Charmless Man

by Damon Albarn

I met him in a crowded room
Where people go to drink away their gloom
He sat me down, and so began
The story of a charmless man

Educated the expensive way
He knows his Claret from his Beaujolais
I think he'd like to have been Ronnie Kray
But then nature didn't make him that way

He thinks his educated airs
Those family shares
Will protect him
That we'll respect him
He moves in circles of friends
Who just pretend
That they like him
He does the same to them
And when you put it all together
There's the model of a charmless man

He knows the swingers and their cabaret
Says he can get in anywhere for free
I began to go a little cross-eyed
And from this charmless man I just had to hide

He talks at speed he gets nosebleeds
He doesn't see
His days are tumbling
Down upon him
And yet he tries so hard to please
He's just so keen
For you to listen
But no-one's listening
And when you put it all together
There's the model of a charmless man

Gold Soundz

by Stephen Malkmus

Go back to those gold soundz
And keep my anthem to yourself
Because it's nothing I don't like
Is it a crisis or a boring change?
When it's central, so essential
It has a nice ring when you laugh
At the lowlife opinions
And they're coming to the chorus now

I keep my address to yourself
'Cause we need secrets
We need secrets back right now

Because I never want to make you feel
That you're social, never ignored soul
Believe in what you want to do
And do you think that it's a major flaw
When they rise up in the falling rain?
And if you stay around with your knuckles ground down
The trial's over, the weapon's found

Keep my address to myself
Because it's secret
'Cause it's secret back right now

So drunk in the August sun
And you're the kind of girl I like
Because you're empty and I'm empty
And you can never quarantine the past
Did you remember in December
That I won't need you when I'm gone?
And if I go there, I won't stay there
Because I'm sitting here too long

I've been sitting here too long
And I've been wasted
Advocating that word for the last word
Last words come up, all you've got to waste

Coloured Rain

by Steve Winwood

Yesterday I was a young boy
Searching for my way
Not knowing what I wanted
Living life from day to day

'Til you came along
There was nothing but an empty space and a pain
Feels like coloured rain
Tastes like coloured rain
Bring on coloured rain

I can see a sail of changing
Filling with surprise
United with a feeling
Bringing love into my eyes

The Dry Salvages (Pt. I)

by T.S. Eliot

I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
Is a strong brown god—sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier;
Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.
The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten
By the dwellers in cities—ever, however, implacable.
Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder
Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated
By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting.
His rhythm was present in the nursery bedroom,
In the rank ailanthus of the April dooryard,
In the smell of grapes on the autumn table,
And the evening circle in the winter gaslight.

The river is within us, the sea is all about us;
The sea is the land's edge also, the granite
Into which it reaches, the beaches where it tosses
Its hints of earlier and other creation:
The starfish, the horseshoe crab, the whale's backbone;
The pools where it offers to our curiosity
The more delicate algae and the sea anemone.
It tosses up our losses, the torn seine,
The shattered lobsterpot, the broken oar
And the gear of foreign dead men. The sea has many voices,
Many gods and many voices.
                                                             The salt is on the briar rose,
The fog is in the fir trees.
                                                             The sea howl
And the sea yelp, are different voices
Often together heard: the whine in the rigging,
The menace and caress of wave that breaks on water,
The distant rote in the granite teeth,
And the wailing warning from the approaching headland
Are all sea voices, and the heaving groaner
Rounded homewards, and the seagull:
And under the oppression of the silent fog
The tolling bell
Measures time not our time, rung by the unhurried
Ground swell, a time
Older than the time of chronometers, older
Than time counted by anxious worried women
Lying awake, calculating the future,
Trying to unweave, unwind, unravel
And piece together the past and the future,
Between midnight and dawn, when the past is all deception,
The future futureless, before the morning watch
When time stops and time is never ending;
And the ground swell, that is and was from the beginning,
Clangs
The bell.

[Pt. II here]

You Go to My Head

by Haven Gillespie

You go to my head
And you linger like a haunting refrain
And I find you spinning 'round in my brain
Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You go to my head
Like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew
And I find the very mention of you
Like the kicker in a julep or two

The thrill of the thought
That you might give a thought
To my plea casts a spell over me
Still I say to myself
'Get a hold of yourself
'Can't you see that it can never be?'

You go to my head
With a smile that makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand Julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I'm certain that this heart of mine
Hasn't a ghost of a chance
In this crazy romance
You go to my head

La Marseillaise

by Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle

Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé
L'étendard sanglant est levé
Entendez-vous dans nos campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
Égorger vos fils et vos compagnes !

Aux armes, citoyens
Formez vos bataillons
marchons, marchons
qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons.

Que veut cette horde d'esclaves,
De traîtres, de rois conjurés ?
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ?
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ?
Français, pour nous, ah ! quel outrage
Quels transports il doit exciter !
C'est nous qu'on ose méditer
De rendre à l'antique esclavage !

Quoi ! des cohortes étrangères
Feraient la loi dans nos foyers !
Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers !
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers !
Grand Dieu ! par des mains enchaînées
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient
De vils despotes deviendraient
Les maîtres de nos destinées !

Tremblez, tyrans et vous perfides
L'opprobre de tous les partis,
Tremblez ! vos projets parricides
Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix !
Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix !
Tout est soldat pour vous combattre,
S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros,
La terre en produit de nouveaux,
Contre vous tout prêts à se battre !

Français, en guerriers magnanimes,
Portez ou retenez vos coups !
Épargnez ces tristes victimes,
A regret s'armant contre nous.
A regret s'armant contre nous.
Mais ces despotes sanguinaires,
Mais ces complices de Bouillé,
Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié,
Déchirent le sein de leur mère !

Amour sacré de la Patrie,
Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs
Liberté, Liberté chérie,
Combats avec tes défenseurs !
Combats avec tes défenseurs !
Sous nos drapeaux que la victoire
Accoure à tes mâles accents,
Que tes ennemis expirants
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire !

Nous entrerons dans la carrière
Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus,
Nous y trouverons leur poussière
Et la trace de leurs vertus
Et la trace de leurs vertus
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre
Que de partager leur cercueil,
Nous aurons le sublime orgueil
De les venger ou de les suivre

As I Walked Out One Evening

by W.H. Auden

As I walked out one evening,
     Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
     Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
     I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
     'Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
     Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
     And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean
     Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
     Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
     For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
     And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
     Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
     You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
     Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
     And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
     Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
     To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
     Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
     And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
     Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
     And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
     The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
     A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
     And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
     And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror?
     O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
     Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
     As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
     With your crooked heart.'

It was late, late in the evening,
     The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
     And the deep river ran on.