Diabolick!
(Byron's governess, May Gray, would come to bed with him at night
and 'play tricks with his person'. According to Byron, this 'caused
the anticipated melancholy of my thoughts—having anticipated life') .
I lay awake, most every night,
Tucked in my bed at Aberdeen,
And waited for that footstep light,
My Governess, my Demon Queen.
I was but nine, or ten at most
When she climbed underneath my sheet,
I heard her breathing in my head
Her hands, ice cold about my feet.
And she would whisper soft to me
Would play strange tricks to rouse me there,
My teeth would chatter in my sleep,
Across my face, her perfumed hair.
Her lips were red, would seek my mouth
And I would gasp to catch each breath,
While she would threaten, 'make no sound,
Or you may seek the shades of death! '
Then she would mount, and raise her gown
And smother me beneath her sex,
While I would, desperate, look around
No Saviour came, no God protects!
My mother's alcoholic breath
Lay snoring in her favourite chair,
She called me lame, a little brat,
I saw no mother's instinct there.
The Governess, May Gray abused,
And beat me almost every day,
What chance had I to live and love
With women, in the normal way?
I lived, anticipated life
Before that I was even ten,
And so I rated womankind,
I loved and cursed them, even then.
So judge me not! My life was filled
With scandals that re-crossed my path,
And Caroline was most unkind
When she composed my epitaph.
She wrote the words you know me by
Once I had sought to let her go,
She sat in silence, scrawled the words,
'Mad, bad, and dangerous to know! '
30 May 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Related quotes
Grandma
Knots and tangles in my hair,
grandma sitting on her chair,
me in front on a stool so low,
brushes and combs all in a row.
Grandma would wash it every day,
Saying 'We do this first, then you play.'
Waiting for the feel of every pull,
this became our ritual.
I anticipated every tug.
When we finished we would hug.
But before I'd leave she'd make a bow,
all different colors she'd use to show
that my hair was something she loved to see.
It was long and shiny black, like ebony.
I treasure her looks and the moments spent,
the combs, the brushes and her looks of content.
My grandma made me feel like a queen,
like the prettiest thing she'd ever seen.
Now as my hair is turning gray
I remember the words she used to say,
'Sit down dolly and I'll comb your hair.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Whirlwords
when you enter this room
you will meet us
you look at our faces
wearing different masks
when you smell us
you begin to think of dog's hair
you will be confused like a swirling door
we anticipated that from the beginning
scents interchange and
manners well studied get unpredicted
each gesture is mastered but
switching hands become a habit
you try the way we sound like moooo
listening carefully we waver for another idea
we anticipated that too
we have exchanged our tongues for some lips
not to be outwitted
you listen to the beatings of our hearts like native drums
you have heard everything from 'asshole' to 'zezbomba! '
now you have known me but who knows if
i have filled myself like a hot balloon
and then i am no longer there except the grass and the heat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dreams
Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
Figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
These dreams in the mist
Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
Is it cloak n dagger
Could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
There's something out there
I can't resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There's something out there
I can't resist
The sweetest song is silence
That I've ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away
song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have You Seen
Have you ever seen a sunrise on the ocean?
Slowly climbing to the sky that GOD
Has given to you and I.
Or a star shooting across the sky
Colors so bright they hypnotize.
What about a double rainbow?
I had seen it just once in my life
One high in the sky and the other low
The colors given was such a show.
The sunset in the Florida keys is
Like a child covering itself up
From the cold, a wonder to behold.
What about a child in pain
No two faces are ever the same.
Or a child who has been abused
And the fears in their eyes
Every time that person comes by.
Have you seen the hunger in an
Elders face and the trembling in their hands
As they walk this- so called promised land.
Have you seen the lives taken in a war
And the bodies laying on the ground
And no more from their lips, you will hear a sound.
Have you seen a heart broken in two
And they don’t know what to do.
Have you seen a loved one, gasp for their
Last breath in this life.
Some things you have seen, and others you have not.
The biggest question thou is:
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THE FACE OF GOD?
No! and you may not in your life time.
But you do not have to see to know that they exist.
Look at the ugly, but seek the beauties that he is giving us.
And thank him every day, for in his heart is where
We will always stay.
Look in your heart and you will find, what GOD
has given is a love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
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Green And Gray
I'm in a room full of people, hanging on one person's breath. We would all vote him most likely to be loved to death. I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when, he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten. That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away. I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray. We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost. With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
He says "Green is the color everyone sees al around me. Gray is the color I see around her, and she's just a blur." The more the corwd cheers, the less I can hear and they don't really care what I play. It might be for her. But for now it's between green and gray.
We paid and we cheered. Now we're gone and to us that feels right. But for him every one of those evenings turns into a night. With another hotel room where he lays awake to pretend that he's doing fine with his notebook and discman for friends.
He says "Green is the color everyone sees al around me. Gray is the color I see around her, and she's just a blur." Night after night what I hear, what I write fills the room and my head starts to sway. It might be for her, but for now it's between green and gray.
I want you to love me, he whispers, unable to speak. And he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak. Then he awoke. Now he's scared to death somebody heard. If it was you, and you know her, please don't say a word.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Return
The grass was gray with the moonlit dew,
The stones were white as I came through;
I came down the path by the thirteen yews,
Through the blocks of shade that the moonlight hews.
And when I came to the high lych-gate
I waited awhile where the corpses wait;
Then I came down the road where the moonlight lay
Like the fallen ghost of the light of day.
The bats shrieked high in their zigzag flight,
The owls' spread wings were quiet and white,
The wind and the poplar gave sigh for sigh,
And all about were the rustling shy
Little live creatures that love the night -
Little wild creatures timid and free.
I passed, and they were not afraid of me.
It was over the meadow and down the lane
The way to come to my house again:
Through the wood where the lovers talk,
And the ghosts, they say, get leave to walk.
I wore the clothes that we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there,
No one saw my pale feet pass
By my garden path to my garden grass.
My garden was hung with the veil of spring -
Plum-tree and pear-tree blossoming;
It lay in the moon's cold sheet of light
In garlands and silence, wondrous and white
As a dead bride decked for her burying.
Then I saw the face of my house
Held close in the arms of the blossomed boughs:
I leaned my face to the window bright
To feel if the heart of my house beat right.
The firelight hung it with fitful gold;
It was warm as the house of the dead is cold.
I saw the settles, the candles tall,
The black-faced presses against the wall,
Polished beechwood and shining brass,
The gleam of china, the glitter of glass,
All the little things that were home to me -
Everything as it used to be.
Then I said, 'The fire of life still burns,
And I have returned whence none returns:
I will warm my hands where the fire is lit,
I will warm my heart in the heart of it!'
So I called aloud to the one within:
'Open, open, and let me in!
Let me in to the fire and the light -
It is very cold out here in the night!'
There was never a stir or an answering breath -
Only a silence as deep as death.
Then I beat on the window, and called, and cried.
No one heard me, and none replied.
The golden silence lay warm and deep,
And I wept as the dead, forgotten, weep;
And there was no one to hear or see -
To comfort me, to have pity on me.
But deep in the silence something stirred -
Something that had not seen or heard -
And two drew near to the window-pane,
Kissed in the moonlight and kissed again,
And looked, through my face, to the moon-shroud, spread
Over the garlanded garden bed;
And--'How ghostly the moonlight is!' she said.
Back through the garden, the wood, the lane,
I came to mine own place again.
I wore the garments we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there.
No one heard my thin feet pass
Through the white of the stones and the gray of the grass,
Along the path where the moonlight hews
Slabs of shadow for thirteen yews.
In the hollow where drifted dreams lie deep
It is good to sleep: it was good to sleep:
But my bed has grown cold with the drip of the dew,
And I cannot sleep as I used to do.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do I Love You?
when you enter this room
you will meet us
you look at our faces
wearing different masks
when you smell us
as though we are dogs
you will be confused
we anticipated that
scents interchanged and
manners well studied
each gesture is mastered
switching hands
you try the way we sound
listening carefully
we anticipated that too
we have exchanged our tongues
not to be outwitted
you listen to the beatings of our heart
you heard it, and perhaps
now you have known the truth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Willow-Tree (Another Version)
I.
Long by the willow-trees
Vainly they sought her,
Wild rang the mother's screams
O'er the gray water:
'Where is my lovely one?
Where is my daughter?
II.
'Rouse thee, sir constable—
Rouse thee and look;
Fisherman, bring your net,
Boatman your hook.
Beat in the lily-beds,
Dive in the brook!'
III.
Vainly the constable
Shouted and called her;
Vainly the fisherman
Beat the green alder,
Vainly he flung the net,
Never it hauled her!
IV.
Mother beside the fire
Sat, her nightcap in;
Father, in easy chair,
Gloomily napping,
When at the window-sill
Came a light tapping!
V.
And a pale countenance
Looked through the casement.
Loud beat the mother's heart,
Sick with amazement,
And at the vision which
Came to surprise her,
Shrieked in an agony—
'Lor! it's Elizar!'
VI
Yes, 'twas Elizabeth—
Yes, 'twas their girl;
Pale was her cheek, and her
Hair out of curl.
'Mother!' the loving one,
Blushing, exclaimed,
'Let not your innocent
Lizzy be blamed.
VII.
'Yesterday, going to aunt
Jones's to tea,
Mother, dear mother, I
FORGOT THE DOOR-KEY!
And as the night was cold,
And the way steep,
Mrs. Jones kept me to
Breakfast and sleep.'
VIII.
Whether her Pa and Ma
Fully believed her,
That we shall never know,
Stern they received her;
And for the work of that
Cruel, though short, night,
Sent her to bed without
Tea for a fortnight.
IX.
MORAL
Hey diddle diddlety,
Cat and the Fiddlety,
Maidens of England take caution by she!
Let love and suicide
Never tempt you aside,
And always remember to take the door-key.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades Of Gray (Master Backing Track Take 98)
When the world and I were young, just yesterday
Life was such a simple game a child could play
It was easy then to tell right from wrong
Easy then to tell weak from strong
When a man should stand and fight
Or just go along
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
I remember when the answer seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt, or tasted fear
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate
The foolish from the wise
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
Only shades of gray
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Match
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pasture or gray grief;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf.
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune,
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle,
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon;
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune.
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death,
We'd shine and snow together
Ere March made sweet the weather
With daffodil and starling
And hours of fruitful breath;
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death.
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy,
We'd play for lives and seasons
With loving looks and treasons
And tears of night and morrow
And laughs of maid and boy;
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy.
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May,
We'd throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers,
Till day like night were shady
And night were bright like day;
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May.
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain,
We'd hunt down love together,
Pluck out his flying-feather,
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein;
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez
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I am just a Child of Beloved nature!
I am not that,
I am not this,
I am that words can't say,
Just like unpredictable,
I Live like child of the nature,
Having sunshine in my mind,
Having cloudy sky too,
Just like a child playing with mother,
I see stars in her sky reflect in my eyes,
Those stars also brighten my dreams!
My need she fulfills,
For my questions she responds with great answers,
I am loving my mother,
I dance with her jumping with frogs and flying with butterflies,
Singing with birds,
mew with kittens, playing with puppy,
Seeing all of them as my own,
I am the child and never like to live more than that!
Life is not real for me,
Just flow of time make me sleep, dream and awake,
Work is my play, problems are quiz,
Whole life is not a puzzle,
Only wonderful play of rainbow of colourful light,
Pain or happiness are momentary,
I feel everything temporary,
Self is that playing with self alone,
Self is that ever like to live like a kid,
neither born nor die,
Never aging truth beyond time is me!
I am a part of its play,
I have to play a role,
I learn to act and play my role,
years after years roll,
I too roll life after life,
Yet remain as kid for ever!
I complain about my pain,
She has that ever soft hands to wipe tears!
When I am sad, she sends birds to sing for me,
when I am mad, she has that teacher to correct me,
She is my beloved mother, I am her loving kid!
I am learning what I am,
She teach me well with all love!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phyllis
PHYLLIS, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day,
Few are my years, but my griefs are not few,
Ever to youth should each day be a May-day,
Warm wind and rose-breath and diamonded dew—
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Oh for the sunlight that shines on a May-day!
Only the cloud hangeth over my life.
Love that should bring me youth's happiest heyday
Brings me but seasons of sorrow and strife:
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
Sunshine or shadow, or gold day or gray day,
Life must be lived as our destinies rule;
Leisure or labor or work day or play day—
Feasts for the famous and fun for the fool;
Phyllis, ah, Phyllis, my life is a gray day.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green & Gray
Im in a room full of people, hanging on one persons breath.
We would all vote him most likely to be loved to death.
I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when,
He aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten.
That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away.
I dont know where it landed, but Im guessing between green and gray.
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost.
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
He says green is the color everyone sees al around me.
Gray is the color I see around her, and shes just a blur.
The more the corwd cheers, the less I can hear
And they dont really care what I play. it might be for her.
But for now its between green and gray.
We paid and we cheered. now were gone and to us that feels right.
But for him every one of those evenings turns into a night.
With another hotel room where he lays awake to pretend
That hes doing fine with his notebook and discman for friends.
He says green is the color everyone sees al around me.
Gray is the color I see around her, and shes just a blur.
Night after night what I hear, what I write fills the room
And my head starts to sway. it might be for her,
But for now its between green and gray.
I want you to love me, he whispers, unable to speak.
And he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak.
Then he awoke. now hes scared to death somebody heard.
If it was you, and you know her, please dont say a word.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stone
"And will you cut a stone for him,
To set above his head?
And will you cut a stone for him--
A stone for him?" she said.
Three days before, a splintered rock
Had struck her lover dead--
Had struck him in the quarry dead,
Where, careless of a warning call,
He loitered, while the shot was fired--
A lively stripling, brave and tall,
And sure of all his heart desired . . .
A flash, a shock,
A rumbling fall . . .
And, broken 'neath the broken rock,
A lifeless heap, with face of clay,
And still as any stone he lay,
With eyes that saw the end of all.
I went to break the news to her:
And I could hear my own heart beat
With dread of what my lips might say;
But some poor fool had sped before;
And, flinging wide her father's door,
Had blurted out the news to her,
Had struck her lover dead for her,
Had struck the girl's heart dead in her,
Had struck life, lifeless, at a word,
And dropped it at her feet:
Then hurried on his witless way,
Scarce knowing she had heard.
And when I came, she stood alone--
A woman, turned to stone:
And, though no word at all she said,
I knew that all was known.
Because her heart was dead,
She did not sigh nor moan.
His mother wept:
She could not weep.
Her lover slept:
She could not sleep.
Three days, three nights,
She did not stir:
Three days, three nights,
Were one to her,
Who never closed her eyes
From sunset to sunrise,
From dawn to evenfall--
Her tearless, staring eyes,
That, seeing naught, saw all.
The fourth night when I came from work,
I found her at my door.
"And will you cut a stone for him?"
She said: and spoke no more:
But followed me, as I went in,
And sank upon a chair;
And fixed her grey eyes on my face,
With still, unseeing stare.
And, as she waited patiently,
I could not bear to feel
Those still, grey eyes that followed me,
Those eyes that plucked the heart from me,
Those eyes that sucked the breath from me
And curdled the warm blood in me,
Those eyes that cut me to the bone,
And cut my marrow like cold steel.
And so I rose and sought a stone;
And cut it smooth and square:
And, as I worked, she sat and watched,
Beside me, in her chair.
Night after night, by candlelight,
I cut her lover's name:
Night after night, so still and white,
And like a ghost she came;
And sat beside me, in her chair,
And watched with eyes aflame.
She eyed each stroke,
And hardly stirred:
she never spoke
A single word:
And not a sound or murmur broke
The quiet, save the mallet stroke.
With still eyes ever on my hands,
With eyes that seemed to burn my hands,
My wincing, overwearied hands,
She watched, with bloodless lips apart,
And silent, indrawn breath:
And every stroke my chisel cut,
Death cut still deeper in her heart:
The two of us were chiselling,
Together, I and Death.
And when at length my job was done,
And I had laid the mallet by,
As if, at last, her peace were won,
She breathed his name, and, with a sigh,
Passed slowly through the open door:
And never crossed my threshold more.
Next night I laboured late, alone,
To cut her name upon the stone.
poem by Wilfred Wilson Gibson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades Of Gray
By barry mann and cyntha weil
When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Live was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
I remember when the answers seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate,
The foolish from the wise.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
[instumental interlude]
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share.
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
Only shades of gray.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent Dreams
Oh to have silence come into my sleep
Just for a few small hours.
But no the noisy words disrupt me
Like bees buzzing ‘round the flowers.
Small phrases get caught in my head
And become pictures that I see.
And I know they are only in my dreams
But they repeat continuously.
Take leave I say and allow me rest.
Please find another one
To keep awake with words and sound
Before the morning sun/
What lies beyond these countless nights?
Is there silence anywhere?
I've heard that beyond unconsciousness
That telepathy makes us aware.
And so am I in search of death you ask?
No that's not what I now seek.
Just a little silent sleep at night
Even if it's just for a week.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Jesus Was An Only Son
Jesus was an only son
As he walked up Calvary Hill
His mother Mary walking beside him
In the path where his blood spilled
Jesus was an only son
In the hills of Nazareth
As he lay reading the Psalms of David
At his mother's feet
A mother prays, "Sleep tight, my child, sleep well
For I'll be at your side
That no shadow, no darkness, no tolling bell,
Shall pierce your dreams this night"
In the garden at Gethsemane
He prayed for the life he'd never live,
He beseeched his Heavenly Father to remove
The cup of death from his lips
Now there's a loss that can never be replaced,
A destination that can never be reached
A light you'll never find in another's face,
A sea whose distance cannot be breached
Well Jesus kissed his mother's hands
Whispered, "Mother, still your tears,
For remember the soul of the universe
Willed a world and it appeared
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Play Me A Whisper
play me a whisper in my ear
where i
whimper
and tremble
in desire
(that is your
word not mine)
play me softly a whisper of love
in my hair
i let you
and tell you how it means to me
play it on
turn me on, i let you know how much it means
to me
my hair thinking my skin whimpering
let me have your whisper
now not in my ear
let it be in my mouth
let it stay
let it stray inside my tongue
play me a little soft whisper
not in my mouth now
but in my heart
let it stay there for a while
and then play me another whisper
not in my heart now
let it be inside my guts
down in my belly
let it go deeper
let it escape in the toes of my feet and let this whisper
dissolve in a distance in the infinite silence of the space
between us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Life
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
Oh the neons are a gleamin and the gamblers are a dreamin
Oh its night life, yeh! night life
The chips are a spillin and its time to make a killin
Oh its night life, yeh! night life
Oh the pockets are a-burnin and the money flies
With dice roll a-turnin and youll hit snakes eyes
You cant be a quitter when youre caught up in the glitter of
Night life night life
Therere long legged women who will take you for a trimmin yes its night life
Oh night life.
Their lips taste like honey but theyre out to spend your money
Yes its night life. oh yeh!
Just roll that seven and youll hear them shriek
When seven come eleven its a lucky streak
You cant beat the drama, the excitement and the glamour
Of the night life, I said that night life
So place your bet, come on make your play
Though you may regret it at the break of day
I said you cant be a quitter when youre caught up in the glitter of
Night life night life
Yeh! that night life, good ol night life
Night life, yes, yes, night life, oh night life
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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