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Inside Out

[Chorus]
I would swallow my pride
I would choke on the rhines
But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside
I would swallow my doubt
turn it inside out find nothing but faith in nothing
Want to put my tender heart in a blender
Watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion
Rendezvous then I'm through with you

I burn burn like a wicker cabinet
chalk white and oh so frail
I see out time has gotten stale

The tick tock of the clock is painful
All sane and logical
I want to tear it off the wall

I hear words and clips
and phrases I think sick like ginger ale

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song performed by Eve 6 from Eve 6
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cest La Vie

Words and music by chuck berry
It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished em well
You could see that pierre did truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madam have rung the chapel bell
Cest la vie say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
They finished off an apartment with a two-room roebuck sale
The coolerator was jammed with tv dinners and ginger ale
And when pierre found work, the little money comin worked out well
Cest la vie say the old folks it goes to show you never can tell
They had a hi-fi phono, boy did they let it blast
Seven hundred little records, all blues, rock, rhythm, and jazz
But when the sun went down, the volume went down as well
Cest la vie say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
They bought a souped-up jitney, it was a cherry red 53
And drove it down to new orleans to celebrate their anniversary
It was there where pierre was wedded to the lovely mademoiselle
Cest la vie say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
They had a teenage wedding and the old folks wished em well
You could see that pierre did truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madam have rung the chapel bell

song performed by Bob Seger
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fugue 1 / More Is More

Let it rain, let it rain
Let it rain, let it pour
Well have one for the road, put the bolt on the door
Let it rain cats and dogs
Let it rain rats and snakes
But just bring us more grog
And another red steak
Let it rain, let it hail
Let it rain frogs and toads
Butt just bring us some ale, well have ten for the road
Let it blow, let it roar
Let it rain bats from hell
Wipe their arses and pluck em, well eat them as well
(did you hear about clyde who are ribs til he died
At a sign that said all you can eat for ten bob
When the doctors were done pumping out his insides
He went back the next morning to finish the job)
Let the skies turn to black
Let it rain kangaroos
But just give us tobacco and tucker and booze

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song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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King Estmere

Hearken to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
He tell you of two of the boldest brethren,
That ever born y-were.

The tone of them as Adler yonge,
The tother was Kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deedes,
As any were, farr and neare.

As they were drinking ale and wine
Within Kyng Estmeres halle:
'When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to gladd us all?'

Then bespake him Kyng Estmere,
And answered him hatilee
'I know not that ladye in any lande,
That is able to marry with mee.'

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
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Too Old To Rock n Roll: Too Young To Die

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight. unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light. deaths head belt buckle --- yesterdays dreams --- the transport c
Rophet of doom. ringing no change in his double-sewn seams in his post-war-babe gloom. now hes too old to rocknroll but hes too young to die. he once owned a harley davidson and a triumph bo
Lle. counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs and prays that he always will. but hes the last of the blue blood greaser boys all of his mates are doing time: married with three kids up by
Ing road sold their souls straight down the line. and some of them own little sports cars and meet at the tennis club dos. for drinks on a sunday --- work on monday. theyve thrown away their b
Uede shoes. now theyre too old to rocknroll and theyre too young to die. so the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his leave. up on the a1 by scotch corner just like
Ed to be. and as he flies ---
Tears in his eyes --- his wind-whipped words echo the final take and he hits the trunk road doing around 120 with no room left to brake. and he was too old to rocknroll but he was too young t
. no, youre never too old to rocknroll if youre too young to die.

song performed by Jethro Tull
Added by Lucian Velea
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Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end - drank his ale too light.
Deaths head belt buckle - yesterdays dreams -
The transport caf prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams, in his post-war baby-gloom
Chorus:
Now hes too old to rocknroll but hes too young to die
yes hes too old ... etc.
He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs and prays that he always
will
But hes the last of the blue blood greaser boys
And all his mates are doin time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars and meet at their tennis club
dos
For drinks on a Sunday - work on Monday
Theyve thrown away their blue suede shoes
Chorus:

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song performed by Jethro Tull
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Never Can Tell

It was a teenage wedding
And the old folks wished em well
You could see that pierre
Did truly love the mademoiselle.
And the young monsieur and madame
Have rung the chapel bell,
Cest la vie,
-say the old folks
It goes to show that you never can tell
They furnished off an apartment
With a two room roebuck sale
The coolerator was filled
With t.v. dinners and ginger ale
But when pierre found work,
The little money comin worked out well
Cest la vie,
-say the old folks
It goes to show that you never can tell
They had a hi-fi phono
Boy, did they let it blast

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song performed by John Prine
Added by Lucian Velea
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We Are The People

Puppets in the dance are we
Or do we call the tune
Were keeping up our ratings
While we feed you wreck and ruin
Thespians of revolution, money in the bank
With our college boy lisps
Brown ale gurus sunday supplement priests
Lunch with urban guerillas
On expense account receipts
Opinionated interviews
From an informed source
Cant tell you no names
Secret of course
We are the people
I am you, you are me
We are the people, I am you, you are me
Any fool can see all the people
We are the people
Were on the side of politicians
Misquote their lies

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song performed by Nazareth
Added by Lucian Velea
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He Wasn't

There's not much going on today
I'm really bored, it's getting late
What happened to my Saturday (Saturday)
Monday's coming, the day I hate, a a a ate
(Pre Chorus)
Sittin' on the bed alone (Bed alone)
Starin' at the phone (phone)
(Chorus)
He wasn't what I wanted, what I thought, no
He wouldn't even open up the door
He never made me feel like I was special
He isn't really what I'm looking for
Uh-uh
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey
This is where I start to bite my nails
And clean my room when all else fails
I think it's time for me to bail (time to bail)
This point of view is getting stale, a a a ale
(Pre Chorus)

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song performed by Avril Lavigne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mac Flecknoe: A Satire upon the True-blue Protestant Poet T

All human things are subject to decay,
And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey:
This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young
Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long:
In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute
Through all the realms of Non-sense, absolute.
This aged prince now flourishing in peace,
And blest with issue of a large increase,
Worn out with business, did at length debate
To settle the succession of the State:
And pond'ring which of all his sons was fit
To reign, and wage immortal war with wit;
Cry'd, 'tis resolv'd; for nature pleads that he
Should only rule, who most resembles me:
Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,
Mature in dullness from his tender years.
Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he
Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity.
The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.

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poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
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