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#slava
The day begins with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive plays that song that's so elusive and the magic music makes the morning mood. A rider hits the open road, there is magic at his fingers for the spirit ever lingers, undemanding contact in his solitude. Invisible airwaves crackle with life. Bright antenna bristle with the energy. Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength. Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free. A familiar song plays, and he starts thinking to himself: It was a long, long time ago, wasn’t it? I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance, and maybe they'd be happy for a while. But February made me shiver with every paper I'd deliver, bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take one more step. I can't remember if I cried when I read about their widowed brides, but something touched me deep inside The day the music died. I see the bad moon a-rising. I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightnin'. I see bad times today. There's a bad moon on the rise. So bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye singin', "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die." They’re modern-day warriors mean, mean stride. Today's Tom Sawyers mean, mean pride. Though their minds are not for rent. Don't put them down as arrogant their reserve, a quiet defense riding out the day's events. And what you say about their company is what you say about society. Catch the mist, catch the myth catch the mystery, catch the drift... “Who are you?” The tap drips, the rider finishes his whiskey, “I've looked under chairs, I've looked under tables, I've tried to find the key To fifty million fables. They call me The Seeker. I've been searching low and high. I won't get to get what I'm after 'til the day I die.” They look at each other, then back at him, “Who? Whaddya here for?" He turns his glass upside down, slams it on the bar and says on his way out, “I like smoke and lightnin' heavy metal thunder racing with the wind and the feeling that I'm under.” He gets his motor runnin', heads out on the highway, looking for adventure in whatever comes his way. Yeah, darlin' gonna make it happen. Take the world in a loving embrace. Fire all of your guns at once And explode into space. Like a true nature's child we were born, born to be wild. We can climb so high, “I never wanna die.” Company, always on the run destiny is a rising sun. Oh, he was born, 6 gun in his hand. Behind a gun, he'll make his final stand. That's why they call him bad company, and he can't deny. Bad company 'til the day he dies. Screams break the silence, waking from the dead of night. Vengeance is boiling, he's returned to **** the light. Then when he's found who he's looking for listen in awe and you'll hear him bark at the moon. Years spent in torment, buried in a nameless grave. Now he has risen, miracles would have to save those that the beast is looking for. Listen in awe and you'll hear him bark at the moon. It's all the same, only the names will change. Every day, it seems we're wastin' away. Another place where the faces are so cold. He'd drive all night just to get back home. He’s a cowboy. On a steel horse he rides. He’s wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive. In the day he sweats it out on the streets of a runaway American dream, at night he rides through the mansions of glory in suicide machines sprung from cages on Highway 9. Chrome wheeled, fuel-injected, and steppin' out over the line, oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back it's a death trap, it's a suicide rap he gotta get out while he’s young. Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' Into the future. He wanna fly like an eagle, to the sea, fly like an eagle, let his spirit carry him. he wants to fly like an eagle 'til he’s free, oh Lord, through the revolution. But a storm is threatening The Seeker’s very life today, “If I don't get some shelter I'm gonna fade away. War, children! It's just a shot away. War, children! It's just a shot away. See the fire is sweepin' our streets today, it burns like a red coal carpet and a mad bull lost its way.” Out there in the fields they fight for their meals, they get their back into their living, “We don't need to fight to prove we’re right, we don't need to be forgiven.” The seeker feels around for his honesty, “So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell? Blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a leading role in a cage?” “There must be some kinda way outta here.” Said The Seeker to his radio, “There's too much confusion I can't get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth, none will level on the line nobody of it is worth.” Invisible airwaves crackle with life. Bright antenna bristle with the energy. Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength. Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free. “No reason to get excited.” The radio, it kindly spoke, “There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that and this is not our fate, so let us stop talkin' falsely now the hour's getting late.” But he knows that we'll be fighting in the streets with our children at our feet. And the morals that they worship will be gone. And the men who spurred us on sit in judgment of all wrong, They decide and the shotgun sings the song. We'll tip our hats to the new constitution, take a bow for the new revolution, smile and grin at the change all around, pick up our pens and poems, Just like yesterday, then we'll get on our knees and pray that we don't get fooled again. After this thought, he promises himself, and any who’s listening, “Well, I won't back down. No, I won't back down. You can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won't back down.” Carry on, my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Once he rose above the noise and confusion just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. He was soaring ever higher but he flew too high. Though his eyes could see, he still was a blind man. Though his mind could think, he still was a mad man. He hears the voices when we’re dreaming, he can hear them say: “Carry on, my wayward son!” He hears! riding off he says, “Don't stop me now, don't stop me. 'Cause I'm fighting for my country, fighting for my love. I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky, Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity. I'm a peaceful man who must fight so I'm gonna go, go, go! There's no stopping me. I'm burnin' through the sky, 200 degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I'm traveling at the speed of light!” There's a place up ahead and we’re goin' just as fast as our feet can fly. Come away, come away, if you're goin' leave the sinkin' ship behind. Come on the risin' wind, we're goin' up around the bend. Bring a song and a smile for the banjo. Better get, while the gettin's good. Hitch a ride to the end of the highway where the neon's turn to wood. Come on the risin' wind, we're goin' up around the bend. In a place he only dreamt of, where his soul is always free. Silver stages, golden curtains filled his head, plain as can be. As a rainbow grew around the sun all his stars of love who died came from somewhere beyond the scene you see, these lovely people played just for him: “Green grass and high tides forever. Castles of stone souls and glory. Lost faces say we adore you as kings and queens bow and play for you. Those who don't believe us, find their souls and set them free. Those who do believe and love, this time will be their key. Time and time again we've thanked you for peace of mind. You helped us find ourselves amongst the music and the rhyme that enchants you here.” Then the door was open, and the wind appeared. The candles blew and then disappeared. The curtains flew and then he appeared, Saying, “don't be afraid. All your times have come here but now they're gone. Seasons don't fear the reaper nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain.” We're leavin' together, but still, it's farewell and maybe we'll come back to Earth, who can tell? I guess there is no one to blame. We're leaving the ground, will things ever be the same again? It's the final countdown, it’s his final breath, and with it The Seeker finds his mark, “We all hear the call of a lifetime ring, felt the need to get up for it. You cut out the middleman. You got no time for the messenger. Got no regard for the thing that you don't understand. You got no fear of the underdog. That's why you will not survive.”
0
Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 8:55 AM UTC
RobertZorro
Slava
The day begins with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive plays that song that's so elusive and the magic music makes the morning mood. A rider hits the open road, there is magic at his fingers for the spirit ever lingers, undemanding contact in his solitude. Invisible airwaves crackle with life. Bright antenna bristle with the energy. Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength. Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free. A familiar song plays, and he starts thinking to himself: It was a long, long time ago, wasn’t it? I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance, and maybe they'd be happy for a while. But February made me shiver with every paper I'd deliver, bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take one more step. I can't remember if I cried when I read about their widowed brides, but something touched me deep inside The day the music died. I see the bad moon a-rising. I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightnin'. I see bad times today. There's a bad moon on the rise. So bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye singin', "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die." They’re modern-day warriors mean, mean stride. Today's Tom Sawyers mean, mean pride. Though their minds are not for rent. Don't put them down as arrogant their reserve, a quiet defense riding out the day's events. And what you say about their company is what you say about society. Catch the mist, catch the myth catch the mystery, catch the drift... “Who are you?” The tap drips, the rider finishes his whiskey, “I've looked under chairs, I've looked under tables, I've tried to find the key To fifty million fables. They call me The Seeker. I've been searching low and high. I won't get to get what I'm after 'til the day I die.” They look at each other, then back at him, “Who? Whaddya here for?" He turns his glass upside down, slams it on the bar and says on his way out, “I like smoke and lightnin' heavy metal thunder racing with the wind and the feeling that I'm under.” He gets his motor runnin', heads out on the highway, looking for adventure in whatever comes his way. Yeah, darlin' gonna make it happen. Take the world in a loving embrace. Fire all of your guns at once And explode into space. Like a true nature's child we were born, born to be wild. We can climb so high, “I never wanna die.” Company, always on the run destiny is a rising sun. Oh, he was born, 6 gun in his hand. Behind a gun, he'll make his final stand. That's why they call him bad company, and he can't deny. Bad company 'til the day he dies. Screams break the silence, waking from the dead of night. Vengeance is boiling, he's returned to **** the light. Then when he's found who he's looking for listen in awe and you'll hear him bark at the moon. Years spent in torment, buried in a nameless grave. Now he has risen, miracles would have to save those that the beast is looking for. Listen in awe and you'll hear him bark at the moon. It's all the same, only the names will change. Every day, it seems we're wastin' away. Another place where the faces are so cold. He'd drive all night just to get back home. He’s a cowboy. On a steel horse he rides. He’s wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive. In the day he sweats it out on the streets of a runaway American dream, at night he rides through the mansions of glory in suicide machines sprung from cages on Highway 9. Chrome wheeled, fuel-injected, and steppin' out over the line, oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back it's a death trap, it's a suicide rap he gotta get out while he’s young. Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' Into the future. He wanna fly like an eagle, to the sea, fly like an eagle, let his spirit carry him. he wants to fly like an eagle 'til he’s free, oh Lord, through the revolution. But a storm is threatening The Seeker’s very life today, “If I don't get some shelter I'm gonna fade away. War, children! It's just a shot away. War, children! It's just a shot away. See the fire is sweepin' our streets today, it burns like a red coal carpet and a mad bull lost its way.” Out there in the fields they fight for their meals, they get their back into their living, “We don't need to fight to prove we’re right, we don't need to be forgiven.” The seeker feels around for his honesty, “So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell? Blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a leading role in a cage?” “There must be some kinda way outta here.” Said The Seeker to his radio, “There's too much confusion I can't get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth, none will level on the line nobody of it is worth.” Invisible airwaves crackle with life. Bright antenna bristle with the energy. Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength. Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free. “No reason to get excited.” The radio, it kindly spoke, “There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that and this is not our fate, so let us stop talkin' falsely now the hour's getting late.” But he knows that we'll be fighting in the streets with our children at our feet. And the morals that they worship will be gone. And the men who spurred us on sit in judgment of all wrong, They decide and the shotgun sings the song. We'll tip our hats to the new constitution, take a bow for the new revolution, smile and grin at the change all around, pick up our pens and poems, Just like yesterday, then we'll get on our knees and pray that we don't get fooled again. After this thought, he promises himself, and any who’s listening, “Well, I won't back down. No, I won't back down. You can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won't back down.” Carry on, my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Once he rose above the noise and confusion just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. He was soaring ever higher but he flew too high. Though his eyes could see, he still was a blind man. Though his mind could think, he still was a mad man. He hears the voices when we’re dreaming, he can hear them say: “Carry on, my wayward son!” He hears! riding off he says, “Don't stop me now, don't stop me. 'Cause I'm fighting for my country, fighting for my love. I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky, Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity. I'm a peaceful man who must fight so I'm gonna go, go, go! There's no stopping me. I'm burnin' through the sky, 200 degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I'm traveling at the speed of light!” There's a place up ahead and we’re goin' just as fast as our feet can fly. Come away, come away, if you're goin' leave the sinkin' ship behind. Come on the risin' wind, we're goin' up around the bend. Bring a song and a smile for the banjo. Better get, while the gettin's good. Hitch a ride to the end of the highway where the neon's turn to wood. Come on the risin' wind, we're goin' up around the bend. In a place he only dreamt of, where his soul is always free. Silver stages, golden curtains filled his head, plain as can be. As a rainbow grew around the sun all his stars of love who died came from somewhere beyond the scene you see, these lovely people played just for him: “Green grass and high tides forever. Castles of stone souls and glory. Lost faces say we adore you as kings and queens bow and play for you. Those who don't believe us, find their souls and set them free. Those who do believe and love, this time will be their key. Time and time again we've thanked you for peace of mind. You helped us find ourselves amongst the music and the rhyme that enchants you here.” Then the door was open, and the wind appeared. The candles blew and then disappeared. The curtains flew and then he appeared, Saying, “don't be afraid. All your times have come here but now they're gone. Seasons don't fear the reaper nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain.” We're leavin' together, but still, it's farewell and maybe we'll come back to Earth, who can tell? I guess there is no one to blame. We're leaving the ground, will things ever be the same again? It's the final countdown, it’s his final breath, and with it The Seeker finds his mark, “We all hear the call of a lifetime ring, felt the need to get up for it. You cut out the middleman. You got no time for the messenger. Got no regard for the thing that you don't understand. You got no fear of the underdog. That's why you will not survive.”
Continue reading...
291
My eyes to Slava my seamstress say, "I'm begging you, sew me a new skin here in your living room to hold me together now because I can't seem to anymore... Dear Slava, I know you know, how the thoughts inside me are crazed, you've known my childhood days & it's not me here. Who's this dead thing in the living room? I feel the bones inside me, they're too loose. You see me falling apart, these eyes of mine the noose. Catch me dear friend, from myself! I'm begging you, change this stitch in time for me?
0
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
caffiend999
My Eyes to Slava My Seamstress
My eyes to Slava my seamstress say, "I'm begging you, sew me a new skin here in your living room to hold me together now because I can't seem to anymore... Dear Slava, I know you know, how the thoughts inside me are crazed, you've known my childhood days & it's not me here. Who's this dead thing in the living room? I feel the bones inside me, they're too loose. You see me falling apart, these eyes of mine the noose. Catch me dear friend, from myself! I'm begging you, change this stitch in time for me?
Continue reading...
23