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Messages 1 - 42 of total 42 in this topic |
Norwegian
Trad climber
the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Original Post - Mar 9, 2013 - 05:01pm PT
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i was passing thru, not so innocently,
and i had a verve within
that found no outlet.
i wanted so desperately to bellerr,
something that may
please distant and local ears,
but i couldn't author.
there were these beautiful women
gawking at my absurd situation;
and there was i scraping together
an unprecended reality.
and i felt the need to
make pleasant noise,
but instead
i just mumbled and farted.
they, the hot chick,
and i the everpresent fool,
were / was not impressed.
so i come to you,
oh infinite wisdom that resides
on the waves of stuportypo,
please,
give me some sailor tunes,
just the words,
i'll work out the wrest.
they might come in handy,
when im leading a desperate pitch
and i need a distraction
away from the noise of
fear in my ears?
reilly?
what do echo when the rum hits your lips
and the sea-silence hits your ears?
give me something!
ore else i'll have to
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weezy
climber
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i sign a nice little dittie called OH SH#T OH SH#T F*#K TAKE TAKE TAKE F*#K I'M GANNA DIE
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skywalker
climber
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Weezy I got every note of that song memorized! LOL
S...
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Brandon-
climber
The Granite State.
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When I'm stressed on a lead, I almost always sing songs from Ween's Twelve Golden Country Greats to relieve the stress.
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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"Yaar, I shoulda stayed at the bar!"
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darkmagus
Mountain climber
San Diego, CA
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When I'm out there I hear a lot of JAZZ
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bixquite
Social climber
humboldt nation
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stagger lee... how the hell can i wrestle him when he's twice as big as me?
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Norwegian
Trad climber
the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Reply - Mar 9, 2013 - 06:51pm PT
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no come on.
really,
i need one of those tunes
that like totally drunk f*#king sailors
sang as they rowed merrily into the
storm of their demise.
i need jolly words,
leaned together.
that stand up
in the face of
desperation!
guido?
i can just google the shet,
but i respect more,
your imput.
pirates song!
el cappirate?
you got any?
mucci!
how do the italians sing in
the face of probable doom?
i need something
to sing
as my ship sinks.
too much to ask?
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The Call Of K2 Lou
climber
Squamish
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"This is really gonna affect my 8a.nu ranking."
Actually, what I usually hear during a desperate moment is the same useless, esoteric sh*t that's floating around in my mind at any other time.
("Pink and orange just don't complement each other.
Seems that the wrath of the gods got a punch on the nose and it's starting to flow, I think I might be...
Will Vettel win the championship this year?
Scotch.
0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144 233 377 610 987 1597 2584 4191 6765 10956 17721")
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this just in
climber
north fork
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I have had many a songs get me through climbs. It seems whatever I listened to last, from pantera to massive attack. Regardless I do keep a certain song throughout the climb.
And yes vettel will get four in a row.
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'Pass the Pitons' Pete
Big Wall climber
like Ontario, Canada, eh?
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Ya need to come up to New-fun-LAND, b'y, and sing the song from back in WWII:
Chorus:
Away away with the fife and drum
Here we come, full o' rum
We're lookin' fer women who peddle their bums
In the North Atlantic Squadron
Various verses:
Upon the good ship Venus
By god, you should have seen us
The maidenhead was a whore in bed
The shaft an upright penis
There once was a lady from Montreal
Who spread her legs from wall to wall
But all she got was sweet f*#k all
From the North Atlantic Squadron
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tiki-jer
Trad climber
fresno/clovis
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Ha! For some reason when I'm on a route that is run-out or not obvious, Axl Rose is screaming in my ear "Where do we go......where do we go now.......where do we goooo..where do we go now....."
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Ward Trotter
Trad climber
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Mar 10, 2013 - 12:53am PT
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Weigh heigh and up she rises (/Hoo-ray and up she rises)
Weigh heigh and up she rises (/Patent blocks of different sizes)[2]
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Early in the morning
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?
Put/chuck him in the long boat till he's sober.[7]
Put him in the long-boat and make him bale her.[8]
What shall we do with a drunken soldier?[2]
Put/lock him in the guard room 'til he gets sober.[7][2]
Put him in the scuppers with a hose-pipe on him.(x3)[12]
Pull out the plug and wet him all over[12]
Tie him to the taffrail when she's yardarm under[12]
Heave him by the leg in a runnin' bowline.[12]
Scrape the hair off his chest with a hoop-iron razor.[2]
Give 'im a dose of salt and water.[2]
Stick on his back a mustard plaster.[2]
Keep him there and make 'im bale 'er.[2]
Give 'im a taste of the bosun's rope-end.[2]
What'll we do with a Limejuice skipper?[2]
Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper.[2]
What shall we do with the Queen o' Sheba?[2]
What shall we do with the Virgin Mary?[2]
Shave his chin with a rusty razor.[20]
Shave his belly with a rusty razor.[21]
Give 'im a hair of the dog that bit him.[22]
Put him in the bilge and make him drink it.[23]
Put him in bed with the captain's daughter.[24]
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LilaBiene
Trad climber
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Mar 10, 2013 - 01:13am PT
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So you know I haven't even dreamed of leading yet, but this song rattled along on a loop as I was following Ed and Anders on the approach to the Footstool last Sept. (Damn, it was HOT):
It ain't gonna rain no more, no more,
It ain't gonna rain no more,
How the heck can I wash my neck
If it ain't gonna rain no more?
And on the 10-mile-all-downhill hike that same insanely hot week and during the first and last (all hills) half-marathon I'll ever run:
The Clash - Guns of Brixton
When they kick out your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun
When the law break in
How you gonna go?
Shot down on the pavement
Or waiting in death row
You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, Guns of Brixton
The money feels good
And your life you like it well
But surely your time will come
As in heaven, as in hell
You see, he feels like Ivan
BORN under the Brixton sun
His game is called survivin'
At the end of the harder they come
You know it means no mercy
They caught him with a gun
No need for the Black Mariah
Goodbye to the Brixton sun
You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh-the guns of Brixton
...and so on.
Edit:
Capt, that's one of my favorite songs. V cool.
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Capt.
climber
some eastside hovel
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Mar 10, 2013 - 01:22am PT
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Just one line from Metallica's Fade to Black--"I was me,but now he is gone".
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weezy
climber
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Mar 10, 2013 - 01:51am PT
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When I'm stressed on a lead, I almost always sing songs from Ween's Twelve Golden Country Greats to relieve the stress.
mr. richard smoker...you're a poopy poker...chardonay and cocaine in the spa....
i've had that f*#kin song stuck in my head for weeks now. "help me scrape the mucous off my brain" is another one on that album that's great for stress relief.
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deuce4
climber
Hobart, Australia
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Mar 10, 2013 - 04:00am PT
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Walt used to sing Zappa's Dynamo Hum in its entirety to time a rest say, off a good handjam, on difficult pitches...
Sometimes he'd sing it pretty fast and quite animated as well.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Mar 10, 2013 - 06:56am PT
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[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmA0iXDB1xI]
u can tell urself id's music but it's wars in music and it's a devil's club that u need, my friend, to beat off destrungshinghammerung.
that that led u hear u shoed obey and keep ur own shoes tie-dyed
don't u read this it's fast and dirty and ditty and bulbous like all ur stuff u writhe
wither u know me or nowt ur a lout to scrape off my cronies
read/sing/jack away
Cleft for my knob is the slitty. . .
workin’ in my staff with a slight delay.
But soon it has crossed: inward it is leapin’;
buryin’ belaying pin—drive it in.
Big wield—seed spawn germ in,
prowed Mary keeps on squirmin’.
Polin’, polin’, polin’ till she quivers.
Gleaned was my substrate of spending
pumped into domain round with sluice bore seamed,
lovely, like a maw in which I put my fishy—
my big fish sticks inside of this quimmer-moat, teemed.
Big wield seeps on her in,
prowed Mary keeps on squirmin’.
Polin’, polin’, polin’ till she quivers.
Festooned with down is her quiver.
Yessir, poon is fine when pee pole there lives.
The opening furry, unless wax from honey
bees is put on then ripped off till shagginess gives.
Big squeal ’cause it’s burnin’;
loud Mary gets de-furrin’.
Shows skin, shows skin, shows skin now, her quiver. . . .
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can't say
Social climber
Pasadena CA
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Mar 10, 2013 - 08:23am PT
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and then there's the old C4 rescue site theme song SWilliam came up with
9 mil, 9 mil
stretching down to 4
if your Jumars do not lock
you'll hit the Valley floor
Bag em, tag em
6 bucks an hour...
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Alti2de
Sport climber
Columbus, Ohio
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Mar 10, 2013 - 08:59am PT
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The captain touched his swagger stick
Up to his golden eye
And boogied through the vestibule
While bidding us goodbye
The enemy surrounds us
And our spirits almost gone
The Devil take the cavalry
That sold us for a song
There's Chi-Chi's on the starboard, lads
And Chi-Chi's in the stern
And hashish in the hookah pipes
And bonny grass to burn
Our mission is a secret
But we're fool enough to try
We'll sail the bloody ocean, boys
Or drink the bastard dry
"If I'd've been a carpenter," the swarthy
sergeant said
"I'd never seen this ugly thing
That hangs above my head
The hell with all your heros
And the wounds they hope to show
I'm just a simple soldier, son
With one more year to go"
The Albatross was tiring
And the cook was in a stew
The filthy little cabin boy
Was whizzing in my shoe
The Captain's wife was aging
And the first mate heard her scream
When Tommy slipped tabasco in the
Captain's vaseline
"Our time will soon be gone," he said
"It's all we've left to lose
We've shot our ammunition
And we're all but out of booze
So here's to Irma Donegal
Here's to Nellie Blye
And here's to my old friend," he said
And kissed his ass goodbye
"Give off! give off! You sorry lot.
Give off!," the Captain cried
"we've lost our bloody anchor
And we're driftin' with the tide
The swollen surf is pounding
Like a thousand cannons roar
And I shake the hand of any man
Who guides us into shore."
"We're saved! We're saved!"
The soldiers said
"We're saved!," the sailors cried
And soldiers climbed aboard
While sailors left from either side
Some swabbies hit the minefield and
The rifles got the rest
And somewhere there's a schooner
Sinkin' slowly in the west
by Kris Kristofferson, Bob Neuwirth, Roger McGuinn, Seymour Cassell
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Mark Force
Trad climber
Cave Creek, AZ
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Mar 10, 2013 - 03:54pm PT
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When I get into that mode, I'll usually hum classical tunes to calm myself down. Usually Mozart or Handel, but one of the most effective for me is Strauss' Blue Danube. Hey, whatever prevents a meltdown!
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ruppell
climber
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Mar 10, 2013 - 06:39pm PT
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jefe
That's a good one. I like it. So from now now it will be that on easy cruiser terrain than High Speed Dirt when faced with the hard move. High Speed Dirt is actually about skydiving but I just dig that song when I'm way out there.
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GhoulweJ
Trad climber
El Dorado Hills, CA
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Mar 10, 2013 - 06:45pm PT
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Back In The Saddle Again
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thebravecowboy
Social climber
Colorado Plateau
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Mar 11, 2013 - 11:33am PT
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Weeeelllll, it smells like poop and it shore looks crappy (*shore looks crappy*)
Poopship Destroyer:
Let me lock in the system at Warp 2
Push it on into systematic overdrive, you know what to do
Let's cruise past all the golden poo
That makes me blue
This thing gonna dooodddooooddooo on the...
Poopship, poopship destroyer
On the poopship, poopship destroyer
Let me jam all the frequencies on channel 2
I've been chewin' on this brownie
And I thinks I'm almost through
Let's cruise, the chocolate stew was you know who
I told you to jam the frequency
This sector's chartered by you
Everybody
Poopship, on the poopship destroyer
The poopship, poopship destroyer
Poo, poo, poop
The Blarney Stone:
Get off my ass you wee bitty f*#k
If I pull out the Claymore you're sh#t outta luck
Who's that girl, that pretty young thing
After I f*#k her she'll get up and sing
Aye Aye Aye -- sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye -- the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
Down to the pub for a two shilling ale
The bread on the counter is going stale
If I don't get some fresh bread soon
Gonna punch you in your face and bark at the moon
Aye Aye Aye -- sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye -- the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
Ain't got no girl 'cuz I haven't the time
Got too many other things on me mind
Patty was nice she was pale and cute
But I threw her away like an old piece of fruit
Aye Aye Aye -- sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye -- the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
Got ooze in my pores my feet are all wet
Got mold in my ears but I ain't dead yet
Got stones in me bladder got a crack in me head
When Patty starts cryin' this is what I said
Aye Aye Aye -- sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye
Aye Aye Aye -- the Blarney Stone brings a tear to me eye
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donini
Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
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Mar 11, 2013 - 11:44am PT
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Oh sh#t, oh f*#k, oh dear.....
how in the hell did i get here?
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briham89
Big Wall climber
san jose, ca
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Mar 11, 2013 - 11:47am PT
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Tenacious D...it's a stress reliever
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BooDawg
Social climber
Butterfly Town
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Mar 11, 2013 - 01:09pm PT
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The Irish Rover, one of my favorite all-time sailor songs...
On the year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the port quay of Cork.
We were sailing away with a Cargo of bricks
For the grand City Hall of New York.
We'd a near-leaking craft, it was rigged fore and aft.
And how the trade winds drove her.
She had twenty-three masts and she stood several blasts,
And they called her the Irish Rover.
There was Bobby McGee from the banks of the Leith.
There was Hogan from county Tyrone.
There was John D. McGirk, who was scared stiff of work,
And a chap from Westmeath named Malone.
There was Slugger O'Toole, who was drunk as a rule,
And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover,
And a man, Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover.
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags,
We had two million barrels of pone.
We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails,
We had four million barrels of bone.
We had five million hogs,
And six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million sides of poor blind horses' hides
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
We had sailed seven years when the mizzens broke out
And the ship lost her way in the fog.
And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two.
Twas meself and the captain's old dog.
Well, the ship struck a rock, and Lord what a shock!
I nearly tumbled over.
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
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Wayno
Big Wall climber
Seattle, WA
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Mar 11, 2013 - 01:51pm PT
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You ever heard of Barnacle Bill the Sailor? Google it. Not for the kids.
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Brandon-
climber
The Granite State.
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Mar 11, 2013 - 01:53pm PT
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Well, that's three of us who favor Ween.
They might be just your thing, or you may be up shits creek with a turd for a paddle.
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neversummer
climber
30 mins. from suicide USA
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Mar 11, 2013 - 01:58pm PT
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"south of heaven"
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Ben Emery
Trad climber
Australia via Bay Area via Australia...
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Mar 12, 2013 - 05:14am PT
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+1 for Ween, good to to know I'm in good company. More than one non-Ween listening belayer has been slightly startled by my apparent request for them to piss up a rope as I contemplate a crux move.
Other favored tunes include whistling Alpha Beta Gaga (Air) or the sung bass part of "Don't eat the yellow snow" (Zappa).
When things get more hairy I'm accused of making Yoda-like noises.
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Plaidman
Trad climber
South Slope of Mt. Tabor, Portland, Oregon, USA
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Mar 12, 2013 - 11:37am PT
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This is that old Who song "Behind Blue Eyes". They had to change the lyrics cause of taste and decency...or decadency. Can't remember which.
No one knows what it's like
To be Plaidman
To be the sad man
Behind these eyes
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
No one knows what it's like
To be the Plaidman
To be the sad man
Behind these eyes
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nutjob
Sport climber
Almost to Hollywood, Baby!
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Mar 12, 2013 - 12:02pm PT
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Nice, Plaidman.
I go with something from Air Supply's Greatest Hits
Or the doors:
"Tell all the people that you see,
you'll be free,
follow me down"
Or "Davey, Davey Crockett, king of the wild frontier"
Or
"Goodnight sweet love, well, it's time to go.
Goodnight sweet love, well, it's time to go.
I hate to leave you but I really must say,
Goodnight sweet love, goodnight"
Or "Ba-ba-ba, ba-bar-baraaaan..."
Or
"In the days of my youth,
I was told what it means to be a man.
Now I've reached that age,
I try to do those things the best I can.
Good times, Bad times, you know I've had my share..."
Or
"Did you ever know that you're my hero
You're everything I would like to be
If I could fly higher than an eagle
You are the wind beneath my wings"
Stuff like that
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Fletcher
Trad climber
The great state of advaita
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Mar 12, 2013 - 12:07pm PT
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Theme song from Giligan's Island.
If it get's really weird, the Stairway to Heaven version:
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Eric
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