Best Rock Lyrics

[Undertoad]

Radiohead - Fitter Happier

Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laught at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.

[Flint]

wow

[Ibby]

The Gift
Velvet Underground

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.

But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.

Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and he wasn't there (Awww...).

The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled to appear. He'd just finished mowing and etching the Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.

It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as going tourist.

By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marshas face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.

Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.

Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak," and then attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."

She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," here she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.

It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room. "I dunno."

Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.

Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god, it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation. "Well, you might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the staple flap. "Ah sst," said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut." They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still, breathing heavily.

"Why don't you get a scissor," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath. "Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling, "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila, touching her finger to her head.

Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.

[Undertoad]

Dead Milkmen - Stuart

You know what Stuart? I like you. You're not like the other people here
in the trailer park. Oh no, don't get me wrong, they're fine people, good
Americans. But they're content to sit back, maybe watch a little Mork and
Mindy on channel 57. Maybe kick back a cool Coors 16-ouncer. They're
good fine people, Stuart. But they don't know what the queers are doing
to the soil.

You know that Johnny Werzner kid - the kid who delivers papers in the
neighborhood? He's a fine kid. Some of the neighbors say he smokes
crack, but I don't believe it. Anyway, for his 10th birthday, all he
wanted was a burrow owl, just like his old man. "Dad, get me a burrow
owl. I'll never ask for anything else as long as I live". So the guy
breaks down and buys him a burrow owl. Anyway at 10:30 the other night I
go out into my yard and there's the Werzner kid looking up in the tree. I
said, "What are you looking for?" He said, "I'm looking for my burrow
owl." I say, "Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! Everybody knows that a
burrow owl lives in a hole in the ground! Why the hell do you think they
call it a burrow owl, anyway?!" Now Stuart, do you think a kid like that
is gonna know what the queers are doing to the soil?

I first became aware of this, about 10 years ago, the summer my oldest boy
Bill Jr. died. You know that carnival that comes to town every year?
Well this year it came with a ride called the Mixer. The man said "Keep
your head and arms inside the mixer at all times." But Bill Jr., he was a
daredevil, just like his old man. He was leaning out saying, "Hey
everybody! Look at me, look at me!" POW! He was decapitated. They found
his head over by the snowcone concession. A few days after that, I open
up the mail and there's a pamphlet in there, from Pueblo, Colorado. And
it's addressed to Bill Jr. And it's entitled, "Do you know what the
queers are doing to our soil?"

Now Stuart, if you look at the soil around any large U.S. city with a big
underground homosexual population - Des Moines, Iowa, perfect example.
Look at the soil around Des Moines, Stuart. You can't build on it, you
can't grow anything in it. The government says it's due to poor farming.
But I know what's really going on, Stuart. I know it's the queers.
They're in it with the aliens. They're building landing strips for gay
Martians. I swear to God.

You know what Stuart, I like you. You're not like the other people, here
in the trailer park.

[skysidhe]

A part of "Entre Nous"


We are strangers to each other
Full of sliding panels
An illusion show
Acting well rehearsed routines
Or playing from the heart?
It's hard for one to know

[Chorus]

We are islands to each other
Building hopeful bridges
On a troubled sea
Some are burned or swept away
Some we would not choose
But we're not always free

[JayMcGee]

Hocus Pocus by Focus. Great lyrics.

[Ibby]

Midnight Radio - Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

[JayMcGee]

Hocus Pocus


Joladadijoladadijoladadijoladadi
Joladadijoladadi-jo-o-ooh!
Joladadijoladadijoladadijoladadi
Joladadijoladadi-jo-o-ooh!
Oooooh-oooooh-oooooh-oooooh...

[suzithecat]

Some people never come clean
I think you know what I mean
You're walkin' the wire, pain and desire
Looking for love in between

Eagles/Victim of Love

[Cicero]

LOL! Stuart.... I love that one.

Reminds me of,

"Don't try to tell me.....that you're an intellectual".

"Because you're just another."

"Boring bisexual."



I like to sing this one: Daniel Johnston
The Story of an Artist:



Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old

Some would try for fame and glory

Others aren't so bold



Everyone, and friends and family

Saying, "Hey! Get a job!"

"Why do you only do that only?

Why are you so odd?

We don't really like what you do.

We don't think anyone ever will.

It's a problem that you have,

And this problem's made you ill."



Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old

Some would try for fame and glory

Others aren't so bold



The artist walks alone

Someone says behind his back,

"He's got his gall to call himself that!

He doesn't even know where he's at!"

The artist walks among the flowers

Appreciating the sun

He does this all his waking hours

But is it really so wrong?



They sit in front of their TV

Saying, "Hey! This is fun!"

And they laugh at the artist

Saying, "He doesn't know how to have fun."

The best things in life are truly free

Singing birds and laughing bees

"You've got me wrong", says he.

"The sun don't shine in your TV"



Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old

Some would try for fame and glory

Others aren't so bold



Everyone, and friends and family

Saying, "Hey! Get a job!"

"Why do you only do that only?

Why are you so odd?

We don't really like what you do.

We don't think anyone ever will.

It's a problem that you have,

And this problem's made you ill."



Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old.

Some would try for fame and glory

Others just like to watch the world.

[skysidhe]

Hand Me Down-
Matchbox 20


Someday theyll find your small town world on a big town avenue
Gonna make you like the way they talk when theyre talking to you
Gonna make you break out of the shell cause they tell you to
Gonna make you like the way they lie better than the truth
Theyll tell you everything you wanted someone else to say
Theyre gonna break your heart, yeah

[chorus]

From what Ive seen
Youre just a one more hand me down
Cause no ones tried to give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down
I am with you now

Somebody ought to take you in
Try to make you love again
Try to make you like the way they feel
When theyre under your skin
Never once did think theyd lie when theyre holding you
You wonder why they havent called
When they said theyd call you
You start to wonder if youre ever gonna make it by
Youll start to think you were born blind

[chorus]

From what Ive seen
Youre just a one more hand me down
Cause no ones tried to give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down
I am with you now

Im here for the hard times
The straight to your heart times
Whenever it aint easy
You can stand up against me
And maybe rely on me
And cry on me, yeah
Oh no, no, no

Some day theyll open up your world
Shake it down on a drawing board
Do their best to change you
They still cant erase you

[chorus]

From what Ive seen
Youre just a one more hand me down
Cause no ones tried to give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down
I am with you now

Lay them down on me
Oh yeah
Youre just one more hand me down
And all those nots dont give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down...on me

[be-bop]

"The sky was Blble black in Lyon
When I met the Magdalene
She was paralysed in the streetlight
She refused to give her name

And a ring of violet bruises
They were pinned upon her arm
Two hundred francs fpr sanctuary as she led me by the hand
To a room of dancing shadows where all the heartache disappears
And from the glowing tongues of candles I heard her whisper in my ear

"J 'entend ton coeur

"Blue Angel" an excerpt from Misplaced Childhood by Marillion..

[Crimson Ghost]

BLACK SABBATH

"Planet Caravan"

We sail through endless skies
Stars shine like eyes
The black night sighs
The moon in silver trees
Falls down in tears
Light of the night
The earth, a purple blaze
Of sapphire haze
In orbit always

While down below the trees
Bathed in cool breeze
Silver starlight breaks down the night
And so we pass on by the crimson eye
Of great god Mars
As we travel the universe

[Crimson Ghost]

---------------- Now playing: Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers via FoxyTunes

Metallica

"To Live Is To Die"


When a man lies, he murders some part of the world
These are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives
All this I cannot bear to witness any longer
Cannot The Kingdom of Salvation take me home?

[Elspode]

Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,
Towering over your head.
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,
And she's gone.

{REFRAIN}
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Ah... Ah...

{VERSE 2}
Follow her down to a bridge by a fountain
Where rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies,
Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers,
That grow so incredibly high.
Newspaper taxis appear on the shore,
Waiting to take you away.
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds,
And you're gone.

{REFRAIN}

Picture yourself on a train in a station,
With plasticine porters with looking glass ties,
Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile,
The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

{REFRAIN REPEATED AND FADED}