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its been one hell of a week
hell of a year hell of a decade tears for fear jumpin the cracks tween right n the wrong ridin the subway singin my song on a string we hang its such a fragile thread 5oo count sheets as we make our own bed seein red as we turn another page whether or not 9/11 was planned or staged ive been a rec cluse foot loose n folly free half the minutes spent climbin up a tree but its old and trees one day fall build your strong foundation moss roots n all stay away from what the tv calls the news false reporting nonsence bringeth me the blues freedom of choice? but not when someone else gets to choose all is phony baby all be a ruse so i frequent these diggs it be a real cyper place real folks fake folks habitate this space my space and i would have it no other way its been one hell one hell of a day so what is happieness to you is it the gum on your shoe is it the lines on your face as your travel mind n space or is it what it should be the last true meaning of the free for me its the family and what they mean to me i ramble on well this is really nothin novel ive been on the mountain and in the cave did i grovel ive talked so much shit for wich they still dont make a big enough shovel and i hide in my cavern its the one i call me hovel its been one hell of a life so far as i can tell so far so good so sue me if you would with cheer with beer dont sneer cause all thats saind in done its been one hell of a year vooms . [Edited 3/24/06 8:03am] | |
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Wat als er een vorm zou bestaan
om liefde in te gieten en een huis te bouwen waarin we ons beschermd en vrij voelen Voorlopig heeft er enkel passie bestaan en met haar een hoop weggegooide beloftes Tot nu toe was er enkel een slachtveld, een tekort aan adem Er zijn gedichten, natuurlijk, en liedjes van anderen Er zijn bomen die schrikken wanneer ik voorbijloop Omdat de pijn hen even het licht beneemt Er zijn bedelaars op straat, de troost dat duizenden anderen steeds weer de liefde mislopen zijn, er zijn talloze verkrachte vrouwen bedrogen mannen, kinderen met enkel een huid als huis Dat is er allemaal en daarmee kan ik leven ‘Fifty ways to leave your lover’ en toch steeds dezelfde pijn Maar wat als er een vorm zou bestaan voor echte liefde Het houden van een wimperslag, het voelen van een hart dat klopt een buik bekijken die op en neer gaat enkel door te ademen een manier om je nooit bedreigd te voelen Een manier voor jou om me nooit te bedriegen Een mogelijkheid voor jou om van alles en iedereen te houden En van mij nog net iets meer, van mij nog net iets hoger Sorry, can't answer your song in another way than with a poem... not a real poem actually, more a thought  | |
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voom, shausy! Power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely. - Lord Acton | |
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cborgman said: voom, shausy!
hey Chris  | |
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  | |
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Well done! | |
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sort of a backhanded way of saying that
YOU ALL ROCK! | |
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so what is happieness to you
is it the gum on your shoe is it the lines on your face as your travel mind n space or is it what it should be the last true meaning of the free for me its the family and what they mean to me  lovin' it.... She couldn't stop crying 'cause she knew he was gone to stay | |
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not as hard as you baby, not as hard as you  
We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their color. Maya Angelou | |
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Btw sweetie, by posting some of my own words I didn't want to avoid to show my appreciation for your song... lyrics are hard to understand in another language, but I've known for a long time you're a poet...not only the king of this site, but a very sensible poetic person in real life as well. I don't need to meet you to know thar.
Many of the things on this globe might be phony, but you sure aren't.  | |
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shausler said: hell of a week
hell of a year hell of a decade tears for fear jumpin the cracks tween right n the wrong ridin the subway singin my song on a string we hang its such a fragile thread 5oo count sheets as we make our own bed seein red as we turn another page whether or not 9/11 was planned or staged ive been a rec cluse foot loose n folly free half the minutes spent climbin up a tree but its old and trees one day fall build your strong foundation moss roots n all stay away from what the tv calls the news false reporting nonsence bringeth me the blues freedom of choice? but not when someone else gets to choose all is phony baby all be a ruse so i frequent these diggs it be a real cyper place real folks fake folks habitate this space my space and i would have it no other way its been one hell one hell of a day so what is happieness to you is it the gum on your shoe is it the lines on your face as your travel mind n space or is it what it should be the last true meaning of the free for me its the family and what they mean to me i ramble on well this is really nothin novel ive been on the mountain and in the cave did i grovel ive talked so much shit for wich they still dont make a big enough shovel and i hide in my cavern its the one i call me hovel its been one hell of a life so far as i can tell so far so good so sue me if you would with cheer with beer dont sneer cause all thats saind in done its been one hell of a year vooms . [Edited 3/24/06 8:03am]  | |
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