One song.
''
Once you steal the night sky
everything you loved it
you'll be sorry, you'll be sorry that I'm not here
hands looking for love most''
I dont like to much pop music but globaly i love music.
For example i love italian Ana Oxa,Zuckero,Eros Ramzoti
i dont know why ?
But this people music is great:D
Infact i love all music from 80' especialy from Europe.
Music is magic. That is why I always love watching that scene in "Close Encounters" where the alien ship and humans communicate via music and light.
danbaron
26-04-2011, 06:02
Other music I liked somewhat. But, the only music I ever really liked, was made by - The Doors.
(Of course, the lyrics alone, are not much compared to their rendition of the song. And, they made many others too.)
The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)
the doors - Jim Morrison
I want to tell you about Texas Radio
and the big beat
It comes out of the Virginia swamps
Cool and slow, with plenty of precision,
and a back beat
Narrow and hard to master
Some call it heavenly in its brilliance
Others, mean and rueful of the
Western Dream
I love the friends I have gathered
together on this thin raft
We have constructed pyramids in
honor of our escaping
This is the land where the
Pharaoh died
The Negroes in the forest
brightly feathered
And they are saying
"Forget the night! Live with us in
forests of azure
Out here on the perimeter, there are
no stars
Out here we is stoned - immaculate"
Listen to this I'll tell you about
the heartache,
I'll tell you about the heartache and
the loss of God
I'll tell you about the hopeless night
The meager food for souls forgot
Tell you about the maiden with
wrought iron soul
I'll tell you this
No eternal reward can forgive us now
for wasting the dawn
I'll tell you about Texas Radio
and the big beat
Soft-driven, slow and mad like some
new language
Now listen to this I'll tell you
about Texas
I'll tell you about Texas Radio
I'll tell you about the hopeless night
The wanderin' the Western dream
Tell you about the maiden with
wrought iron soul ...
Maybe, one more.
It can't hurt.
Been Down So Long
the doors - Jim Morrison
Well, I been down so god-damn long
That it looks like up to me
Well, I been down so very damn long
That it looks like up to me
Now, why don't one of you people
C'mon and set me free?
I said warden, warden, warden
Won't you break your lock and key
I said warden, warden, warden
Won't you break your lock and key
Hey, come along here, mister
C'mon and let the poor boy be
Baby, baby, baby
Won't you get down on your knees
Baby, baby, baby
Won't you get down on your knees
C'mon little darlin'
C'mon and give your love to me
Oh, yeah
Well, I been down so god-damn long
That it looks like up to me
Well, I been down so very damn long
That it looks like up to me
Now why don't one of you people
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon
And set me free! ...
danbaron
26-04-2011, 06:36
I used to make poems.
Here is a bunch of tiny ones, combined together.
(Who can objectively judge his own creations?)
On the Road to Bedlam
(D.T.Baron)
Blue skies,
mean you're safe from goodbyes.
In Hell,
Evil bears every pleasure and pain.
An abandoned mine.
A certain sign.
Vampires,
rule the empire.
Ignite the straw floor beneath,
the costumed ladies and gentlemen.
Signal the orchestra,
and let the dance begin.
Fallen blood,
converts dirt into mud.
A crow on a pole.
Black as coal.
The wedding was held,
at the cemetery.
In a meadow,
bright and airy.
A pretty case.
Alas, a defective mechanism.
The hand pushed up,
out of the graveyard ground.
No longer bound.
Swamp gas by moonlight.
A sentimental sight.
Alone in Hell,
some seek to dwell.
The eyes were old,
covered with mould.
The entire town and inhabitants,
fell into orbit.
The first rehearsal,
of gravity reversal.
A stagnant pond,
stirred by an iron wand.
Cannon fire in the afternoon,
means your picnic day is ruined.
A white horse ahead;
therefore you're close to dead.
Four hours of sleep,
for each hour of weep.
A golden ring.
A constricting thing.
Sometimes you can tell,
if you're on the right track.
By who calls you cracked,
behind your back.
Riders on the midnight road.
Black intentions bode.
Lead bells ring,
for the death of a king.
Three eyes in a head,
mean an odd life ahead.
A poison pie,
and the the eater dies.
Living or dying for glory.
A very sad story.
They didn't know whether,
to go ahead.
The bride still alive,
the groom now dead.
Moving sand,
will encapsulate when it can.
A broken clock,
and emancipated Tick & Tock.
A mausoleum,
is a death museum.
One eye red,
one eye green.
Neither one knew,
what the other one seen.
An empty cave.
A likely grave.
We entered the ancient abandoned palace,
and have been unable to find our way out.
Endless rooms, corridors, stairways,
halls, courts, gardens.
A free acting hand,
will ravage if it can.
Time is within Time.
A bright green arm,
foretells impending harm.
A beautiful maiden,
corruptively laden.
An objective mirror,
amplifies fear.
New morning quicksand,
is a momentous place to stand.
A rose bush in the weeds,
instigates bleeds.
"We raise animal families,
there, you see ?
So we can kill and eat them,
you and me."
He left his soul,
when he departed the gaol.
The rangers dress in,
green and brown cloth.
Use a vacant tar pit,
for your final fit.
A pounding heart,
aims an iron dart.
The isolated brain,
travels alone to the Land of Insane.
A rotting boat,
patrols the abandoned moat.
In Hell,
the Thing on the wet stone floor,
is smarter than any human.
And more evil than any human too.
An angry mind.
Possibly intentionally blind.
A decorated man,
will seldom stand.
A free swinging head,
turns gold into lead.
Each day the slaughtermen,
go about the gore.
In the always hidden,
factories of horror.
Spinning eyes,
conceal lies.
We must reduce the output,
of human progeny.
Just don't ever limit me.
A harvest moon,
complements a decaying tomb.
Each living thing shall have and attend,
its appointment with Death.
Death is patient.
Death has all the time in the Universe.
A rusting iron chain,
has witnessed much pain.
And there is where we left `em,
on the cold dark road to Bedlam.
The skin you're in,
won't conceal your sin.
The archers in the woods,
have blue arrows and purple hoods.
A pine tree pyre,
makes a wonderful fire.
Crossed lines on a palm,
so Death comes along.
Disorder,
occurs at each border.
A map knows the way,
but not the the day.
We shot pool there, too.
The tables were nine feet by eighteen feet.
They had twelve pockets.
There were forty-five balls, and the cue ball.
We played "Twenty-three Ball".
The "one foot on the floor" rule was suspended.
Three men in a tub,
on the black tarn of Glub.
Act the simple fool,
and observe from on a stool.
The stairways of Hell connect,
an infinite number of infinite floors.
Each floor is evilly unique.
Use a deep dead lake,
for a solitary wake.
Dead men don't drink ale ?
If you awake in a grave,
your condition is grave.
Grey skies,
mean your safe holds in sighs.
A loose hand in a cloak,
will attempt to choke.
Any exposed bone,
should never be thrown.
The grey and melancholy region,
was devoid of non-plant life.
There, the isolated towering house,
with the massive iron fence.
Only weeds were willing to approach.
Cut a hole through the ice.
The water's cool and nice.
All Hell's entry doors,
open into huge ancient empty halls,
of darkness and silence.
Bodies in the trees,
sway with the breeze.
Look underwater,
for a missing daughter.
Living on whisky,
is risky.
When a witch moans,
leave her alone.
Every thing within Time has a beginning.
If you're swimming in tar,
the trip won't be far.
A hidden castle in the wood,
is most likely not good.
A cavern beneath your house,
can be used to locate a guest house.
A cavern beneath the guest house,
can be used to locate a summer house.
No thing can cause itself to begin to exist.
Walk to a tavern in the wood,
and get as drunk as you should.
At that time -
The primary composition,
of human feces;
bodies of,
the lower species.
Don't worry your head,
impressing the Dead.
A brain in a jar,
the worst torture by far.
The Ace of Spades,
trades for four fair maids.
Every Loyalist had to choose between,
exile on Mercury or Venus.
Each place worse than the other.
When lightning strikes,
a roaring fire.
It fills the living,
with dead desire.
At the top of the violet mountain,
a beautiful turquoise fountain.
Alone in Space.
Enveloped in Grace.
The tiny train,
goes to Littleville.
Set upon,
a small grey hill.
The Black Knight,
in his armor bright.
An idle coffin,
can be used quite often.
Don't use too much time to think,
about how much you stink.
A mannequin man,
lives in Mannequin Town.
He's posed there as,
a mannequin clown.
A pink moon,
means romance soon.
A totem pole with living eyes,
never lies.
One half Iroquois,
one half sphinx.
Depicted on paper,
using Indian inks.
Loose eyeballs on the floor,
will roll towards the door.
In Hell,
the demons are the collectors,
the damned souls,
the collected.
Each soul unique.
A vacant room,
fills with gloom.
Beneath a red night sky,
your companion will lie.
Build your house on a steel frame,
five hundred feet above the ground.
Make a staircase for going up,
and one for coming down.
We stood upon the Sun,
our journey now begun.
If you find stairs leading,
down from your basement,
suspect an unknown placement.
Someone in a cage,
may rage.
The honeybees around the hive,
just happy to be alive.
The black-bearded pirate,
a buccaneer;
put down two pieces of eight,
for a sunken galleon beer.
Starlight,
restores sight ...