the way down to memphis,
Got a room at the ymca,
For the next three weeks I went huntin them nights,
Just lookin for a place to play,
Well, I thought my pickin would set em on fire,
But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man.
Well, I nearly bout starved to death down in memphis,
I run outta money and luck,
So I bought me a ride down to macon, georgia,
On a overloaded poultry truck,
I thumbed on down to panama city,
Started pickin out some o them all night bars,
Hopin I could make myself a dollar,
Makin music on my guitar,
I got the same old story at them all night piers,
There aint no room around here for a guitar man
We dont need a guitar man, son
So I slept in the hobo jungles,
Roamed a thousand miles of track,
Till I found myself in mobile alabama,
At a club they call big jacks,
A little four-piece band was jammin,
So I took my guitar and I sat in,
I showed em what a band would sound like,
With a swingin little guitar man.
Show em, son
If you ever take a trip down to the ocean,
Find yourself down around mobile,
Make it on out to a club called jacks,
If you got a little time to kill,
Just follow that crowd of people,
Youll wind up out on his dance floor,
Diggin the finest little five-piece group,
Up and down the gulf of mexico,
Guess whos leadin that five-piece band,
Well, wouldnt ya know, its that swingin little guitar man.
The tv-special verse:
Well, I came a long way from the carwash,
Got to where I said Id get
Now that Im here I know for sure
I really aint got there yet
Think Ill start all over
Swing my guitar over my back
Im gonna get myself back on the track
Ill never, never ever look back
Ill never be more than what I am
Wouldnt you know
I m a swinging little guitar man
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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