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Author Topic: O/T Favourite Lyrics  (Read 51045 times)
Geo the Sarge
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« Reply #240 on: June 26, 2007, 01:39:26 PM »

Cracking words Booder, where's it from?

Geo
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Colchester Kev
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« Reply #241 on: June 26, 2007, 01:42:10 PM »

going through a bit of a retro music phase at the moment, have dug out a few old Floyd and Dire Straits albums.


All the late night bargains have been struck
Between the satin beaus and their belles
And prehistoric garbage trucks
Got the city to themselves
Echoes roars dinosaurs
They're all doing the monster mash
And most of the taxis, most of the whores
Are only taking calls for cash

I don't know how it happened
It all took place so quick
But all I can do is hand it to you
And your latest trick

My door was standing open
Security was laid back and lax
But it was only my heart got broken
You must have had a pass key made out of wax
You played robbery with insolence
And I played the blues in twelve bars down Lover's Lane
And you never did have the intelligence to use
The twelve keys hanging off my chain

I don't know how it happened
It all took place so quick
But all I can do is hand it to you
And your latest trick

Now it's past last call for alcohol
Past recall has been here and gone
The landlord he finally paid us all
The satin jazzmen have put away their horns
And we're standing outside of this wonderland
Looking so bereaved and so bereft
Like a Bowery bum when he finally understands
The bottle's empty and there's nothing left

I don't know how it happened
It was faster than the eye could flick
But all I can do is hand it to you
And your latest trick
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Sleep don't visit, so I choke on sun
And the days blur into one
And the backs of my eyes hum with things I've never done

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Geo the Sarge
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« Reply #242 on: June 26, 2007, 01:44:19 PM »

Class lyrics from Squeeze:

She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle
And shuffles about in her candle lit hovel,
Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens
She smells like the cat and the neighbours she sickens,
The black and white t.v. has long seen a picture
The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture,
The postman delivers the final reminders
She sells off her silver and poodles in china.
Drinks to remember, I me and myself
And winds up the clock
And knocks dust from the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.

During the war time an american pilot
Made every air raid a time of excitement,
She moved to his prairie and married the texan
She learnt from a distance how love was a lesson,
He became drinker and she became mother
She knew that one day shed be one or the other,
He ate himself older, drunk himself dizzy
Proud of her features, she kept herself pretty.

He like a cowboy died drunk in his slumber
Out on the porch in the middle of summer,
She crossed the ocean back home to her family
But they had retired to roads that were sandy,
She moved home alone without friends or relations
Lived in a world full of age reservation,
On moth eaten armchairs shed say that shed sod all
The friends who had left her to drink from the bottle.
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booder
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« Reply #243 on: June 26, 2007, 01:49:54 PM »

Cracking words Booder, where's it from?

Geo

The Few  by Billy Bragg
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Quote from: action man
im not speculating, either, but id have been pretty peeved if i missed the thread and i ended up getting clipped, kindly accepting a lift home.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
Martin Luther King Jr
Geo the Sarge
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« Reply #244 on: June 26, 2007, 02:04:36 PM »

Thank you kind sir.

Geo
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action man
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« Reply #245 on: June 26, 2007, 03:24:32 PM »

you a squeeze man geo?  my dad got me into squeeze in the early 90's via the cassette player in the car, my personal faves are annie get your gun and is that love
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Geo the Sarge
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« Reply #246 on: June 26, 2007, 03:33:52 PM »

Used to love em, my mate and I use to recite Cool for Cats in the bar so often that it got annoying and we were threatened with being barred.


The indians send signals
From the rocks above the pass
The cowboys take positions
In the bushes and the grass
The squaw is with the corporal
She is tied against the tree
She doesnt mind the language
Its the beating she dont need
She lets loose all the horses
When the corporal is asleep
And he wakes to find the fires dead
And arrows in his hats
And davy crockett rides around
And says its cool for cats
The sweeneys doing ninety
cos theyve got the word to go
They get a gang of villains
In a shed up at heathrow
Theyre counting out the fivers
When the handcuffs lock again
In and out of wandsworth
With the numbers on their names
Its funny how their missus
Always look the bleeding same
And meanwhile at the station
Theres a couple of likely lads
Who swear like hows your father
And theyre very cool for cats
Theyre cool for cats

To change the mood a little
Ive been posing down the pub
On seeing my reflection
Im looking slightly rough
I fancy this, I fancy that
I wanna be so flash
I give a little muscle
And I spend a little cash
But all I get is bitter and a nasty little rash
And by the time Im sober
Ive forgotten what Ive had
And evrybody tells me that its cool to be a cat
Cool for cats

Shake up at the disco
And I think Ive got a pull
I ask her lots of questions
And she hangs on to the wall
I kiss her for the first time
And then I take her home
Im invited in for coffee
And I give the dog a bone
She likes to go to discos
But shes never on her own
I said Ill see you later
And I give her some old chat
But its not like that on the tv
When its cool for cats
Its cool for cats

Was lucky enough to meet Jools when he opened his Jam house here in Edinburgh, top bloke.

Geo
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Robert HM
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« Reply #247 on: June 26, 2007, 08:56:43 PM »

As mentioned in 1st post, 2 hair on the back of neck jobs for me:

Covered by Elvis Costello, and unusually for I cover, better than the original, imho:

She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
Maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell....

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She maybe the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows in the past
That I remember 'till the day I die

She maybe the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I care for through the rough and ready years

Me, I'll take the laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is
She....She
Oh, she....


Bryan Adams next, the spanish guitar makes this a special:

To really love a woman
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside
Hear every thought - see every dream
N' give her wings - when she wants to fly
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms
Ya know ya really love a woman

When you love a woman you tell her
that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last forever
So tell me have you ever really
- really really ever loved a woman?

To really love a woman
Let her hold you -
til ya know how she needs to be touched
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her
Til you can feel her in your blood
N' when you can see your unborn children in her eyes
Ya know ya really love a woman

When you love a woman
you tell her that she's really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her
that you'll always be together
So tell me have you ever really -
really really ever loved a woman?

You got to give her some faith - hold her tight
A little tenderness - gotta treat her right
She will be there for you, takin' good care of you
Ya really gotta love your woman...


I was going to post "Thank you for the days" as sung by Kirsty McColl, enough to get to you at any funeral but I refreshed my memory and saw I posted it already, at least my taste doesn't change too much.
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action man
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« Reply #248 on: June 26, 2007, 10:07:15 PM »

2 cracking posts robert, both at the top end of my playlist.

What i was thinking of, maybe 40 blondes could post the lyrics to their favourite song and we could do a blonde cd, with the proceeds going to charity, say $10 per cd into someones stars account, then the person would use blank cd's to copy the cds and send them in the post.
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booder
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« Reply #249 on: June 28, 2007, 03:46:41 PM »

It was just like a dream, yeah, a surreal scene, like a blue orange
I thought my senses had gone, like i was writing a song about a foot-long
syringe
And she said, "Hello, dear, it's my party
So I hope you'll be smart", hee hee
And i said,"I don't know, but I think I'll go fix me a stiff drink"

Well, I sat there and stared, because at first I was scared of this female
Tarzan
And while she talked with the apes about champagne and grapes, i approached her
garden
And she said,"Now, now, don't try to leave me,
It's unfair to deceive me
I could kill if you try to escape me, come upstairs my friend"

Now I knew, I knew, I couldn't be that mean,
so I tried, yeah I really tried to leave her but she was a
big, big, big, big girl, big girl

Hurled out the door, it was becoming more of a test of honour
Would I go, would I stay, could I do it all day and be a certain gonnor
And she said,"Now you're so young and tender,
And don't be concerned with my gender"
It was hard but I managed to send her away up to those fluffy white clouds

It was hard on the brain but I would do it again for the satisfaction
She weighed 203 but that was OK by me, there was lots of action
And she said,"Shall we dance in the moonlight
It would be so nice on a June night"
But I said,"If it's OK by you, I'll just sit here a take me a rest"
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Quote from: action man
im not speculating, either, but id have been pretty peeved if i missed the thread and i ended up getting clipped, kindly accepting a lift home.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
Martin Luther King Jr
Robert HM
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« Reply #250 on: June 28, 2007, 03:49:14 PM »

2 cracking posts robert, both at the top end of my playlist.

What i was thinking of, maybe 40 blondes could post the lyrics to their favourite song and we could do a blonde cd, with the proceeds going to charity, say $10 per cd into someones stars account, then the person would use blank cd's to copy the cds and send them in the post.

$10 for the cd but how much for the copyright defence action fund? Nice idea though.
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booder
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« Reply #251 on: July 03, 2007, 05:16:30 PM »

a dedication.............

(What they do!)
(They smile in your face)
All the time they want to take your place
The back stabbers (back stabbers)
(They smile in your face)
All the time they want to take your place
The back stabbers (back stabbers)
All you fellows who have someone and you really care, yeah, yeah
Then it's all of you fellows who better beware, yeah yeah
Somebody's out to get your lady
A few of your buddies they sure look shady
Blades are long, clenched tight in their fist
Aimin' straight at your back
And I don't think they'll miss
(What they do!)
(They smile in your face)
All the time they want to take your place
The back stabbers (back stabbers)
I keep gettin' all these visits from my friends, yeah, what they doin to me
They come to my house again and again and again and again, yeah
So are they there to see my woman
I don't even be home but they just keep on comin'
What can I do to get on the right track
I wish they'd take some of these knives off my back
(They smile in your face)
All the time they want to take your place
The back stabbers (back stabbers)
Low down... dirty...
(What they do!)
(They smile in your face)
Smiling faces... smiling faces sometimes tell lies (Back stabbers)
(They smile in your face)
I don't need... low down, dirty bastards (Back stabbers)
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Quote from: action man
im not speculating, either, but id have been pretty peeved if i missed the thread and i ended up getting clipped, kindly accepting a lift home.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
Martin Luther King Jr
Delboy
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« Reply #252 on: July 03, 2007, 05:59:34 PM »

Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.

She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess,
But I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue.

I had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell.
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishin' boat
Right outside of Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.

She was workin' in a topless place
And I stopped in for a beer,
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear.
And later on as the crowd thinned out
I's just about to do the same,
She was standing there in back of my chair
Said to me, "Don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath,
She studied the lines on my face.
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe,
Tangled up in blue.

She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello," she said
"You look like the silent type."
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you,
Tangled up in blue.

I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.

So now I'm goin' back again,
I got to get to her somehow.
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.
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Delboy
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« Reply #253 on: July 03, 2007, 06:05:23 PM »

The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways
Like a vision she dances across the porch. As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside, darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me
You can hide `neath your covers and study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero, that's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now?
Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's busting open
This two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back, Heaven's waiting on down the tracks

Oh-oh come take my hand
We're riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh-oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road,
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road, sit tight take hold, Thunder Road

Well I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back if you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely and there's words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free, all the promises'll be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
you hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind, so Mary climb in
It's a town full of losers and I'm pulling out of here to win.
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Pelham Boy
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« Reply #254 on: July 03, 2007, 06:37:13 PM »

Every Tuesday Friday spied him,
Wriggling round on a triangular mound,
Let me teach you justice economics,
Shillings and pence,
You know it don't make no sense,

How can you sell me sky with no rain?
They're not of you however much you claim,
Please don't let the colour of my skin,
Flavour your culinary coq-au vin.

Vigour, vim and a perfect trim,
It made him one sunny gym,
I'd really like to be more than an arm's throw,
Away from Mr. Robinson Crusoe.

Friday's daily dose of opiates,
On my strict moral conscience it grates,
So way of punishment I sent him down,
To a bamboo prison in a bamboo town,
Friday's puzzled looking old,
He really can't tell what he's done wrong,
Look Mr. Crusoe,
Why punish yourself for an indulgence in bliss?
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"The boy Gedge has written some of the best love songs of the Rock 'n' Roll Era. You may dispute this, but I'm right and you're wrong!" John Peel.
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