Cut it up
It starts, you say its useless
Just stick on the favors with different uses
Here comes the sun, a lore excuses
Its easier to stay and no one refuses.
Cut it up
It starts, you say its useless
Just stick on the favors with different uses
Here comes the sun, more excuses
Where do you think I got these bruises.
These excuses, how they served me so well
They've kept me safe
They've kept me stoic
They've kept me locked in my own cell
These excuses, how they're so familiar
They've kept me blocked
They've kept me small
They've kept me safe inside my shell
Bringing this into the light shakes their foundation
And it clears my side
Now my imagination is the only thing that limits
The bar that is raised to the heights
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Stardust, Lady Stardust spread your hair across
Your universe of magic, let us in
Lets fly into the milky-way, climb these concrete walls
And say dont ever close us in
Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty
Sound of their breath fades with the light
I think about the loveless fascination
Under the Milky Way tonight
Lower the curtain down in Memphis
Lower the curtain down, all right
I got no time for private consultation
Under the Milky Way tonight
Wish I knew what you were looking for
Might have known what you would find
And it's something quite peculiar
Something shimmering and white
It leads you here despite your destination
Under the Milky Way tonight
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Remember the desperate nights, the nights when we fell into secrets.
We were gone so long.
Watching for the sun.
Remember...
The nights, the nights when we fell into secrets.
And that we were running for so long.
Watching for the sun.
All you can say is “This place is dead.” (It’s fucking dead.)
All you can say is “This place is dead.” (It’s fucking dead.)
Momma loves her baby
And daddy loves you too.
And the sea may look warm to you babe
And the sky may look blue
But ooooh Baby
Ooooh baby blue
Oooooh babe.
If you should go skating
On the thin ice of modern life
Dragging behind you the silent reproach
Of a million tear-stained eyes
Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice
Appears under your feet.
You slip out of your depth and out of your mind
With your fear flowing out behind you
As you claw the thin ice.
You're as cold as ice
You're willing to sacrifice our love
You never take advice
Someday, you'll pay the price, I know
I've seen it before
It happens all the time
You're closing the door
You leave the world behind
You're digging for gold
Yet throwing away
A fortune in feelings
But someday you'll pay
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Never you mind
Death professor.
Your shocks are fine,
My struts are better.
Your fiction flies so high,
Y'all could use a doctor
Who's sick, who's next?
Never you mind
Death professor.
Electrified,
My love is better
It's crystallized, so am I.
All could be the diamond
Fused with who's next
Wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
Cigarette ashes in her drink
Kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I don't know
Maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets and slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
Maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
She was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
On the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
I let the light sink inside my skin just so I can breathe again
Balancing the weight between creepy and obsessive
The world of the weight's on my back, backwards, wait
Words back me in a way, I need to be accepted
Everything is relative, the world is full of skeletons
Dancing to the rhythm to pretend that they’re alive
But I don’t got a bone to pick especially when they’re broke and hit
The funny one, it’s cumbersome to wonder why they try
A fifth in my right hand, quarters in my left
Until my half-life is a hole inside my chest
If I sit and listen with this individual diction
Is it indiscriminant or just a symptom of the sickness?
Or a metaphor of change?
To break a dollar, people write their letters for a chain
I’d rather write a chain letter, it’s better for the pain
And the people in my life that always said I was insane
I’ll throw a noose around the sun and be the pendulum
Tick-tock, tick-tock, I’ll wait until the medics come
I’ll be so high and so bright that if you want me back
You’ll have to sit and watch the setting sun
Bring my body to the ground
Before they catch a breath they’ll be calling it profound
Martyrdom for beauty’s sake, decorates the landscape
As everybody’s hands shake from quality they found
This is what it’s like to taste the Heavens and dismiss the grace
Another year, another fake expression in a picture frame
Another birthday wish and still it didn’t change
A lap around the sun never took me to a different place
But I have to keep floating
Until I meet Virginia Woolf trapped in sheep’s clothing
I could be the stones in her pockets when we walk in
To the ocean and marvel at the coast until we sink
And as her lungs filled with water
She watched the sun spill across her
Until the mud filled her armor
Sea shells spelled “Our love still will conquer”
Nope, bubbles rose to the surface
Anchored down where the stones and the dirt live
Taste the ground that she chose to submerge in
“Oh, Vir-gin-ia Woolf, don’t be ner-vous”
(No) With all the medicine, your head you said has driven you to go
And follow sadness, left for dead instead I’m diggin’ up your bones
They’re all intact and set up when I get to give ‘em all a home
An artifact that’s Heaven-sent, I get to visit on my own
I’m alone now on the go-round
That broke down slow when I pulled my soul out
For sold-out shows full of ghosts of old doubts
And profound hopes that I don’t control now
I know, somebody come and set me free
From the sea of an undetected grief
Some things that you love aren’t meant to be
Bleeding hearts run out of blood eventually
So we can call her my atonement
A message in a bottle that I wanted you to open
It’s a poem, a sorrowful devotion
That I left for you at the bottom of the ocean
Virginia
And the fangs been out since then
But up until the instant that I've went against it
It was ingrained in me that I wouldn't amount to a shitstain I thought
No wonder I had to unlearn everything my brain was taught
Do I really belong in this game? I pondered
I just wanna play my part, should I make waves or not?
So back and forth in my brain, the tug of war wages on
And I don't wanna seem ungrateful or disrespect the artform I was raised upon
But sometimes you gotta take a loss
And have people rub it in your face before you get made pissed off
And keep pluggin', it's your only outlet
And your only outfit so you know they gonna talk about it
Better find a way to counter it quick and make it, ah
Feel like I've already said this a kabillion eighty times
How many times can I say the same thing different ways that rhyme?
What I really wanna say is if there's anyone else that can relate to my story
Bet you feel the same way I felt when I was in the same place you are
Well some people try to pick up girls
And get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and
So Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Well the girls would turn the color
Of the avocado when he would drive
Down their street in his El Dorado
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Well he was only 5'3"
But girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not in New York
Oh well be not schmuck, be not obnoxious,
Be not bellbottom bummer or asshole
Remember the story of Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Alright this is it
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...
I was walking in the park dreaming of a spark
When I heard the sprinklers whisper
Shimmer in the haze of summer lawns
Then I heard the children singing
They were running through the rainbows
They were singing a song for you
Well it seemed to be a song for you
The one I wanted to write for you, for you
Lavenders blue, dilly dilly, lavenders green
When I am King, dilly dilly, you will be Queen
A penny for your thoughts my dear
A penny for your thoughts my dear
I.O.U. for your love, IOU for your love
Lavenders green, dilly dilly, lavenders blue
When you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you
A penny for your thoughts my dear
A penny for your thoughts my dear
IOU for your love, IOU for your love
For your love
I'm sure you see yourself oh so unique
You're just a sucker for the flame of the week
But you forget that in your fairytale, bitch, I'm the wolf
All this attention got you thinking you were a queen
You thought that everything in life you want should be free
Nothing is what you think
Merrily we sailed along
Though the waves were plenty strong
Down the twisting river Rhine
Following a song...
Legend's faded storyline
Tried to warn us all
Oh, they called her "Loreley"
Careful or you'll fall...
Oh, the stories we were told
Quite a vision to behold
Mysteries of the seas in her eyes of gold...
Laying on the silver stone, such a lonely sight
Barnacles become a throne, my poor Loreley...
And the winds would cry, and many men would die
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
You would not believe your eyes, how a voice could hypnotize
Promises are only lies from Loreley
In a shade of mossy green, seashell in her hand
She was born the river queen, ne'er to grace the land...
And the winds would cry, and many men would die
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
Oh, the song of Loreley
Charms the moon right from the sky...
She will get inside your mind, loveley Loreley...
When she cries "Be with me until the end of time"
You know you will ever be with your Loreley...
And the winds would cry, and many men would die
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...'
The more you see the less you know
The less you find out as you go
I knew much more then, than I do now
Neon heart day glow eyes
A city lit by fireflies
They're advertising in the skies
For people like us
And I miss you when you're not around
I'm getting ready to leave the ground
Oh, you look so beautiful tonight
In the city of blinding lights
Don't look before you laugh
Look ugly in a photograph
Flash bulbs purple irises
The camera can't see
I've seen you walk unafraid
I've seen you in the clothes you made
Can you see the beauty inside of me?
What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?
And I miss you when you're not around
I'm getting ready to leave the ground
Oh, you look so beautiful tonight
In the city of blinding lights
Time, time, time, time, time, time
Won't leave me as I am
But time won't take the boy out of this man
Oh, you look so beautiful tonight
Oh, you look so beautiful tonight
Oh, you look so beautiful tonight
In the city of blinding lights
The more you know the less you feel
Some pray for others steal
Blessings are not just for the ones who kneel luckily
This is my toothpaste moment, oh, I'll need to flash a smile
I'll be the super-absorbent-man, watch them flock to me in single file
And I'll need to do it with style, I need to keep me up to date
Swallowing the sun run another mile, it's overrated how we underrate
I dance in tune with what I fear
To do adrenaline
Completely rapt with what I hear
When passion colors everything
The songs I sing, from way out there to deep within
The face I wear behind my grin
I dance entangled with my dear
She pulls my every string
Completely trapped yet never here
When passion colors everything...
And when I'm finally brought to my senses
Parade the rain on my parade
Before I'm back to my defenses
To watch the whole thing escalate
I dance in tune with what I fear
To do adrenaline
Completely rapt with what I hear
When passion colors everything...
Call an optimist, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you
Call an optimist, she's turning blue
Such a perfect color for your eyes
Call an optimist, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
While I just sit and stare at you
I live in a town called Millhaven
And it's small and it's mean and it's cold
But if you come around just as the sun goes down
You can watch the whole town turn to gold
It's around about then that I used to go a-roaming
Singing La la la la La la la lie
All God's children they all gotta die
My name is Loretta but I prefer Lottie
I'm closing in on my fifteenth year
And if you think you have seen a pair of eyes more green
Then you sure didn't see them around here
My hair is yellow and I'm always a-combing
La la la la La la la lie
Mama often told me we all got to die
You must have heard about The Curse Of Millhaven
How last Christmas Bill Blake's little boy didn't come home
They found him next week in One Mile Creek
His head bashed in and his pockets full of stones
Well, just imagine all the wailing and moaning
La la la la La la la lie
Even little Billy Blake's boy, he had to die
Then Professor O'Rye from Millhaven High
Found nailed to his door his prize-winning terrier
Then next day the old fool brought little Biko to school
And we all had to watch as he buried her
His eulogy to Biko had all the tears a-flowing
La la la la La la la lie
Even God's little creatures, they have to die
Our little town fell into a state of shock
A lot of people were saying things that made little sense
Then the next thing you know the head of Handyman Joe
Was found in the fountain of the Mayor's residence
Foul play can really get a small town going
La la la la La la la lie
Even God's children all have to die
Then, in a cruel twist of fate, old Mrs Colgate
Was stabbed but the job was not complete
The last thing she said before the cops pronounced her dead
Was, "My killer is Loretta and she lives across the street!"
Twenty cops burst through my door without even phoning
Yes, it is I, Lottie. The Curse Of Millhaven
I've struck horror in the heart of this town
Like my eyes ain't green and my hair ain't yellow
It's more like the other way around
Since I was no bigger than a weavil they've been saying I was evil
That if "bad" was a boot that I'd fit it
That I'm a wicked young lady, but I've been trying hard lately
O fuck it! I'm a monster! I admit it!
Well I confessed to all these crimes and they put me on trial
I was laughing when they took me away
Off to the asylum in an old black Mariah
It ain't home, but you know, it's fucking better than jail
It ain't such bad old place to have a home in
La la la la La la la lie
All God's children they all gotta die
Now I got shrinks that will not rest with their endless Rorschach tests
I keep telling them they're out to get me
They ask me if I feel remorse and I answer, "Why of course!
There is so much more I could have done if they'd let me!"
When i feel the morning grass
I let down my guard
Because love comes from the dirt
In my own backyard
With an unbuttoned shirt
And your hands down his jeans
Well you treat me like dirt
But your hands stay clean
Because I give you my all
But you give nothing to me
So go on, do what you like
Do what you like to me
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
So she says its time she goes
but wanted to be sure I know
she hopes we can be friends
I think yeah, I guess we can say I
but didn't think to ask her why
she blocked her eyes and drew the curtains
with knots I've got yet to untie
what if I were Romeo in black jeans
what if I was Heathcliff, its no myth
maybe she's just looking for
someone to dance with
See, it was just too soon to tell
and looking for some parallel
can be an endless game
We said goodbye before hello
my secrets she will never know
Oh it's been getting so hard
Living with the things you do to me
My dreams are getting so strange
I'd like to tell you everything I see
Oh, I see a man at the back as a matter of fact
His eyes are as red as the sun
And the girl in the corner let no one ignore her
Cause she thinks she's the passionate one
Oh yeah! It was like lightning
Everybody was fighting
And the music was soothing
And they all started grooving
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
And the man in the back said everyone attack
And it turned into a ballroom blitz
And the girl in the corner said boy I want to warn you
It'll turn into a ballroom blitz
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
What if this storm ends?
And I don't see you
As you are now
Ever again
The perfect halo
Of gold hair and lightning
Sets you off against
The planet's last dance
Just for a minute
The silver forked sky
Lit you up like a star
That I will follow
What if this storm ends?
And leaves us nothing
Except a memory
A distant echo
I want pinned down
I want unsettled
Rattle cage after cage
Until my blood boils
Painted in flames
All peeling thunder
Be the lightning in me
That strikes relentless
From here the caravans are kids toys
And I can hold them all in my palm
I watch the sea creep round the corner
It connects the dots from here to you
The sunlight burning through the loose flags
Painted high on white church walls
I chase my blood from brain to thumped heart
Until I'm out of breath for trying
Worry not everything is sound
This is the safest place you've found
The only noise beating out is ours
Lacing our tea from honey jars
These accidents of faith and nature
They tend to stick in the spokes of you
But every now and then the trend bucks
And you're repaired by more than glue
Slowly the day breaks apart in our hands
And soft hallelujahs flow in from the church
The one on the corner you said frightened you
It was too dark and too large to find your soul in
I sat by the ocean and drank a potion, baby to erase you.
Face down in the Boulevard, yet I couldn’t face you.
There ain’t no use in crying. It doesn’t change anything,
So baby what good does it do?
Your friends, they all sympathize--maybe I don’t need them too.
Imagine I'd be your one and only
Instead I'm the lonely one
You, me...and a lie.
Silence is closer.
We’re passing ships in the night.
There’s nowhere to run away.
Said “Boy if you want love, you’ll have to go and find it with someone new.”
“Do you know who you really are? Are you sure it’s really you?”
Lies are a funny thing.
They slip through your fingertips because they never happened to you.
Time wounds all the heals, as we fade out of view...
[Queens of the Stone Age]
I took my troubles down to Madame Rue
You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth
She's got a pad down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine
Sellin' little bottles of Love Potion No. 9
I told her that I was a flop with chicks
I've been this way since 1956
She looked at my palm, and she made a magic sign
She said, what you need is Love Potion No. 9
She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink
She said, I'm gonna make it up right here in the sink
It smelled like turpentine, it looked like Indian ink
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink
I didn't know if it was day or night
I started kissin' everything in sight
But when I kissed that cop down at Thirty-Fourth and Vine
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion No. 9
Love Potion No. 9
Love Potion No. 9
Love Potion No. 9
You're sailing softly through the sun
in a broken stone age dawn.
You fly so high.
I get a strange magic,
oh, what a strange magic,
oh, it's a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
got a strange magic.
You're walking meadows in my mind,
making waves across my time,
oh no, oh no.
I get a strange magic,
oh, what a strange magic,
oh, it's a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
got a strange magic.
Oh, I'm never gonna be the same again,
now I've seen the way it's got to end,
sweet dream, sweet dream.
Strange magic,
oh, what a strange magic,
oh, it's a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
got a strange magic.
It's magic, it's magic, it's magic.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Life is just a fantasy
Can you live this fantasy life?
Life is just a fantasy
Can you live this fantasy life?
So forget all that you see
It's not reality, it's just a fantasy
Can't you see
What this crazy life is doing to me, yeah?
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Lunatic fringe
I know you're out there
You're in hiding
And you hold your meetings
I can hear you coming
We know what you're after
We're wise to you this time
We won't let you kill the laughter
Lunatic fringe
In the twilight's last gleaming
This is open season
But you won't get too far
'Cause you gotta blame someone
For your own confusion
But I'm on guard this time
Against your final solution
We can hear you coming
No you're not going to win this time
We can hear the footsteps
Out along the walkway
Lunatic fringe
We all know you're out there
Can you feel the resistance?
Can you feel the thunder?
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Mine, immaculate dream made breath and skin
I've been waiting for you
Signed with a home tattoo
Happy birthday to you was created for you
Can't ever keep from falling apart at the seams
Can I believe you're taking my heart to pieces
Ahh, it'll take a little time
Might take a little crime to come undone
Now we'll try to stay blind to the hope and fear outside
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind and blow me in to cry
Who do you need?
Who do you love?
When you come undone
Who do you need?
Who do you love?
When you come undone
Words, playing me deja vu
Like a radio tune I swear I've heard before
Chill, is it something real?
Or the magic I'm feeding off your fingers
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Wild thing you make my heart sing
You make everything groovy, wild thing
Wild thing, I think I love you
But I wanna know for sure
Come on, hold me tight, I love you
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Oh, Angie, don't you weep, all your kisses still taste sweet
I hate that sadness in your eyes
But Angie, Angie, ain't it time we said good-bye?
With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats
You can't say we're satisfied
But Angie, I still love you, baby
Ev'rywhere I look I see your eyes
There ain't a woman that comes close to you
Come on Baby, dry your eyes
But Angie, Angie, ain't it good to be alive?
Angie, Angie, they can't say we never tried
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
I changed her mind
And ended up here
Through stained glass eyes
And colorful tears
Fine, maybe I'll pretend right now
But I swear to god I'm gonna change the world
And I promise you someday we'll tell ourselves
"Oh my god, this is paradise."
I cherish my american girl
She holds them down
While I destroy the world
My desperate crimes
She don't seem to care
(Oh, yea)
She bites her tongue
So that we can tell each other
"Baby this is paradise
And it's so goddamn good."
I’m on the train that’s pullin the sick and twisted,
Makin the most of the ride before we get arrested,
We’re all wasted,
And we’re not going home tonight.
Covered in black we lack the social graces,
Just like an animal we crawl out of our cages,
They can’t tame us,
So if you’re one of us, get on the bus
If you’re a freak like me,
Wave your flag!
If you’re a freak like me,
Get off your ass!
It’s our time now,
To let it all hang out
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Militant minded shining diamonds with my heart on the ropes
Take the edge when I rewind I’m climbing the slopes
And there was I standing here wondering why
A blue rose never grows to a velvet sky
Why the Sun gotta go for the Moon to rise
And when we born why the first thing we do is cry
Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care."?
It's only half past the point of no return
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn
The thunder before the lightning and the breath before the phrase
"Have you ever felt this way?"
It's only half past the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run
Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder.
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,
And the forests will echo with laughter.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
We cling to each other
like a child and a mother
a desperation of separation
I feel I'm going under
to the left to the right to the middle
my head is spinning around
to the left to the right to the middle
I am going underground
untrue as true can be
we're seeking endlessly
no answers for tomorrow
we'll drown in our sorrow
Vanishing horizons
we leave each other cold
I am dying on the inside
nowhere left to go
the bruises on my skin
means you held too tight
the evil that you spoke of
doesn't make it right
I know what you're feeling
I know what you're thinking
I know what you're doing
I know what you're feeling
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns cold
We must away ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold
The pines we4e roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red it flaming spread
The trees like torches blazed with light
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