| Autor |
Mensagem |
adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
Aqualung
Sitting on a park bench --
eyeing ittle girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose --
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun --
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck --
spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
Sun streaking cold --
an old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
the only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
as he bends to pick a dog-end --
he goes down to the bog
and warms his feet.
Feeling alone --
the army's up the rode
salvation à la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend --
don't start away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me.
Do you still remember
December's foggy freeze --
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.
|
adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Cross-Eyed Mary
Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief --
if he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
from a laughing baby's mouth
if he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
but she always plays the game.
Dines in Hampstead village
on expense accounted gruel,
and the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.
Laughing in the playground -- gets no kicks from little boys:
would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung,
who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along.
She's a poor man's rich girl
and she'll do it for a song.
She's a rich man stealer
but her favour's good and strong:
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate --
helps the poor man get along.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Cheap Day Return
On Preston platform
do your soft shoe shuffle dance.
Brush away the cigarette ash that's
falling down your pants.
And you sadly wonder
does the nurse treat your old man
the way she should.
She made you tea,
asked for your autograph --
what a laugh.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Mother Goose
As I did walk by Hampstead Fair
I came upon Mother Goose -- so I turned her loose --
she was screaming.
And a foreign student said to me --
was it really true there are elephants and lions too
in Piccadilly Circus?
Walked down by the bathing pond
to try and catch some sun.
Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing
into hankerchiefs as one.
I don't believe they knew
I was a schoolboy.
And a bearded lady said to me --
if you start your raving and your misbehaving --
you'll be sorry.
Then the chicken-fancier came to play --
with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:
she drives a lorry).
Laughed down by the putting green --
I popped `em in their holes.
Four and twenty labourers were labouring --
digging up their gold.
I don't believe they knew
that I was Long John Silver.
Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back) --
stole it from a snow man.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Wond'ring Aloud
Wond'ring aloud --
how we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset --
my hands in her hair.
We are our own saviours
as we start both our hearts beating life
into each other.
Wond'ring aloud --
will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
I'm tasting the smell
of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
and I shake my head.
And it's only the giving
that makes you what you are.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Up To Me
Take you to the cinema
and leave you in a Wimpy Bar --
you tell me that we've gone to far --
come running up to me.
Make the scene at Cousin Jack's --
leave him put the bottles back --
mends his glasses that I cracked --
well that one's up to me.
Buy a silver cloud to ride --
pack the tennis club inside --
trouser cuffs hung far too wide --
well it was up to me.
Tyres down on your bicicle --
your nose feels like an icicle --
the yellow fingered smoky girl
is looking up to me.
Well I'm a common working man
with a half of bitter -- bread and jam
and if it pleases me I'll put one on you man --
when the copper fades away.
The rainy season comes to pass --
the day-glo pirate sinks at last --
and if I laughed a bit to fast.
Well it was up to me.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
My God
People -- what have you done --
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion --
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing --
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything --
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England --
in chains of history --
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who --
with His plastic crucifix --
he's got him fixed --
confuses me as to who and where and why --
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin --
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Hymn 43
Oh father high in heaven -- smile down upon your son
whose busy with his money games -- his women and his gun.
Oh Jesus save me!
And the unsung Western hero killed an Indian or three
and made his name in Hollywood
to set the white man free.
Oh Jesus save me!
If Jesus saves -- well, He'd better save Himself
from the gory glory seekers who use His name in death.
Oh Jesus save me!
I saw him in the city and on the mountains of the moon --
His cross was rather bloody --
He could hardly roll His stone.
Oh Jesus save me!
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Slipstream
Well the lush separation unfolds you --
and the products of wealth
push you along on the bow wave
of the spiritless undying selves.
And you press on God's waiter your last dime --
as he hands you the bill.
And you spin in the slipstream --
timeless -- unreasoning --
paddle right out of the mess.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Locomotive Breath
In the shuffling madess
of the locomotive breath,
runs the all-time loser,
headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping --
steam breaking on his brow --
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going --
no way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off
at the stations -- one by one.
His woman and his best friend --
in bed and having fun.
He's crawling down the corridor
on his hands and knees --
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going --
no way to slow down.
He hears the silence howling --
catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner
has got him by the balls.
He picks up Gideons Bible --
open at page one --
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going --
no way to slow down.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Wind Up
When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
AQUALUNG
'T` n the beginning Man created God; 5 And these lesser men were cast into the
| and in the image of Man void; And some were burned, and some were
,|, created he him. put apart from their kind.
2 And Man gave unto God a multitude of 6 And Man became the God that he had
names,that he might be Lord of all created and with his miracles did
the earth when it was suited to Man. rule over all the earth.
3 And on the seven millionth 7 But as all these things
day Man rested and did lean came to pass, the Spirit that did
heavily on his God and saw that cause man to create his God
it was good. lived on within all men: even
within Aqualung.
4 And Man formed Aqualung of
the dust of the ground, and a 8 And man saw it not.
host of others likened unto his kind.
9 But for Christ's sake he'd
better start looking.
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Locohawa
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Jethro Tull é o que há! \o/
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Locohawa
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
adnz
Esse CD é show demais :)
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Locohawa
eu tirei aqualung o/
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Locohawa
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
adnz
Você toca teclado né?
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bocao
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Thick As A Brick
Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction
the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play
as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today -- and you
shake your head and
say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
See there! A son is born -- and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself inthe night.
We'll
make a man of him
put him to trade
teach him
to play Monopoly and
to sing in the rain.
The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water --
as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other --
as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.
The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling --
but the master of the house is far away.
The horses stamping -- their warm breath clouding
in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash themall aside.
The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:
the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.
The young men of the household have
all gone into service and
are not to be expected for a year.
The innocent young master -- thoughts moving ever faster --
has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.
And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him tothe run.
What do you do when
the old man's gone -- do you want to be him? And
your real self sings the song.
Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam --
and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.
LATER.
I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
So come on all you criminals!
I've got to put you straight just like I did with my old man --
twenty years too late.
Your bread and water's going cold.
Your hair is too short and neat.
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.
You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone -- you meetthe stares.
You're unaware that your doings aren't done.
And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
your rings upon your fingers and
your downy little sidies and
your silver-buckle shoes.
Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of thecomic-paper idol
who lets you bend the rules.
So!
Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super crooks
and show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament. Won't you?
Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first inline.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are --
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him lastSaturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall --
writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual.
LATER.
See there! A man born -- and we pronounce him fit for peace.
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery ofhis disease.
We'll
take the child from him
put it to the test
teach it
to be a wise man
how to fool the rest.
QUOTE
We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearingnylons
cats are on the upgrade
upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.
LATER
In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
I take my place with the lord of the hills.
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neatlittle rows)
sporting canvas frills.
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
Saying -- how's your granny and
good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.
The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled
in the seagull's call.
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist'sfall.
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
and signal for the crack of dawn.
Light the sun.
Do you believe in the day? Do you?
Believe in the day! The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night -- and fully pregnantwith the day,
wise men endorse the poet's sight.
Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day!
Let me tell you the tales of your life of
your love and the cut of the knife
the tireless oppression
the wisdom instilled
the desire to kill or be killed.
Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last busgoes by.
The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red -- while the fool
toasts his god in the sky.
So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in ahellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father arefed
with
the blood of the fools and
the thoughts of the wise and
from the pan under your bed.
Let me make you a present of song as
the wise man breaks wind and is gone while
the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and
the nursery rhyme winds along.
So! Come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in ahellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
and the hour of judgement draweth near.
Would you be
the fool stood in his suit of armour or
the wiser man who rushes clear.
So! Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super-crooks and
show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament.
Won't you? Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him lastSaturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall -- writing up theirmemoirs
for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.
OF COURSE
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Locohawa
sim
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Locohawa
Veterano |
# ago/05 · Editado por: Locohawa
· votar
Faltou uma letra, aqui vai ela:
Bouree
[Instrumental]
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Locohawa
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
adnz
Tirou o Cd inteiro é? :O
hehehe :P
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Locohawa
ahiahiah, só a faixa-título mesmo, mas o album inteiro nao deve ser dificil tirar
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adnz
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
a mais difícil acho que é locomotive breath
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gui_l
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Eu tô ouvindo thick as a brick...
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gui_l
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Ainda aqui:
I've got to put you straight just like I did with my old man --
twenty years too late.
|
gui_l
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Eita...
Esse baterista é fodônico!!!
|
stratopeido
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
adnz
aproved by stratopeido
[Spoken:]
This is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles.
Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching. Sitting on a fence one day,
he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close by. Now this may not
seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo whisper to no one in
particular, "The hare has lost his spectacles,'' well, he began to wonder.
Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and there, lying on the grass
was hare. In the stream that flowed by the grass a newt. And sitting astride a
twig of a bush a bee. Ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with
excitement, for without his spectacles he was completely helpless. Where were
his spectacles? Could someone have stolen them? Had he mislaid them? What
was he to do? Bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer began:
"You probably ate them thinking they were a carrot.'' "No!'' interrupted Owl,
who was wise. "I have good eye-sight, insight, and foresight. How could an
intelligent hare make such a silly mistake?'' But all this time, Owl had been
sitting on the fence, scowling! Kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk.
She thought herself far superior in intelligence to the others. She was their leader,
their guru. She had the answer: "Hare, you must go in search of the optician.''
But then she realized that Hare was completely helpless without his spectacles.
And so, Kangaroo loudly proclaimed, "I can't send Hare in search of anything!''
"You can guru, you can!'' shouted Newt. "You can send him with Owl.'' But Owl
had gone to sleep. Newt knew too much to be stopped by so small a problem
"You can take him in your pouch.'' But alas, Hare was much too big to fit into
Kangaroo's pouch. All this time, it had been quite plain to hare that the others
knew nothing about spectacles.
[Sung:] As for all their tempting ideas, well Hare didn't care. The lost spectacles were
his own affair. And after all, Hare did have a spare a-pair. A-pair.
|
Beneath The Remains
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Messiah's Abomination
Abyssal blasts of raging profanation
unburying the essence of perpetual revelation
angel of aberration enslaved into submission
banished from the fallen mortifying faith
hear the nailed Christ sorrowful screams
as the holy wounds hurt and bleed
pestilent infestation towards retribution
as the dying earth agonizes
and pervades the horrors of holocaust
accursed epitome of the emptiness of god
fallen scriptures denounces deceit
baptismal of destroyed sacrament
high priests spewing blood transgressing the signs of holiness
raging plague entombs the church of Christ
chaos summoning into the eternal night
black earth emplagued by the obscured skies
baneful storms chaotic winds blow
an evil blast proclaim extermination of sacred domain
abyssal gates of raging profanation
unburying the essence of perpetual revelation
angel of aberration ensalved into submission
banished from the fallen mortifying faith
hear the nailed Christ sorrowful screams
as the holy wounds hurt and bleed
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stratopeido
Veterano |
# ago/05 · Editado por: stratopeido
· votar
Messiah's Abomination
Abyssal blasts of raging profanation
unburying the essence of perpetual revelation
angel of aberration enslaved into submission
banished from the fallen mortifying faith
hear the nailed Christ sorrowful screams
as the holy wounds hurt and bleed
pestilent infestation towards retribution
as the dying earth agonizes
and pervades the horrors of holocaust
accursed epitome of the emptiness of god
fallen scriptures denounces deceit
baptismal of destroyed sacrament
high priests spewing blood transgressing the signs of holiness
raging plague entombs the church of Christ
chaos summoning into the eternal night
black earth emplagued by the obscured skies
baneful storms chaotic winds blow
an evil blast proclaim extermination of sacred domain
abyssal gates of raging profanation
unburying the essence of perpetual revelation
angel of aberration ensalved into submission
banished from the fallen mortifying faith
hear the nailed Christ sorrowful screams
as the holy wounds hurt and bleed
éca, isso aqui e capaz d infectar o nobre topico sobre jethro tull, com certeza q se sir ian anderson estivesse presente, ele abominaria essa letra morbit fetida
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Beneath The Remains
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
éca, isso aqui e capaz d infectar o nobre topico sobre jethro tull, com certeza q se sir ian anderson estivesse presente, ele abominaria essa letra morbit fetida
hahahahaha, sei lá cara, postei a toa, eu não entendo isso de ficarem criando tópicos sem sentido onde só vão postando letras sem nem citar a autoria/banda as quais pertencem as mesmas, resolvi só "contribuir" pra inutilidade.
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stratopeido
Veterano |
# ago/05
· votar
Beneath The Remains
a banda chama-se jethro tull, é a melhor banda do mundo. dispensa comentarios... se quiser se informar sobre ela tem esses sites aqui
www.jtull.com
www.cupofwonder.com
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