Have you seen this live video of Eric Burden and the Animals singing House of the Rising Sun? It is amazing
http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=k...26feature%3Dkp
Have you seen this live video of Eric Burden and the Animals singing House of the Rising Sun? It is amazing
http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=k...26feature%3Dkp
You seek a great fortune, you three who are now in chains. You will find a fortune, though it will not be the one you seek.
But first you must travel a long and difficult road, a road fraught with peril.
You shall see things, wonderful to tell. You shall see a... cow... on the roof of a cotton house. And, oh, so many startlements.
I cannot tell you how long this road shall be, but fear not the ob-stacles in your path, for fate has vouchsafed your reward.
Though the road may wind, yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye follow them, even unto your salvation.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pukq_XJmM-k
I know no shame
The empire of my desire
Gathers you into my fire
I hope you fall. Hope you call,
My filthy name. It makes you crawl
On you knees, with all your pleas.
Lay down there, look up at me.
Are you alive my dear,and breathing?
Are you diseased my dear,and bleeding?
I'll lift you high my dear,
I'll have you dreaming.
'Tis time to say farewell, to your pleading.
Poor devils as thou art. A ruin at my feet.
Go drop your little life, and welcome up my sleep.
So briefly at my side. So simple in defeat.
No more lies utter from you.
From mine eyes I must take you.
No longer wise. Nothing is new.
Tears for my trembling faith.
You shall not die unsung.
Goodbye my dear, you wicked thing.
I have no tears, beautiful thing.
No silver pail to catch them in.
So ends this tale you did not win.
“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
Why have you put so many things into my eyes
(that I can't see clear)
Who's paid you for telling me what I'm worth
(and run in fear)
It has been for me a strain to see already
(what have you done)
The rising noise
The sharpened smells
The deadened sight
What is it in my eyes
A piece of broken glass
Is this the time I should be on my knees for you
Is this your way of telling
Another has been found
Now I know it's teargas in my eyes
“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
Let's go out and dance, darling
Our last of days
And grace the game with a blindfold on
The cheaters came to play
And outside the soft-handed boys
Screaming cars and all their speed
Music, meth, a hero beggin change
His sword across his knees
and how he prays to find a man to blame
For every sleepless night he spends
And for every well that he warned me of
But wound up falling in
And then for the kids beneath the balcony
Who disregard the rain
To make sure the king won't grant
The dead man one more day
let's go out and see darling
What shines tonight
And temper your dream about the dying horse
With traffic, noise, and light
And somewhere the soft-handed boys,
Bleeding hearts, and worker bees
Give to the holy mother begging change
Christ across her knees
and oh how she prays to find a man to blame
For every loveless night she waits
And for every gun that she frowned upon
But still some fucker made
And then for the kid beneath the balcony
Behind the garbage can
Who waits for the king to come
And hold his sweating hand