Megalith (Homage to the Macedonian poet Mateja Matevski)
The forests have shrunk back to the forest
holed up with the howl
of the last wolf -
the sound of time dying.
The seas have drained back to Sargasso
soup-thick with their dead:
the stench of time threshing.
And some of the old stones dragged and stood up
at the flinty beginning of hatred
by the river that once was
still stand, only half-wrecked,
their fissures expressionless.
poem by Anthony Weir
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Related quotes
Forgotten River
The forgotten river,
Lonely in the thick forest waitinf for your love;
The forgotten river,
Lovely and nicely prepared for your muse in the thick forest;
But, the big ship has now collided on the high seas! !
Maturiy of character,
Along the coast of Italy! !
But, it is an extraordinary thing that someone recommended for you;
For, i am the forgotten river in the thick forest.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Lone White Wolf: The Hunt
As the first day of the new moon creeps into the trees, no wolf among the pack gathers to see the light overcome the darkness to bring in the new day except the lone white wolf. This peculiar wolf is almost solid white except for the black along the length of his nose. It watches over the pack as they peacefully sleep, unaware of his eyes that could protect everything that was soon to come.
Today was the first day of the long hunt for the white wolf. He must bring down an animal that could feed the whole pack for several days, so he could become an official member of the pack, but more importantly, he must prove himself to be one with the pack instead of running alone.
The leader of the wolf pack slowly raises his head like a turtle to look around to see who’s awake. He sees all the wolves are still asleep in a tight circle except the outcast. The leader doesn’t understand why this wolf sleeps alone nor does he understand why the wolf was born white instead of gray. The white wolf stirs from his wakeful sleep. The eyes of the self-proclaimed leader stay on him before moving off to look into the distance searching for all the answers to his questions among the countless trees.
The leader of the wolf pack slowly gets up and walks to the lone wolf and nudges him to sound the morning howl. It was customary for the leader of the wolf pack to do this, but for reasons unknown to any wolf besides the leader, the wolf chose the outcast to sound the howl. The white wolf understands and gives a howl to stir the remaining wolves out of their deep slumber.
Once all the wolves are fully awake and able to comprehend what today is and what it means for the outcast, they realize it is the first day of the new moon. It is the first day of the long hunt. All of the wolves first look to the leader, then to the outcast, then back to the leader wondering who is going to give the special howl to begin the long hunt. No wolf willingly howled the beginning of the long hunt because if the howl was bad, the hunt would go badly, but if the howl was good, the hunt would go smoothly and the hunt would be short. The answer is soon apparent when the eyes of the leader look over the pack to see whose eyes would meet his. None but one pair kept his gaze.
The leader gave a sign, and the wolf began to prepare to give the special howl that would determine the outcome of the hunt. A wolf could not open its muzzle and give an ordinary howl since the hunt would also go badly. To give the special howl the wolf must pull back its hind legs and brace itself to make sure all legs are securely anchored to the ground so that the wolf, while giving the special howl would not slide backwards during the middle of it.
The lone wolf was ready mentally and physically to give the special howl. Once his feet were securely on the ground, the wolf began the howl. The lone white wolf put everything in his howl: the pain of being an outcast his entire life, the anger at his individuality, everything was put into that howl. Wolves stepped back with their fur standing on end; birds flew away squawking bloody murder. The others started yipping and snapping at nothing in particular remembering everything they’d ever felt. After the lone wolf was done, he realized the effect his special howl had on the wolves and he noticed the disarray and confusion that he had caused.
The leader is satisfied and gets the pack into order; it was time to begin the hunt. The wolves began running, their muscles rippling beneath their skin. Nothing could stop them. Their destination was a mile and a half down the road where the large game was located. Running freely among the wolf pack, the lone wolf didn’t feel like an outcast, but whenever he began to get too close, a shallow snip on the shoulder would shove him away to a safer distance.
The game was just ahead; it was time for the lone wolf to prove himself to the pack. The lone wolf went ahead of the pack and picked one of the biggest caribou he could find and slowly approached while the pack followed. The wolves lurched like a bullet from a gun onto the caribou with the white wolf clinging to the exposed flesh of the neck bringing it to the ground but not before it got one last kick in. The kill was successful; the caribou was dead. It was then that the white wolf noticed the bloody mess of the leader of the pack. The last kick of the now dead caribou landed on the skull of the leader, and he was dead instantly. The sight was a grizzly one with his skull caved in and blood gushing out of the wound.
The self-proclaimed leader was dead with no next-in-line to follow. Every wolf looked to the now dead leader, then to the outcast, then back to the dead leader, and then back to the outcast. The white wolf met the eyes of each wolf and got an unspoken request from each one. It was unanimous; the previous outcast of the pack became the leader. For the first time in history, a white wolf was chosen to lead and will lead the wolves to a prosperity the wolves have never known.
2009 October
poem by Matthew Bresette
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Lone Wolf
I sit on this rock
Feeling hopeless inside
A lone wolf am I
I howl at the moon
Wishing it would howl back
If it did I would not feel so lonely inside
Its glow seems to say
Don’t worry it’s going to be alright
But I feel lonely just the same
I wonder if, on this night
There is another wolf
Who also feels hopeless inside
I wish for a friend
Just like me
Who sometimes feels lonely inside
Loneliness is like a pit of darkness
Right where your heart should be
It grasps you and wont lose its hold
Because loneliness is like a great beast
That lives within us all
So, I think, we must try to fight back
But I know one thing for certain
Everyone at one time or another
Is a lone wolf
poem by Giuliana Carder
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After The Scream
after the scream, she takes her needed vacation
in Florence,
takes her silent walks along the boulevard
by the river of Arno,
this is Italy, and the scream had long been forgotten.
it is over she said, my brother is dead, and i am here
working on a plan to survive the pain
of my family
each step is a forgetting.
the sound of her heels on the cobbled stones
must tell another story
something happy, about her love and her coping up
for a new beginning.
her long hair hangs on her thick black coat
the river is a big, wide, long silver
running between two connected
ancient towns of other people's miseries
not hers now. It is over. It is over.
She keeps on telling herself.
she obliges a smile in this picture.
her hands inside her pocket.Her arms
sticking on the side of her
frail, brown body.
Meanwhile, the sun begins
to spread her morning light.
It is time to go.That's what is written
at the back of the picture.
I am looking at it now. I am smiling.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Heart May Be A Lonely Hunter
thick grass
a forest of trees
a man lives there
and his heart is the lonely hunter
maybe
and may be for a time
when the grass is thick and the forest of trees lush
there is a time
for opening
for going and going back home
where mother and father keep the waiting
and your one and only
smiling
waiting for the warm embrace
the sad one
thinking always for your coming
back home
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time, Baby... Just Time!
jail time, heroin time,
back alley shuffle time,
standing in the soup line time....
sleeping in old cars time,
day work, selling blood time,
lost your job, no work time,
lost your house, nowhere time....
get your school in prison time,
radical free thought time,
fighting against the man time...
bum a smoke, a cup of coffee time.
woman done gone, aint coming back time.
food stamps and unemployment time...
kick off your damn chains time.
forgive, and forgiven time...
stand up and fight time,
hands joining hands time...
time, baby... just time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Come back my love
Sunset in forests
Come back my love from trance
Dead stars from gadgets
Smile them a regeance
Come back it is time
To drizzle memories in two
This season of rain
Fills with fear Olympus
To see a lace of deers
Through windows ad-hoc
Procession of crickets Baroque
And fears of the lute
This is the time
When return
All lost trains
Whence does come everyone;
Sunset in forests
Come back my love from trance
On this unknown land
Offer me a last chance
(translated from romanian)
poem by Ion Untaru
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man Gave Names To All The Animals
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to growl,
Big furry paws and he liked to howl,
Great big furry back and furry hair.
Ah, think Ill call it a bear.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal up on a hill
Chewing up so much grass until she was filled.
He saw milk comin out but he didnt know how.
Ah, think Ill call it a cow.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal that liked to snort,
Horns on his head and they werent too short.
It looked like there wasnt nothin that he couldnt pull.
Ah, think Ill call it a bull.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal leavin a muddy trail,
Real dirty face and a curly tail.
He wasnt too small and he wasnt too big.
Ah, think Ill call it a pig.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
Next animal that he did meet
Had wool on his back and hooves on his feet,
Eating grass on a mountainside so steep.
Ah, think Ill call it a sheep.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, in the beginning.
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago.
He saw an animal as smooth as glass
Slithering his way through the grass.
Saw him disappear by a tree near a lake . . .
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Was A Movie
Last night I heard my own heart beating
Sounded like footsteps on my stairs
Six months gone and I'm still reaching
Even though I know you're not there
I was playing back a thousand memories,
baby
Thinking 'bout everything we've been
through
Maybe I've been going back too much
lately
When time stood still and I had you
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You would, you would if this was a movie
Stand in the rain outside 'til I came out
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You could, you could if you just said you're
sorry
I know that we could work it out somehow
But if this was a movie you'd be here by
now
I know people change and these things
happen
But I remember how it was back then
Wrapped up in your arms and our friends
were laughing
'Cause nothing like this ever happened to
them,
Now I'm pacing down the hall, chasing
down your street
Flashback to the night when you said to me,
'Nothing's gonna change, not for me and
you
Not before I knew how much I had to lose'
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You would, you would if this was a movie
Stand in the rain outside 'til I came out
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You could, you could if you just said you're
sorry
I know that we could work it out somehow
But if this was a movie you'd be here by
now
If you're out there
If you're somewhere
If you're moving on
I've been waiting for you
Wary since you've been gone
I just want it back the way it was before
And I just wanna see you back at my front
door
And I say
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You would before you said it's not that
easy
Before the fight, before I locked you out
But I take it all back now
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You would, you would if this was a movie
Stand in the rain outside 'til I came out
Come back, come back, come back to me
like
You could, you could if you just said you're
sorry
I know that we could work it out somehow
But if this was a movie you'd be here by
now
You'd be here by now
It's not the kind of ending you wanna see
now
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carry Me (a River)
carry me (a river)
carry me a river
take i there, by the river
let the cool breeze wash away the pain
from within me not in vain
carry me a river
where the sweet melodies of the birds reign
the birds in a singing mood so plain
wipe off my mind from the railing train
and carry me over yonder to clear my brain
as you carry me a river
carry me a river
by the river side
the pebbles and the bubbles
clear as water by the stream
as you carry me a river
told me the best poor surrogate of wisdom is pride
but intelligence and self trust will avoid troubles
not even in your dream
carry me a river
in touch with i roots
in my gideon boots
and some khaki suites
carry me a river
to dream a better me
and look back to see
the horizon by sundown
lost but not a clown
with my thinking crown
i stood up to go back-a town
next time
carry me a river on time
though you carry me there for some time
but next time
carry me a river on time
® ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©25.08.2011
2133h rs
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Look at the Time! (A Drinking Song)
Look at the time! It's half-past six!
Time for me to be getting my kicks!
I'll have some whisky,
It'll make me frisky,
And then I'll get up to my usual tricks!
Look at the time! It's half-past seven!
And I feel that I should be going to heaven!
I'll have some rum
'Cos I'm not dumb,
And then I'll be drunk by ten to eleven!
Look at the time! It's half-past eight!
I didn't know it was getting so late!
I'll have some brandy
Instead of shandy,
And then I'll be able to face my fate!
Look at the time! It's half-past nine!
(And I know that this doesn't really rhyme!)
I'll have some gin,
It's a bit of a sin,
It's time for a party and I'm feeling fine!
Look at the time! It's half-past ten!
Time to go back to bed again!
I really think
I've had enough to drink,
But I'll be back on the bottle tomorrow again!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Boy at the Window
War raged on as if that was how it was meant to be.
There were no sides. You killed your allies,
or you were killed by them. Fear made us
choose the former. Tears rolled down my sweaty cheeks.
Blood stained my mud-splattered skin and clothes
and fear.
The streets smelled of Hatred. Why so much Violence?
I desperately wanted to stop and mourn
for fallen friends, but there was no time for weakness.
I had to keep moving so no one could learn my strategy,
armed only with shields for eyes and daggers for teeth
and fear.
The streets smelled of Hatred. Why so much Violence?
I marched silently. My shoes made no sound against
the pavement and my footsteps were invisible.
I thought this would protect me: not my first mistake.
As far as I would see were nothing but the aftermath
of massacres and the afterthoughts of murder
and fear.
The streets smelled of Hatred. Why so much Violence?
I looked up to see a small, pale face hiding
behind a window. His arms were at his sides.
His eyes were expressionless bubbles.
I stood and stared at his innocent features,
and the child-who was blind to the bloodshed
that lay before him-held up his hand in a wave.
My face broke into a smile as I waved back.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hungry Like The Wolf
(ha ha!)
Dark in the city, night is a wire
Steam in the subway, earth is a fire
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
Woman you want me, give me a sign
And catch my breathing even closer behind
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
In touch with the ground
Im on the hunt Im after you
Smell like I sound, Im lost in a crowd
And Im hungry like the wolf
Straddle the line, in discord and rhyme
Im on the hunt Im after you
Mouth is alive with juices like wine
And Im hungry like the wolf
Stalked in the forest, too close to hide
Ill be upon you by the moonlight side
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
High blood drumming ony our skin its so tight
You feel my heart, Im just a moment behind
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
In touch with the ground
Im on the hunt Im after you
Scent and a sound, Im lost and Im found
And Im hungry like the wolf
Strut on a line, its discord and rhyme
I howl and I whine Im after you
Mouth is alive all running inside
And Im hungry like the wolf
-
(hungry like the wolf
Hungry like the wolf
Hungry like the wolf)
Burning the ground I break from the crowd
Im on the hunt Im after you
I smell like I sound, Im lost and Im found
And Im hungry like the wolf
Strut on a line, its discord and rhyme
Im on the hunt Im after you
Mouth is alive with juices like wine
And Im hungry like the wolf
Burning the ground I break from the crowd
Im on the hunt Im after you
Scent and a sound, Im lost and Im found
And Im hungry like the wolf
Strut on a line, its discord and rhyme
I howl and I whine Im after you
Mouth is alive all running inside
And Im hungry like the wolf...
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sargasso Sea
I stand on the deck of my ship
stranded in uncharted seas
wondering where the west wind
will be carrying me.
Will it be to some treasure island,
but from the dark clouds forming
will it be to some distant doom,
or will be to the Sargasso Sea.
The sea of weed unmapped
where many good ships and men
from have failed to homeward sail.
The wind is bellowing my sails
as my wooden ship begins to creak.
Oh how I long for sight of land
and a way back home.
Each wave smacks again the hull
with a dragon’s roar.
My ship reels roughly in the waters
as lightning crackles above my head.
The sky is now as black as pitch
and the wind whips spray into my face.
The dark clouds of torment drive my ship and me.
Will be to a watery grave or still waters calm.
Only the ticking hours of time will reveal when it is right.
Now I must ride with the storm
and wherever it is taking me.
I can only pray to my lord for help
to deliver me from that dreaded Sargasso Sea.
I fear no foreign lands only a sea unknown to me.
The storm of torment bellows,
restlessly through day and night,
but I am not a sailor to give up without a fight.
I curse the wind to leave my ship and me alone.
It ignores my curses and carries me further on.
Even the moon and stars are afraid to show their light,
but I stand firm upon my deck
to see the sunlight in the morn.
I curse some more
as the west wind hammers at an open cabin door.
Slowly the lightening fades
and the dark clouds dissipate overhead.
The west wind runs out of breath
as the sun glitters on the waters
that wander over watery graves.
The sea becomes placid
no more raging foam,
a gentle breeze arises
so I can chart my way home.
27 July 2009
Author’s Note.
The Sargasso Sea is one of the great myths and legends of the sea. Ancient mariners used to talk about it entangling around ships so that they could not move and remained stranded there. Countless stories and poems have been written about it, each embellishing it more. I, myself written two poems about it, the first being Sea Of Dead Ships.
The truth is that Sargasso is Gulf Weed, is a brown seaweed that forms thick floating masses in the tropical Atlantic waters.
DVH
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wolverine
'Yes, sir, it's quite a story, though you won't believe it's true,
But such things happened often when I lived beyond the Soo.'
And the trapper tilted back his chair and filled his pipe anew.
'I ain't thought of it neither fer this many 'n many a day,
Although it used to haunt me in the years that's slid away,
The years I spent a-trappin' for the good old Hudson's Bay.
'Wild? You bet, 'twas wild then, an' few an' far between
The squatters' shacks, for whites was scarce as furs when things is green,
An' only reds an' 'Hudson's' men was all the folk I seen.
'No. Them old Indyans ain't so bad, not if you treat 'em square.
Why, I lived in amongst 'em all the winters I was there,
An' I never lost a copper, an' I never lost a hair.
'But I'd have lost my life the time that you've heard tell about;
I don't think I'd be settin' here, but dead beyond a doubt,
If that there Indyan 'Wolverine' jest hadn't helped me out.
''Twas freshet time, 'way back, as long as sixty-six or eight,
An' I was comin' to the Post that year a kind of late,
For beaver had been plentiful, and trappin' had been great.
'One day I had been settin' traps along a bit of wood,
An' night was catchin' up to me jest faster 'an it should,
When all at once I heard a sound that curdled up my blood.
'It was the howl of famished wolves-I didn't stop to think
But jest lit out across for home as quick as you could wink,
But when I reached the river's edge I brought up at the brink.
'That mornin' I had crossed the stream straight on a sheet of ice
An' now, God help me! There it was, churned up an' cracked to dice,
The flood went boiling past-I stood like one shut in a vice.
'No way ahead, no path aback, trapped like a rat ashore,
With naught but death to follow, and with naught but death afore;
The howl of hungry wolves aback-ahead, the torrent's roar.
'An' then-a voice, an Indyan voice, that called out clear and clean,
'Take Indyan's horse, I run like deer, wolf can't catch Wolverine.'
I says, 'Thank Heaven.' There stood the chief I'd nicknamed Wolverine.
'I leapt on that there horse, an' then jest like a coward fled,
An' left that Indyan standin' there alone, as good as dead,
With the wolves a-howlin' at his back, the swollen stream ahead.
'I don't know how them Indyans dodge from death the way they do,
You won't believe it, sir, but what I'm tellin' you is true,
But that there chap was 'round next day as sound as me or you.
'He came to get his horse, but not a cent he'd take from me.
Yes, sir, you're right, the Indyans now ain't like they used to be;
We've got 'em sharpened up a bit an'
now
they'll take a fee.
'No, sir, you're wrong, they ain't no 'dogs.' I'm not through tellin' yet;
You'll take that name right back again, or else jest out you get!
You'll take that name right back when you hear all this yarn, I bet.
'It happened that same autumn, when some Whites was comin' in,
I heard the old Red River carts a-kickin' up a din,
So I went over to their camp to see an English skin.
'They said, 'They'd had an awful scare from Injuns,' an' they swore
That savages had come around the very night before
A-brandishing their tomahawks an' painted up for war.
'But when their plucky Englishmen had put a bit of lead
Right through the heart of one of them, an' rolled him over, dead,
The other cowards said that they had come on peace instead.
''That they (the Whites) had lost some stores, from off their little pack,
An' that the Red they peppered dead had followed up their track,
Because he'd found the packages an' came
to give them back
.'
''Oh!' they said, 'they were quite sorry, but it wasn't like as if
They had killed a decent Whiteman by mistake or in a tiff,
It was only some old Injun dog that lay there stark an' stiff.'
'I said, 'You are the meanest dogs that ever yet I seen,'
Then I rolled the body over as it lay out on the green;
I peered into the face-My God! 'twas poor old Wolverine.'
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Stand Alone
Now I've told you this once before
You can't control me
If you try to take me down you're gonna break
Now I feel your every nothing that you're doing for me
I'm picking you outa me
you run away
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
You're always hiding behind your so called goddess
So what you don't think that we can see your face
Resurrected back before the final fallen
now they've arrest utill I can make my own way
I'm not afraid of fading
I stand alone
Feeling your sting down inside of me
I'm not dying for it
I stand alone
Everything that I believe is fading
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
And now its my time (now its my time)
It's my time to dream (my time to dream)
Dream of the sky (dream of the sky)
Make me believe that this place is invaded
By the poison in me
Help me decide if my fire will burn out
Before you can breathe
Breathe into me
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
Feeling your sting down inside of me
I'm not dying for it
I stand alone
Everything that I believe is fading
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
Inside
I stand alone
Inside
song performed by by Godsmack from Awake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Concrete Forest
Gang banging
Street banging
Concrete Forest—
People dying
Children crying
Bullets flying
No remorse for the fallen—
Crack smoking
Prostitute selling
Cops stinging
Benefactors of trouble times—
Blood
Guts—inside body parts
Cultivate the Concrete Forest—
I see a mother kneeling
A priest praying
A child victimize—a father convicted
All within the Concrete Forest—
Sirens blowing
Lights flashing
Someone else dying
In the Concrete Forest—
Mercy on us
Compassion for us
Deliver us
From the Concrete Forest—
Restore our hope
Destroy the trepidation
Breathe life back into Concrete Forest—
It is time to go
My time is gone
My nightmares—relinquished
Within the Concrete Forest—
No more worrisome days
No more stressful nights
Freedom has come to me
In the Concrete Forest—
My freedom is now
Your comes later
But, not in this Concrete Forest—
Written by
Gregory E Upshaw
poem by Gregory Upshaw
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I Think I Understand
Daylight falls upon the path, the forest falls behind
Today I am not prey to dark uncertainty
The shadow trembles in its wrath, Ive robbed its blackness blind
And tasted sunlight as my fear came clear to me
I think I understand
Fear is like a wilderland
Stepping stones or sinking sand
Now the way leads to the hills, above the steeples chime
Below me sleepy rooftops round the harbor
Its there Ill take my thirsty fill of friendship over wine
Forgetting fear but never disregarding her
Oh, I think I understand
Fear is like a wilderland
Stepping stones and sinking sand
Sometimes voices in the night will call me back again
Back along the pathway of a troubled mind
When forests rise to block the light that keeps a traveler sane
Ill challenge them with flashes from a brighter time
Oh, I think I understand
Fear is like a wilderland
Stepping stones or sinking sand
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Little Town
Words & music by paul simon
In my little town
I grew up believ--ing
God keeps his eye on us all
And he used to lean upon me
As I pledged allegiance to the wall
Lord I recall
My little town
Coming home after school
Flying my bike past the gates
Of the factories
My mom doing the laundry
Hanging our shirts
In the dirty breeze
And after it rains
Theres a rainbow
And all of the colors are black
Its not that the colors arent there
Its just imagin-ation they lack
Everythings the same
Back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
In my little town
I never meant nothin
I was just my fathers son
Saving my money
Dreaming of glory
Twitching like a finger
On the trigger of a gun
Leaving nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
Repeat and fade:
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead End
Well easily with me I show affection,
But it's a creepin up, a creepin up on me in another direction
I love, I write, and I die
And I try to ask no questions,
But the weary one is still me,
Do you think its obsession?
The smoke will find you a choker that matches your coat, not fit to be tied
The mirror it makes it all clearer as you stand alone and cant see your behind
Yea
They tried to tell me I could say that nobody could believe this
Well they tried to tell me I could say nobody could achieve this
The way you stayed of, locked away of
Keeping the flame for yourself,
The way you stayed of, pushin the blame of, reaping the fame for yourself
Oh well, it's a, it's a, dead end
It's a dead end
Oh, it's a dead end lonely day,
Say it's a dead end
It's a, it's a, it's a, it's a, it's a dead end day
It's a dead end oh day
And it's a long way, a long way down,
Hey well it's a long way, a long way down
Change is coming a baby,
Don't be startled lady
Every once in a while they do it again
You gonna shake it, shake it,
You know you wanna take it
Back to where you once belonged,
Back beneath the sheets and between the pillow cases
And the snake he races out and he, he tangles into your hair
Funny the fruits you choose
Oh the time you take, the words you loose
And it all goes back to rotation over the back of your hand
Oh the back of your hand, oh the back of your hand
Oh the map is your hand,
it's the back of your hand, the back of your hand
say the back of your hand, oh the map is your hand, it's the back of your hand
stop whining all the time,
don't you find a little secret to yourself always saved your life,
stop listening to the words that you've heard
no one else but yourself will agree with you more
that it's a long, long way
it's a long, long way
and it's a long, long way, a long way down
hey, and it's a long way down,
and it's a lo- oh- oh- ng way down
hey, hey, hey, and it's a long, long, long, long way down,
say say, SCATS
and it's a lo- oh- oh- ng way down, hey and it's a long way dooooown
it's a dead end
it's a dead end oh
it's a dead end lonely day
it's a, it's a dead end
It's a, it's a, it's a, it's a, it's a dead end day
It's a dead end oh day
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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