low_delta | Entries tagged with lyrics

'Cause everybody's gotta have somebody to look down on
Prove they can be better than, at any time they choose
Someone doin' somethin' dirty, decent folks can frown on
If you can't find nobody else, then help yourself to me

from "Jesus Was A Capricorn" by Kris Kristofferson

"Johnny B. Goode / Road Runner" as recorded by the Sex Pistols

[Paul:] We'll play Johnny B. Goode; he'll sing Through My Eyes.

[Paul:] Tell John. Tell him.

[Johnny:] What?

[Paul:] Tell him. He can't hear me in here

[Other Voice:] They wanna play Johnny B. Goode while you sing Through my eyes.

[Johnny:] God! Awright, then.

[Paul:] Ready? Go!

[Johnny:]
If you could see... oh God, fuck off...
Ayanlouisiannayaya New Orleans
Awasabadababyanalittle key
Ayainanananananana Johnny B. Goode
Agogogogogogo Johnny B. Goode
Agogo, go Johnny, gogogogogo
I don't know the words!
Gogogogogogogogogogogyogyuh
Ayayayayastrah yayastrahyayaya
Ayayayayastrah andabanayaya
I wannawannabay, yayayaya
Let's gogo, ago Johnny gogogogo
Agogo, go go go go gogogogogogogogogogogogogogo
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go! Johnny B. Goode
Ayayayayayayayayayayayagwuah
Oh, fuck, it's awful!
Hate songs like that!
The pits!
Eeeeeeyayayayay eeeee!
Eeyeah!
Brrrrrah!
Brrrrrayayayayay!
Uah!
'ey, I know, oi, oi, Steve -- Roadrunner!
Roadrunner!
Roadrun...!
Should we do roadrunner?
'ey, that's fuckin' awful -- stop it.
Stop it; it's fuckin' awful!
Aaah! Torture.
Duh ug duh duh duh duh mah eyah
I donno the words!
I donno'ow it starts; I've forgotten it!
Hold on; stop the segment. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Check out what how it starts. What's the first line?

[Paul:] One, two, three, four, five, six!

[Johnny:] Alright, can you start at the beginning, then?

[Paul:] Roadrunner, roadrunner, It's not 'ard!

[Johnny:] I can't hear you, Paul.

[Paul:] Roadrunner, roadrunner, go...

[Johnny:]
Going thousand miles an hour
Euhlalalalala
Awith the radio on
Aroadrunner, roadrunner
Aeuhmuh thousand miles an hour
Oh, God, I don't know it...
I drove past the Stop 'n' Shop
And I wah by the Stop 'n' Shop
An' I flarala wahbah Stop Shop
Have the radio on
Have touch with the modern world
I fell in love with the modern world
Fell in love with (???)
Have the radio on
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Agoin' thousand miles an hour
Felt in touch with with modern world
In love with the modern world
Alright, here we go now
Goin' twenty-eight watta power
It's all cold here in the dark
Fifty thousand watts of power
Agoin' thousand miles an hour
Awith the radio on
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Oh, God, I don't know it
It's fucking ridiculous
Wish I had the words...
Roadrunner, roadrunner
Agoin' thousand miles an hour
I felt in touch with the modern world
I fell in love with the modern world
Rockin' modern lover, modern sound, ana mosaround
Modern rockin' runner around, mosaround rockin' modern runner in touch
An' a radio on
I got radio on
A roadrunner, roadrunner
Oh yeah er ah ee ah eh uh
Do we know any other fuckin' people's songs?
'Ey? Brrrrrrr!
'Ey? Do we know an...
'Ey? Do we know any other fucking songs that we can do?
Do we know any other songs that we can do? I can't think of any.

Now it's come to this
Hollow speeches of mass deception
From the Middle East to the Middle West
Like crusaders in unholy alliance

Now it's come to this
Like we're back in the Dark Ages
From the Middle East to the Middle West
It's a plague that resists all science

It seems to leave them partly blind
And they leave no child behind
While evil spirits haunt their sleep
While shepherds bless and count their sheep

from "The Way the Wind Blows"
words by Neil Peart

Hail Mary, full of grace
Your boy kicked me in the face
He made my wife run away
for a big promise on Judgment Day
My wife called me a sinner
I guess I'll be fixing my own dinner
Now I'm left with pain and loathing
caused by a wolf in Messiah's clothing

My wife dumped me for a guy named Jesus
Now I see a cross and I fall to pieces
It hurts to say his dad's name when someone sneezes
My wife dumped me for a guy named Jesus

Do you think you're such a big shot raising people from the dead?
Or a sleight of hand with a loaf of bread?
You're a second-rate magician with everlasting life
whose latest trick is my disappearing wife

I'm as good as that guy named Jesus
I could cure a cripple with a prosthesis
And I can walk on water when it freezes
I'm as good as that guy named Jesus
And Jesus better watch his back...

This song originally appeared on the TV show, Exit 57.

I particularly love the second stanza.

Particle Man
They Might be Giants

Particle man, particle man
Doing the things a particle can
What's he like? It's not important
Particle man

Is he a dot, or is he a speck?
When he's underwater does he get wet?
Or does the water get him instead?
Nobody knows, Particle man

Triangle man, Triangle man
Triangle man hates particle man
They have a fight, Triangle wins
Triangle man

Universe man, Universe man
Size of the entire universe man
Usually kind to smaller man
Universe man

He's got a watch with a minute hand,
Millenium hand and an eon hand
When they meet it's a happy land
Powerful man, universe man

Person man, person man
Hit on the head with a frying pan
Lives his life in a garbage can
Person man

Is he depressed or is he a mess?
Does he feel totally worthless?
Who came up with person man?
Degraded man, person man

Triangle man, triangle man
Triangle man hates person man
They have a fight, triangle wins
Triangle man

Please tell me the reason
Behind the colours that you fly
Love just one nation
And the whole world we divide
You say you're "sorry"
Say, "there is no other choice"
But God bless the people them
who cannot raise their voice

(chorus)
We can chase down all our enemies
Bring them to their knees
We can bomb the world to pieces
But we can't bomb it into peace
We may even find a solution
To hunger and disease
We can bomb the world to pieces
But we can't bomb it into peace

Violence brings one thing
More more of the same
Military madness
The smell of flesh and burning pain
So I sing out to the masses
Stand up if you're still sane
To all of us gone crazy
I sing this one refrain

(chorus)

And I sing, power to the peaceful
Love to the people y'all
Power to the peaceful
Love to the people y'all

Current Music: Spearhead

Excess ain't rebellion
You're drinking what they're selling
Your self destruction doesn't hurt them
Your chaos won't convert them

Current Music: Rock and Roll Lifestyle - Cake

by Gil Scott-Heron

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

Says Red Molly, to James, "Well that's a fine motorbike.
A girl could feel special on any such like."
Says James, to Red Molly, "My hat's off to you.
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952.
And I've seen you on the corners and cafes, it seems.
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme."
And he pulled her on behind,
And down to Boxhill,
They'd Ride.

Says James, to Red Molly, "Here's a ring for your right hand.
But I'll tell you in earnest I'm a dangerous man;
For I've fought with the law since I was seventeen.
I've robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine.
And now I'm twenty-one years, I might make twenty-two.
And I don't mind dyin' but for the love of you.
But if fate should break my stride, then I'll give you my Vincent to Ride."

"Come down Red Molly," called Sargent McQuade.
"For they've taken young James Aidee for Armed Robbery.
Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside.
Oh, come down, Red Molly, to his dying bedside."
When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left.
He was runnin' out of road. He was runnin' out of breath.
But he smiled, to see her cry.
And said, "I'll give you my Vincent.
To Ride."

Said James, "In my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a '52 Vincent and a Redheaded girl.
Now Nortons and Indians and Greaveses won't do.
Oh, they don't have a Soul like a Vincent '52."
Well he reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys.
He said, "I've got no further use... for these.
I see Angels on aerials in leather and chrome,
Swoopin' down from Heaven to carry me home."
And he gave her one last kiss and died.
And he gave her his Vincent
To Ride.

by Richard Thompson
From his album, "Rumor and Sigh"

Drop-kick me Jesus, through the goalposts of life
End over end, neither left nor the right
Straight kick through the heart of those righteous uprights
Drop-kick me Jesus, through the goalposts of life

Current Music: Bobby Bare

The worst of you has finally got the best of me
Since I let go of you, I'm barely hanging onto me.

I know I hurt you
So you should get even
You've got some cheating to do
And if you ever come back
We can start anew
I'll wait right here
Cause you've got some cheating to do

Current Music: Rex Hobart & the Misery Boys

"Charlton Heston"

The pyramids were in construction
The pharoah glowed with satisfaction
But then to his immense surprise
His empire fell before his eyes
A hundred thousand busy slaves
Downed their tools and stood and stared

The Red seawalls stood like a canyon
The pharoah pulled up in his wagon
And saw within those walls of glass
A herd of whales go racing past
A hundred thousand fishy tales
Crossed his mind about the day

Then Charlton Heston put his vest on

The broken tablets had been mended
The golden calf had been up-ended
And old folk sitting round the fire
Would talk of voices from the sky
Babies sailing down the Nile
The recipe for locust pie
A hundred thousand frogs per mile
We'd always ask them to describe

How Charlton Heston put his vest on

Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal
Shalt not commit adultery
Boils the size of fifty p.
Lights! Camel! Action!
Bushes that refuse to burn
See these sandals hardly worn
Raining blood, raining bread
The night we painted Egypt red
Thou shalt not covet, shalt not lie
Thou shalt not bonk your neighbour's wife
The recipe for egg fried lice
A hundred ways to kill a fly
Love your daddy, love your mummy
Put your bread in milk and honey
Loved his fish, he did, he did
Never beat the wife and kids
Slouch though desert, slouch through sand
Until we reach the promised land
Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal
Shalt not commit adultery
Boils the size of fifty p.
Lights! Camel! Action!

You can roll that stone
to the top of the hill
Drag your ball and chain
Behind you

You can carry that weight
With an iron will
Or let the pain remain
Behind you

Chip away the stone
(Sisyphus)
Chip away the stone
Make the burden lighter
If you must roll that rock alone

You can drive those wheels To the end of the road
You will still find the past right
Behind you

Try to deny
The weight of the load
Try to put the sins of the past night
Behind you

Chip away the stone
(Sisyphus)
Carve away the stone
Make a graven image
With some features of your own

You can roll that stone
To the top of the hill
You can carry that weight
With an iron will
You can drive those wheels
To the end of the road
You can try to deny
The weight of the load

Roll away the stone
(Sisyphus)
Roll away the stone
If you could just move yours
I could get working on my own

copyright 1996 Core Music Publishing (SOCAN)
used without permission