Favourite lyrics

Oasis lyrics? Really? I'm a huge fan but come on they mean the square root of * all and Noel would be the first to admit that.

 

Feel much better on hashish or efedrine
Feel much better when I'm smoking a lot
Feel much better on acid or mescaline
Feel much better though somebody's not
In their kitchens and ballrooms and boardrooms and chairs
They'd have to pop up to the ceiling for someone to get high

Everybody wants to know, everybody's singing
If you really need to know, everybody cry
Everybody wants to know, everybody's singing 'why?'
Lord try and suffer this whole tribe

Feel much better on meths or on Windowlene
Feel much better when I've had my line
Feel much better on amil or Ketamine
Feel much better though somebody's not

When they're hepped up and paranoid with lithium lights They'll have to drop an ebeneezer to get a first class flight, now

Everybody wants to know, everybody's singing
If you really need to know, everybody cry
Everybody wants to know everybody singing why
Lord try and suffer this whole tribe

Dah, da da dadada da da - kind of stuff

Feel much better on Night Nurse, amphetimine
Prozac is better, * I got
Feel much better, Paracetemol, and Codeine
Feel much better, on heat, I get hot

With Wine Gums and diesel, Pot Noodle or fries
I'd rather die from emphezima than learn to just get by, and

Everybody wants to know, everybody's singing
If you really need to know, everybody cry
Everybody wants to know everybody singing why
Lord try and suffer in this tribe

 

You have such no idea what your'e talking about!
Noel Gallagher before the fact he is an amazing singer and godlike genious he's the best song-writer of his generation (ask sir George Martin) and if you can't see it yourself I think the problem is you.

 

No mate, Noel is one of my favourite people in music and definitely one of the most successful, he is a fairly talented songwriter but his lyrics are derivative and repetitive with absolutely no meaning. He even admits that! "Stand up inside the fireplace, take that look from off your face" "Slowly walking down the hall, faster than a cannonball" I could go on. I love the man and can quite clearly see that. I think you are the one with the problem if you can't look at it objectively.

 

Poem here says, Comment #1 uh Comment #2 is dynamite but Comment #1 is the one we decided to use here this evening because it makes a comment if you listen closely on what is now being advertised in East Harlem as the Rainbow Conspiracy a combination of the Students For A Democratic Society, the Black Panthers, and the Young Lords and this is my particular comment about that conspiracy, Comment #1.

The time is in the street you know, us living as we do upside down. And the new word to have is revolution. People don't even want to hear the preacher spill or spiel because *'s hole card has been thoroughly peeked. And America is now blood and tears instead of milk and honey. The youngsters who were programmed to continue * up woke up one night digging Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys. America stripped for bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes. The signs of Truth were tattooed across her often-entered *. We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal. Two long centuries buried in the musty vault, hosed down daily with a gagging perfume. America was a * the illegitimate daughter of the mother country whose legs were then spread around the world and a rapist known as freedom, free doom. Democracy, liberty, and justice were revolutionary code names that preceded the bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling in the mother country's crotch and behold a baby girl was born, nurtured by slave holders and whitey racists it grew and grew and grew * indiscriminately like mother like daughter everything unplagued by her madame mother. The present mocks us, good Black people with keen memories set fire to the * who ask us in a whisper to melt and integrate. Young, very young, teeny bopping revolt on weekend young dig by proxy what a mental * kicking they receive through institutionalized everything and vomit up slogans to stay out of Vietnam. They seek to hide their relationship with the world's prostitute, alienating themselves from everything except dirt and money with long hair, grime, and dope to camo-hide the things that cannot be hidden. They become runaway children to walk the streets downtown with everyday Black people sitting on the curb crying because we know that they will go back home with a clear conscience and a college degree. The irony of it all, of course, is when a pale face SDS * dares look hurt when I tell him to go find his own revolution. He wonders why I tell him that America's revolution will not be the melting pot but the toilet bowl. He is fighting for legalized smoke, a lower voting age, less lip from his generation gap and * in the street. Where is my parallel to that? All I want is a good home and a wife and a children and some food to feed them every night. Back goes pale face to basics. Does Little Orphan Annie have a natural? Do Sluggos kings make him a refugee from Mandingo? What does Webster say about soul? I say you silly chipe *, your great grandfather tied a ball and chain to my balls and bounced me through a cotton field while I lived in an unflushable toilet bowl and now you want me to help you overthrow what? The only Truth that can be delivered to a four year revolutionary with a hole card i.e. skin is this: * up what you can in the name of Piggy Wallace, Dickless Nixon, and Spiro Agnew. Leave brother Cleaver and Brother Malcolm alone please. After all is said and done build a new route to China if they'll have you.

Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?

 

The city Where kids are looked down upon
But its hard to flower in the shadow of a tower block
From where we know what its llike not to have and to want
Til one day a flower pops up between the weeds
One of us succeeds achieves what was once a dream
And it means so much more
I love it just to see it
Success and middle finger to all of our non believers

 

I heard the truth was built to bend
A mechanism to suspend the guilt is what you will require
And still you've got to dance little liar

Just like those fibs to pop and fizz
And you'll be forced to take that awful quiz
And you're bound to trip
And she'll detect the fiction on
Your lips and dig a contradiction up

And the clean coming will hurt
And you can never get it spotless
When there's dirt beneath the dirt
The liar take a lot less time

I'm sure it's clear and plain to read
Its not an alibi you need just yet
Oh no it's something for those beads of sweat
Yes that will get you back to normal

And after you have dabbed the patch you'll grieve
And then proceed to scratch the varnish off
That newly added calmness
So as not to raise any alarms too soon

And the clean coming will hurt
And you can never get it spotless
When there's dirt beneath the dirt

The liar takes a lot less time to decide on the saunter
Have you got itchy bones
And in all your time alone
Can you hack your mind being riddled
With the wrong memories

And the clean coming will hurt
And you can never get it spotless
When there's dirt between the dirt


No idea how he does it. Alex Turner is a genius. The worldplay, the rhymes within rhymes. He's always been an absolute master at crafting lines that roll off the tongue like rapping almost.

 

bob Marley


redemption song


o pirates yes they rob i
stole i from the merchant ship
minuets after they stole i
from the bottom less pit

,,,,,,,,,,, slan
bit dissapointed there not more bob Marley songs on here ,,,slan

 

OK I'm done,
I already came twice,
You ain't gonna make me *.
I'm all outta gas, not so fast,
Uh, your finger just went in my *!
Ow that hurts! Take it out now
Oh wait a minute oww put it back in, in in in.
This don't mean I'm gay, I don't like men.
I like *, *, *.
Now see that gerbil? Grab that tube.
Shove it up my *,
Let that little rascal nibble on my *.

Inspiring.

 

is it not stand up beside the fireplace?

 

You choose your leaders and place your trust,
As their lies water down and their promises rust,
You'll see kidney machines replaced by rockets and guns,
And the public wants what the public gets,
But I don't get what this society wants,
I'm going underground........

 

I think comparing the likes of Oasis to guys like Cohen, Dylan, Waits, Cave, etc, is like comparing Snoopy comics to Picasso.

But then again it does ask for favourite rather than best.

A few of my personal favourites:

Leonard Cohen: Chelsea Hotel No.2
Bruce Springsteen: Thunder Road
Simon and Garfunkel: I am a Rock

and my absolute favourite:

Woody Guthrie/Jeff Tweedy: Remember the Mountain Bed