[.R]

@темы: Industrial Metal

---

Aaron - U-Turn

[GenomI]

@темы: Indie Rock, Piano Rock

---

[remi*]

@темы: Electronica

---

[remi*]

@темы: Instrumental

---

[remi*]

@темы: Instrumental

---

[эрегированный пенис]

---

[remi*]

@темы: female vocal, Trip-Hop

---

[remi*]

@темы: female vocal, Trip-Hop

---

[Шредингерская кошка]

@темы: Rock, Foreign

---

i was born at the bottom of a wishing well

[psycrow]

одна из самых смешных песен Боба, по-моему.

I had to say something
To strike him very weird,
So I yelled out,
"I like Fidel Castro and his beard."

I pounded on a farmhouse
Lookin' for a place to stay.
I was mighty, mighty tired,
I had gone a long, long way.
I said, "Hey, hey, in there,
Is there anybody home?"
I was standin' on the steps
Feelin' most alone.
Well, out comes a farmer,
He must have thought that I was nuts.
He immediately looked at me
And stuck a gun into my guts.

I fell down
To my bended knees,
Saying, "I dig farmers,
Don't shoot me, please!"
He cocked his rifle
And began to shout,
"You're that travelin' salesman
That I have heard about."
I said, "No! No! No!
I'm a doctor and it's true,
I'm a clean-cut kid
And I been to college, too."

Then in comes his daughter
Whose name was Rita.
She looked like she stepped out of
La Dolce Vita.
I immediately tried to cool it
With her dad,
And told him what a
Nice, pretty farm he had.
He said, "What do doctors
Know about farms, pray tell?"
I said, "I was born
At the bottom of a wishing well."

Well, by the dirt 'neath my nails
I guess he knew I wouldn't lie.
"I guess you're tired,"
He said, kinda sly.
I said, "Yes, ten thousand miles
Today I drove."
He said, "I got a bed for you
Underneath the stove.
Just one condition
And you go to sleep right now,
That you don't touch my daughter
And in the morning, milk the cow."

I was sleepin' like a rat
When I heard something jerkin'.
There stood Rita
Lookin' just like Tony Perkins.
She said, "Would you like to take a shower?
I'll show you up to the door."
I said, "Oh, no! no!
I've been through this before."
I knew I had to split
But I didn't know how,
When she said,
"Would you like to take that shower, now?"

Well, I couldn't leave
Unless the old man chased me out,
'Cause I'd already promised
That I'd milk his cows.
I had to say something
To strike him very weird,
So I yelled out,
"I like Fidel Castro and his beard."
Rita looked offended
But she got out of the way,
As he came charging down the stairs
Sayin', "What's that I heard you say?"

I said, "I like Fidel Castro,
I think you heard me right,"
And ducked as he swung
At me with all his might.
Rita mumbled something
'Bout her mother on the hill,
As his fist hit the icebox,
He said he's going to kill me
If I don't get out the door
In two seconds flat,
"You unpatriotic,
Rotten doctor Commie rat."

Well, he threw a Reader's Digest
At my head and I did run,
I did a somersault
As I seen him get his gun
And crashed through the window
At a hundred miles an hour,
And landed fully blast
In his garden flowers.
Rita said, "Come back!"
As he started to load
The sun was comin' up
And I was runnin' down the road.

Well, I don't figure I'll be back
There for a spell,
Even though Rita moved away
And got a job in a motel.
He still waits for me,
Constant, on the sly.
He wants to turn me in
To the F.B.I.
Me, I romp and stomp,
Thankful as I romp,
Without freedom of speech,
I might be in the swamp.

@темы: Folk, bob dylan

---

[remi*]

@темы: Folk, Instrumental

---

[a DOG]

@темы: Unknown

---

[iron willow]

@темы: Foreign

---

Iron and Wine

[GenomI]

@темы: Folk, Indie

---

[эрегированный пенис]

---

[catcherintherye]

@темы: Indie

---

[everland.]

@темы: Folk, Indie

---

[bickford]

---

[GenomI]

@темы: Industrial Metal

---

that is where the poets don't disguise their accents

[psycrow]

крутейший из молодых шотландских бэндов, как по мне.


("Death & Entrances", 2010)

The wisecracking sidekicks with knives at their throats
The sidesplitting tell-tales of harbours and ghosts
Moonlight sonatas with angels and demons
and girls and their droves waving kisses to heathens

This is no dream, these ghosts are no illusion
Vandals, kids and thieves
Although we often curse them, we praise them for their wisdom
As I try to believe what I've read on bus shelters
Cos that is where the poets don't disguise their accents

I don't dream, how could I ever dream
When my nightmares are entrances wholly enclosed, started and angry my palms are cold, stumbling around in my dream
He said, she said

I don't sing this for them, but for a bunch of my own heroes
My weather boy
These clouds they make me love you more
We sang you songs you gave us more
You say that's what your there for
But your more than that
Your the light

Chorus

The wisecracking sidekicks with knives at their throats
The sidesplitting tell-tales of harbours and ghosts
Moonlight sonatas with angels and demons
and girls and their droves waving kisses to heathens
Street walking send ups with glints in their eyes
The smell of stale alcohol lining their sighs
Saboteurs and swindlers all cast aside
Diving through orchards to surrender their loots
A mass in our hearts as we pray for your loss
Arriving with pity to plunder your feast
Aloof and self-righteous we all read the tale and tussled for ways we could all shift the blame
Sweet bittersweet are the sounds and the sights, bitter and sweet is the sum of our lives.

@темы: my latest novel, Indie