PAL

whiskey

und dazu “waves of grain”

Pray betray the deceased,
such an infamous freedom, such a militant peace.
How dare they distrust, do they know who we are?
And Your progeny’s brave,
their tract houses waiting, pre-plucked and pre-paved:
To the ends of the Earth, wife, kids and a car.

But oh no, no, I see them falling.
Let’s all pray for rain, Let’s all pray for rain.
And all your children are reared by panic and fear.
But what when all your fields are rotten,
your waves of grain, amber waves of grain?
And your word is yet done: Inbreed us ’till we’re all the same.

And Your collection of tongues,
you keep framed in your parlour, with your bibles and guns,
the fetus of Christ with a fistful of scars.
And your vision is clear,
while you blind your own kind in a curtain of fear,
your words twisted skywards distracted by stars.

But oh, no, no, the sky is falling.
Let’s all pray for rain, Let’s all pray for rain.
And you pour out your prayers and weep ‘cuase you care.
But what when all your fields are rotten,
your waves of grain, amber waves of grain?
And you hide the dead while my friends head to die in your name.

And This playground is yours
spoke God when you met, behind closed doors.
Gesture your hand and the pawns shall subside
And though you play alone,
you never get lonely, you never get bored.
Who needs a friend when God’s on your side?

But oh, no, no, I see them falling.
Let’s all pray for rain, Let’s all pray for rain.
And even I can’t pretend we’re not near the end.
But what when all your fields are rotten,
your waves of grain, amber waves of grain?
When your days are done, I hope you’ve had fun with your game.

And you accepted as fact:
Behold a white horse, with you on it’s back,
a bow in your hand, a crown through your hair.
And the oceans shall rise
and slap on the shores of mountainsides.
Great waves of progress shall wet the air.

But oh, no, no, the sky is falling.
Let’s all pray for rain, Let’s all pray for rain.
And you fools in the back with your heads in your hats,
What when all your fields are rotten,
your waves of grain, amber waves of grain?
And my words won’t be done, they’ll never be done ’till the end.

money left to burn

1 “Nightsongs [US-Import]”
Stars; CD;

1 “Heart”
Stars; CD;

1 “American 3-Solitary Man”
Johnny Cash; CD;

1 “Fishscale”
Ghostface Killah; CD;

1 “Keine Lieder über Liebe”
Florian Lukas; DVD;

1 “Personal Files”
Johnny Cash; CD;

1 “Aufstand im Schlaraffenland”
Deichkind; CD;

1 “Walk the line (Special Edition, 2 DVDs)”
Joaquin Phoenix; DVD;

1 “Bending the Willow”
Sometree; CD;

irgendwo muss das geld ja hin, nicht dass es schlecht wird…

Bob Dylan

65 schon..

Morrisey

47 wird der gute…

vollkommen logisch

das Wetter heute verlangt einfach nach einem Hut!

Wieder Bilder

am Wochenende viele Bilder gemacht und wieder eines dabei mit dem ich wirklich zufrieden bin

Makro

mal ein wenig rumgespielt… naja

Pi

Pi & taktlo$$ morgen Backstage, und ratet mal wer auf der Gaesteliste steht….yeeeehaaaa

time for heroes

Did you see the stylish kids in the riot
We were shovelled up like muck
Set the night on fire
Wombles bleed truncheons and shields
You know I cherish you my love

But there’s a rumour spread nasty disease around town
Caught round the houses with your trousers down
A headrush in the bush
You know I cherish you my love
Oh how i cherish you my love

Tell me what can you want now you’ve got it all
The whole scene is obscene
Time will strip it away
A year and a day
And Bill Bones
Bill Bones knows what I mean
He knows it’s eating, it’s chewing me up
It’s not right for young lungs to be coughing up blood
Oh it’s all
It’s all in my hands
And its all up the walls

Well the stale chips are up and the hopes stakes are down
Its these ignorant faces that bring this town down
Yeah I sighed and sunken with pride
I passed myself down on my knees
Yes I passed myself down on my knees

Now tell me what can you want now you’ve got it all
The whole scene is obscene
Time will strip it away
A year and a day
And Bill Bones
Bill Bones knows what I mean
There are fewer more distressing sights than that
Of an Englishman in a baseball cap
Yeah we’ll die in the class we were born
That’s a class of our own my love
A class of our own my love

Did you see the stylish kids in the riot
We were shovelled up like muck
Then set the night on fire
Wombles bleed truncheons and shields
You know I cherish you my love
Oh how I cherish you my love.

Posting von Peter zu den sog Babyshambles Sessions 2003