Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Cuyahoga

by Michael Stipe

Let's put our heads together
And start a new country up
Our father's father's father tried
Erased the parts he didn't like
Let's try to fill it in
Bank the quarry river, swim
We knee-skinned it, you and me
We knee-skinned that river red

This is where we walked
This is where we swam
Take a picture here
Take a souvenir

This land is the land of ours
This river runs red over it
We knee-skinned it, you and me
We knee-skinned that river red
And we gathered up our friends
Bank the quarry river, swim
We knee-skinned it you and me
Underneath the river bed

This is where we walked
This is where we swam
Take a picture here
Take a souvenir

Cuyahoga
Cuyahoga, gone

Let's put our heads together
And start a new country up
Up underneath the river bed
We'll burn the river down

This is where they walked, swam
Hunted, danced, and sang
Take a picture here
Take a souvenir

Cuyahoga
Cuyahoga, gone

Rewrite the book and rule the pages
Saving face, secured in faith
Bury, burn the waste behind you

This land is the land of ours
This river runs red over it
We are not your allies
We cannot defend

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

by Cole Porter

Who wants to be a millionaire? I don't
Have flashy flunkies everywhere? I don't
Who wants the bother of a country estate?
A country estate is something I'd hate

Who wants to wallow in champagne? I don't
Who wants a supersonic plane? I don't
Who wants a private landing field too? I don't
And I don't, 'cause all I want is you

Who wants to be a millionaire? I don't
Who wants uranium to spare? I don't
Who wants to journey on a gigantic yacht?
Do I want a yacht? Oh, how I do not

Who wants a fancy foreign car? I don't
Who wants to tire of caviar? I don't
Who wants a marble swimming pool too? I don't
And I don't, 'cause all I want is you

Who wants to be a millionaire? I don't
And go to every swell affair? I don't
Who wants to ride behind a liveried chauffeur?
A liveried chauffeur, do I want? No sir

Who wants an opera box I'll bet? I don't
And sleep through Wagner at the Met? I don't
Who wants to corner Cartiers, too? I don't
And I don't, 'cause all I want is you

Friday, July 8, 2016

You Did That for Me

by Sara Groves

I don't have to cry anymore
I don't have to worry about what's in store
I've walked that road exhausted and poor
I don't have to cry anymore

I don't have to know it all
I don't have to be so proud and stand so tall
I climbed that mountain only to fall
I don't have to know it all

You did that for me
You wore the chains so I could be free
You did that for me

And I don't have to be ashamed
Hang my head or shoulder the blame
Wondering if my life's been in vain
I don't have to be ashamed

Man of sorrows
Well acquainted with grief
Drug down to the city dump
Spread eagle on a cross beam
Propped up like a scarecrow
Nailed like a thief
There for all the world to see

Monday, July 4, 2016

All in the Golden Afternoon

by Lewis Carroll

All in the golden afternoon
      Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
      By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
      Our wanderings to guide.

Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour.
      Beneath such dreamy weather.
To beg a tale of breath too weak
      To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
      Against three tongues together?

Imperious Prima flashes forth
      Her edict 'to begin it'—
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
      'There will be nonsense in it!'—
While Tertia interrupts the tale
      Not more than once a minute.

Anon, to sudden silence won,
      In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
      Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast—
      And half believe it true.

And ever, as the story drained
      The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
      To put the subject by,
'The rest next time—' 'It is next time!'
      The happy voices cry.

Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
      Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out—
      And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
      Beneath the setting' sun.

Alice! a childish story take,
      And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
      In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers
      Pluck'd in a far-off land.

Monday, June 27, 2016

Hungry Freaks, Daddy

by Frank Zappa

Mr. America, walk on by
Your schools that do not teach
Mr. America, walk on by
The minds that won't be reached

Mr. America, try to hide
The emptiness that's you inside
When once you find that the way you lied
And all the corny tricks you tried
Will not forestall the rising tide
Of hungry freaks, daddy

They won't go for no more
Great midwestern hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say
What's on their minds
The left-behinds
Of the Great Society

Mr. America, walk on by
Your supermarket dream
Mr. America, walk on by
The liquor store supreme

Mr. America, try to hide
The product of your savage pride
The useful minds that it denied
The day you shrugged and stepped aside
You saw their clothes and then you cried:
Those hungry freaks, daddy

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Gimme Shelter

by Mick Jagger

A storm is threatening
My very life today
If I don't get some shelter
I'm going to fade away

War, children
It's just a shot away

See the fire is sweeping
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way

Rape, murder
It's just a shot away

The floods is threatning
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I'm going to fade away

Love, sister
It's just a kiss away

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Stanley Park

by Aoife O'Donovan

See that gull on the old sea wall
Songbirds fly and others fall
I sleep to the beating of their wings
The wind sings

See that babe at her mother's breast
If I could, I'd take my rest
Back in the belly from where I came
Nobody knows my name

Half-asleep in a bowl of gruel
No one told me life was cruel
My home is in this valley now
But it's burning down

If I find a fire escape
I'll break the past and put on my cape
I'll pretend I'm Superman
Where are my friends?

I'm a poor wayfarer, and I've
Got no one to dry my eyes
Time to lay this body down
In the frozen ground

When I die, though it bring me back
As a snow-white gull I'll make my tracks
On the sandy beach of the English bay
And I'll fly away