Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Ironic
An old man turned ninety-eight
he won the lottery and died the next day
Itís a black fly in your chardonnay
itís a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isnít it ironic, donít you think.
Itís like rain on your wedding day
Itís a free ride when youíve already paid
Itís the good advice that you just didnít take
Who wouldíve thought, it figures.
Mr. Play it safe was afraid to fly
he packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his hole damn life to take that flight
and as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isnít this nice?" And isnít this ironic,
donít you think.
Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
when you think everythingís OK and everything is going right
and life has a funny way of helping you out
when you think everythingís gone wrong and everything blows up
in your face.
A trafic jam when youíre already late
a no smoking sign on your cigarette break
Itís like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
itís meeting the man of my dreams
and then meeting his beautiful wife
And isnít it ironic donít you think
A little too ironic, and yeah I really do think.
Well live has a funny way of sneaking up on you
and life has a funny way of helping you
Alanis Morissette
 
Yesterday
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks theyíre here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, Iím not half the man I used to be.
Thereís a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday, come suddenly.
Why she had to go I donít know she wouldnít stay
I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play
Now, I need a place to hide away.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Beatles
 
JESUS IS A BARTENDER
As my poor posture walked
in front of the house of the lord
it came to me
You canít drink
on Sundays until
sometime in the afternoon
The separation of
church and state
is
and always has been
false advertising
They know
that opening the bars on Sunday
to the blurry-eyed herds
would cost them
Cost them attendance
Cost them a sterling silver dish full of bribery
and beer money
Itís about the best they can do
to force people to listen to them
I wonder if anybody would
listen to me
if I had the power to keep them
from something they like
something they want
something they need
something real
Doubt it
Oh well one less career option
Sunday morning
Got to pay off your spiritual tab
so the holy bartender will give you credit again
Just in time for next weekend
Just in time for brunch.
 
Big Night on the town
drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt sleeves.
It's a clip joint'the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. in a dead cow world.
you ask her hoy much for head,
drink every down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have rememberd where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.
Charles Bukowski
 
The Grouch
I was a young boy that had big plans.
Now Iím just another shitty old man.
I donít have fun and I hate every thing.
The world owes me so fuck you.
Glory days donít mean shit to me.
I drank a six pack of apathy.
Lifeís a birth and so am I.
The world ones me so fuck you.
Waited youth and a fistful of ideals.
I had a young and optimistic point of view.
Wasted youth and a fist full of ideals.
I had a young and optimistic point of view.
Iíve decomposed, yet my gutís getting fat.
Oh, my god Iím turning out like my dad.
Iím just a grouch sitting on the couch.
The world owes me so fuck you.
The wifeís a nag and the kidís fucking up.
I donít have sex Ďcause I canít get it up.
Iím always rude.
Iíve got a bad attitude.
The world owes me, so fuck you.
Haushinka
 Haushinka is a girl with a peculiar name.
I met her on the eve of my birthday.
Did she know, before she went away.
Does she know?
But itís too damn late.
This girl has gone far away.
Now sheís gone.
All I have now is a memory to date.
A cheap hat and cigarettes,
And a peculiar name.
I didnít know, I didnít know,
Before she went away.
I know now, and itís too damn late.
Will she ever find her way?
Iím too damn young to be too late,
But am I?
Yet again Iím kicking myself,
And Iíll be here in battle scars,
Waiting for you.
Waiting for you now.
Green Day.
 
Donít Speak
 
You an me, we used to be together
Every day together, always.
I really feel that Iím losing my best friend.
I canít believe that this could be the end.
It looks as though youíre letting go,
And if itís real, well I donít want to know.
 Donít speak; I know just what youíre thinking,
So please stop explaining; donít tell me Ďcos it hurts.
Donít speak; I know what youíre thinking,
I donít need your reasons; donít tell me Ďcos it hurts.
 Oh, memories, well they can be inviting.
But some are altogether mighty frightening.
As we die, both you and I.
With my head in my hands I sit and cry.
 Donít speak, I know just what youíre saying,
So please stop explaining; donít tell me Ďcos it hurts.
Donít speak; I know what youíre thinking,
And I donít need you reasons; donít tell me Ďcos it hurts.
 Itís all ending.
Youíve got to stop pretending who we are.
You and me, I can see us dying, are we?
 Donít speak; I know what youíre saying,
So please stop explaining; donít tell me Ďcos it hurts, no, no.
Donít speak; I know what youíre thinking
And I donít need your reasons; donít tell me Ďcos it hurts.
Donít tell me Ďcos it hurts.
I know what youíre saying, so please stop explaining.
Donít speak, donít speak, donít speak, oh.
I know what youíre thinking, and I donít need your reasons,
I know youíre good, I know youíre good,
I know youíre real good, oh...
No Doubt.
 
Song of myself
I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease... observing a spread of summer grass
Walt Whitman
 
 
index mail