post some song lyrics.

post some song lyrics that describe/go with your mood, or song lyrics that are just stuck in your head. they can be happy, sad, funny, serious, or whatever you want.

"i don't love you, like i loved you, yesterday.."

This girl still out rocks singers half her age. Saw her open a Dylan concert once and she stole the show.

I was lost in a valley of pleasure.
I was lost in the infinite sea.
I was lost, and measure for measure,
love spewed from the heart of me.
I was lost, and the cost,
and the cost didn't matter to me.
I was lost, and the cost
was to be outside society.

Love ya Patti.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjmsyhgotWY&am p;feature=related

That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me
Everything you had is gone, as you can see
That's what you get for lovin' me.

I ain't the kind to hang around
With any new love that I've found
Movin' is my stock in trade
I'm movin on
I won't think of you when I'm gone.

So don't you shed a tear for me
I ain't the love you thought I'd be
I've got a hundred more like you
so don't be blue
I'll have a thousand 'fore I'm through.

Now there you go you're crying again
Now there you go you're crying again
But then someday when your poor heart
is on the mend
I just might pass this way again

That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me
Everything you had is gone, as you can see
That's what you get for lovin' me.

Made a mistake,I made a mistake

I wear the scars to show my shame

What should I do, what should I do

When I'm the one who can't get through?

What should I do, what should I do

When I'm the one, hey, I'm the one to blame?

I Wish I Was Someone Better, Blood Red Shoes

With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself

Where is my mind ?

Way out in the water
See it swimmin?

I was swimmin' in the Caribbean

Animals were hiding behind the rocks
Except the little fish
But they told me, he swears
Tryin' to talk to me, coy koi.

Where is my mind ?

Last week I had the strangest dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed
Where there was never any mystery of who shot John F. Kennedy
It was just a man with something to prove
Slightly bored and severely confused
He steadied his rifle with his target in the center
And became famous on that day in November

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping
Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in
Don't wake me I plan on sleeping
Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Again last night I had that strange dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed
No concerns about the world getting warmer
The people thought they were just being rewarded
For treating others as they'd like to be treated
For obeying 'stop' signs and curing diseases
For mailing letters with the address of the sender
Now we can swim any day in November

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping
(now we can swim any day in November)
Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in
Don't wake me I plan on sleeping
Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Lots of folks back East, they say, is leavin' home every day,
Beatin' the hot old dusty way to the California line.
'Cross the desert sands they roll, gettin' out of that old dust bowl,
They think they're goin' to a sugar bowl, but here's what they find
Now, the police at the port of entry say,
"You're number fourteen thousand for today."

Oh, if you ain't got the do re mi, folks, you ain't got the do re mi,
Why, you better go back to beautiful Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Georgia, Tennessee.
California is a garden of Eden, a paradise to live in or see;
But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot
If you ain't got the do re mi.

You want to buy you a home or a farm, that can't deal nobody harm,
Or take your vacation by the mountains or sea.
Don't swap your old cow for a car, you better stay right where you are,
Better take this little tip from me.
'Cause I look through the want ads every day
But the headlines on the papers always say:

If you ain't got the do re mi, boys, you ain't got the do re mi,
Why, you better go back to beautiful Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Georgia, Tennessee.
California is a garden of Eden, a paradise to live in or see;
But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot
If you ain't got the do re mi.

And although he is nothing in the scheme of my years
it just serves to bludgeon my futile tears
And I'm not used to this, no, no
I observe, I don't chase
But now I sit with consequences thrust in my face
And the melodramas of my day deliver blows
that surpass your rejection it just goes to show
a simple attraction that reflects right back to me
so I'm not as into you as I appear to be

And although my pride is not easily disturbed
you sent me flying when you kicked me to the curb
With your battered jeans and your Beasties tee
Now I can't work like this with you next to me

His message was brutal but the delivery was kind
maybe if I get this down I'll get it off my mind
It serves to condition me and smoothen my kinks
despite my frustration for the way that he thinks
and I knew the truth, when it came, would be to that effect
At least you're attracted to me which I did not expect
didn't think you get my number down as such
but I never hated myself for my age so much

-"You Sent Me Flying" by Amy Winehouse

You asked for it.  this is an oldie but a goodie I recently rediscovered.

THICK AS A BRICK

Part 1
 
Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
 
My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction
the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
 
And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today -- and you
shake your head and
say it's a shame.
 
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
 
See there!  A son is born -- and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
We'll
make a man of him
put him to trade
teach him
to play Monopoly and
to sing in the rain.
 
The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water --
as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other --
as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.
The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling --
but the master of the house is far away.
The horses stamping -- their warm breath clouding
in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.
 
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.
 
The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:
the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.
The young men of the household have
all gone into service and
are not to be expected for a year.
The innocent young master -- thoughts moving ever faster --
has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.
 
And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.
 
What do you do when
the old man's gone -- do you want to be him?  And
your real self sings the song.
Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam --
and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.
 
LATER.
I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
So come on all you criminals!
I've got to put you straight just like I did with my old man --
twenty years too late.
Your bread and water's going cold.
Your hair is too short and neat.
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.
 
You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone -- you meet the stares.
You're unaware that your doings aren't done.
And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
your rings upon your fingers and
your downy little sidies and
your silver-buckle shoes.
Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol
who lets you bend the rules.
 
So!
Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super crooks
and show us all the way.
Well!  Make your will and testament. Won't you?
Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
 
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are --
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.
 
So!  Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall --
writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual.
 
LATER.
See there!  A man born -- and we pronounce him fit for peace.
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease.
We'll
take the child from him
put it to the test
teach it
to be a wise man
how to fool the rest.
 
QUOTE
We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
cats are on the upgrade
upgrade?  Hipgrave.  Oh, Mac.
 
LATER
In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
I take my place with the lord of the hills.
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows)
sporting canvas frills.
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
Saying -- how's your granny and
good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.

The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled
in the seagull's call.
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
and signal for the crack of dawn.
Light the sun.
 
Do you believe in the day?  Do you?
Believe in the day!  The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night -- and fully pregnant with the day,
wise men endorse the poet's sight.
Do you believe in the day?  Do you?  Believe in the day!
 
Let me tell you the tales of your life of
your love and the cut of the knife
the tireless oppression
the wisdom instilled
the desire to kill or be killed.
Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by.
The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red -- while the fool
toasts his god in the sky.

So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed
with
the blood of the fools and
the thoughts of the wise and
from the pan under your bed.
Let me make you a present of song as
the wise man breaks wind and is gone while
the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and
the nursery rhyme winds along.

So!  Come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
See!  The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
and the hour of judgement draweth near.
Would you be
the fool stood in his suit of armour or
the wiser man who rushes clear.
So!  Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super-crooks and
show us all the way.
Well!  Make your will and testament.
Won't you?  Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
So!  Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall -- writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.
 
OF COURSE
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
 
Part 2

LATER.
See there! A man born and we pronounce him fit for peace.
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease.
We'll take the child from him
put it to the test
teach it to be a wise man
how to fool the rest.

QUOTE
We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
cats are on the upgrade
upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.

LATER
In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
I take my place with the lord of the hills.
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured
(in neat little rows) sporting canvas frills.
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
Saying: "How's your granny?" and good old Ernie:
he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.
The legends (worded in
the ancient tribal hymn)
lie cradled in the seagull's call.
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.

The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
and signal for the crack of dawn.
Light the sun. Light the sun.
Do you believe in the day?
Do you? Believe in the day!
The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night
and fully pregnant with the day,
wise men endorse the poet's sight.
Do you believe in the day?
Do you? Believe in the day!

Let me tell you the tales of your life
of your love and the cut of the knife
the tireless oppression, the wisdom instilled
the desire to kill or be killed.
Let me sing of the losers who lie
in the street as the last bus goes by.
The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red
while the fool toasts his god in the sky.

So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
Let me help you pick up your dead
as the sins of the father are fed
with the blood of the fools
and the thoughts of the wise and
from the pan under your bed.
Let me make you a present of song
as the wise man breaks wind and is gone
while the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
and the nursery rhyme winds along.

So! Come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
and the hour of judgement draweth near.
Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armour
or the wiser man who rushes clear.

So! Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super-crooks
and show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament.
Won't you? Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.

So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual

OF COURSE
So you ride yourselves over the fields
and you make all your animal deals
and your wise men don't know how it feels
to be thick as a brick.

This John Denver song is dedicated to those of you who have loved one about to go to or in the Middle East.

All my bags are packed,
I'm ready to go,
I'm standing here,
Outside your door,
I hate to wake you up to say Good Bye.
But the dawn is breakin', It's early morn`,
The taxi's waiting, blowin' his horn.
Already I'm so lonesome I could die.

So kiss me and smile for me,
Tell me that you wait for me,
Hold me, like you never let me go.
Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again,
Oh Babe I hate to go.

So many times, I let you down,
So many times, I played around,
but I tell you now, they don't mean a thing.
Every place I go, I'll think of you,
Every song I sing, I sing for you.
When I come back, I'll bring your wedding ring.

So kiss me and smile for me,
Tell me that you wait for me,
Hold me, like you never let me go.
Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again,
Oh Babe I hate to go.

Now the time has come to leave you,
One more time, let me kiss you,
Close your eyes and I'll be on my way.
Think about the days to come,
When I won't have you leave alone,
About the day, when I won't have to say,

I'm leaving on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again,
Oh Babe I hate to go.

Figured I'd start this baby back up again! :)

There's a house across the river, but alas I cannot swim
And a garden of such beauty that the flowers seem to grin
There's a house across the river, but alas I cannot swim
I'll live my life regretting that I never jumped in

sometimes "goodbye" is a second chance

Would you recognize me?
Look my way, or walk on by?
The rain keeps falling,
the rain keeps falling down, down, down.

Ten hundred books could I write you about her

Because I felt if I could know her

I would know all women

And they’ve not been any too well known

for brains and planning and organized thinking

But I’m sure the women are equal

And they may be ahead of the men 

Woody Guthrie, 1942

If you wanna ride
Don´t ride the white horse
If you wanna ride
Don´t ride the white horse
White horse
Don´t ride the white horse
White horse
Don´t ride the white horse.

If you wanna be rich
You got to be a bitch
You got to be a bitch
I said rich, rich you bitch

If you wanna ride
Ride the white pony
Ride, ride the white pony
White pony, white pony

On your mark get set go! Lemme go, lemme shoop!

To the next man in the 3-piece suit.

I spend all my dough... ray me cutie!

Shoop shoop-a-doobie, like Scoobie Doobie

I love you in your big jeans, you give me nice dreams... you make me wanna scream ooh ooh OH!

I like what ya do, when ya do, what ya do you make me wanna shoop...

What a dream I had
Pressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline
Of smoky burgundy
Softer than the rain

I wandered empty streets down
Past the shop displays
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alleyways
As I walked on

And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
Of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand

And when I awoke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh I love you, girl
Oh I love you

I'm not scared of lions, and tigers, and bears

But I'm scared of loving you

I'm not scared to perform at a sold out affair

But I'm scared of loving you

I am confident 
But I still have my moments 
Baby, that's just me 
I'm not a supermodel 
I still eat McDonald's 
Baby, that's just me 

Well, some may say I need to be afraid 
Of losing everything 
Because of where I 
Had my start and where I made my name 
Well, everything's the same 
In the la-la land machine 
Machine, machine 

Who said I can't wear my 
Converse with my dress 
Well, baby, that's just me [ah] 
Who says I can't be single 
And have to go out and mingle 
Baby, that's not me 

Well, some may say I need to be afraid 
Of losing everything 
'cause of where I 
Had my start and where I made my name 
Well, everything's the same 
In the la-la land... 

Tell me, do you feel the way I feel 
'Cause nothing else is real 
In the la-la land machine 

Well, some may say I need to be afraid 
Of losing everything 
Because of where I 
Had my start and where I made my name 
Well, everything's the same 
In the la-la land machine 

Well, I'm not gonna change 
In the la-la land machine 
Well, I will stay the same 
In the la-la land machine 

Machine 
Machine 
I won't change anything in my life 
I won't change anything in my life                                                          I'm staying myself tonight 
I'm staying myself tonight 
La, la, la, la, la

In a haze..a stormy haze..

I will be be 'round..I will be loving you..

always..always..

Here I am and I will take my time..

Here I am and I will wait in line..

always..always..

...

*Coldplay..Parachutes*

mspw, not sure I'd want Jethro Tull stuck in my head for too long.  Do you want me to call you an ambulance?