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you know its really kindof sad that we are bringing in the next era a mankind with war. you’d think we could be past this **** by now… Personally, there is not a cell in my body that wishes another person harm - and i dont understand how there can be so many of us who do.

**** you Mr. Bush. I hope your a beginner flash designer in your spare time and you are reading this.

Perhaps you are still a Texas Neandrothol and havent taken any steps up the evolutionary ladder, but the rest of us have.

We should be rioting in the streets… but,… i guess rioting in a message forum would do.

breaks a window

::Stands beside Sheep, head down, eyes watery::

I have no more words my friend. I’ve used them all. For better or worse, we move into an uncertain future.

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

“Fools” said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.”
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.”
And whisper’d in the sounds of silence.

Paul Simon, 1964

Yes.

hmm yeah, rioting is a much better way to start off the millenium

LETS TEAR IT UP!

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, ‘n’ how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, ‘n’ how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they’re forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind,
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, ‘n’ how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, ‘n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind,
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it’s washed to the sea?
Yes, ‘n’ how many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free?
Yes, ‘n’ how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind,
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

Bob Dylan 1962

“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief,
“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.”

“No reason to get excited,” the thief, he kindly spoke,
“There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.”

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

Bob Dylan 1968

love that song…

very few know it was actually writen by Dylan. (though even I’ll admit that Hendrix version was the best.)

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways,
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard,
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it,
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’,
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’,
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’,
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’,
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’,
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’,
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’,
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’,
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’,
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Bob Dylan 1963

I knew it was written by Dylan. ANd Hendrix Version is good but I personally feel that the best version of that song (lyrically) put out was the Dave Matthews Version from their Live in Chicago CD.

Hear me out on this. Hendrix was amazing on guitar and he will forever be one of the most amazing guitarists ever. Along with Eric Clapton, Santana, and Tim Reynolds. But all of the versions I have heard from Hendrix sound like he is spitting out the lyrics like a Turrets patient. Musically his version surpasses the others, but the whole point of that song is the lyrics. That is why I think that the DMB version is the best. Check it out… but if you get it make sure its the Chicago version… its the absolute best… :slight_smile:

Hey… np… I hadn’t head that version… and as a fan of Dave Mathew’s I should have. I’m definetly going to look for it.

I just meant that I don’t hold Dylan’s vocals in any high regard… just his l33t song writing skillz.

Dylans voice kills me. His looks even more so. He is one scary scary man. His son is a pretty attractive male tho… wonder how that happened! :slight_smile:

Yes, his writing skills were amazing. His voice make my brain hurt :slight_smile:

S & G rocked. Sure, they were nothing more than depressed jews who made depressing songs about their depressing lives…

roflmao. Thanks Phill. I needed a laugh right now. You’re on the mark with that one.

That’s my favorite verse from that song too. :slight_smile:

http://www.ten-years-after.com/_private/lyrics.htm#50

that was all I could find Phil, but that song isn’t there… if you’ve got the date correct. I did a search through them all for 2125 and found nothing. :frowning: but I tried. :slight_smile:

Jubba - just take a look at Bob Dylan when he was 18 and you’ll know why Jacob looks the way he does. (sad thing is, you KNOW jacob will end up looking like Bob does now.:wink: )

Sheep - sorry for misleading this thread. I just meant to post some old songs that had important messages for yesterday and today. :slight_smile:

Got it!!!

http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/SongUnid/B579F77E6AA8AF4148256C13000E77FB

if david needs a laugh, he oughta get a song that is… funny.

I admit I hated it the first time I listened to it. Not very good sounding… but it’s rediculously funny if you give it a second chance.

“Obey The Cow God” - Jelly… or Jello… I think Jelly.

Well David…this post has got yoru name written all over…hahaha.

I must say I didn’t know you were such a music buff. :cool:

How does he do it? How do they do it? Uncanny and immutable.
This is such a happening tailpipe of a party.
Like sugar, the guests are so refined.
A confidence man but why so beleagued?
He’s not a leader he’s a Texas leaguer.
Swinging for the fence. Got lucky with a strike.
Drilling for fear makes the job simple.
Born on third. Thinks he got a triple.

Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way.

I remember when you sang that song about today.
Now it’s tomorrow and everything has changed.

A think tank of aloof multiplication.
A nicotine wish and a columbus decanter.
Retrenchment and hoggishness.
The aristocrat choir sings, “What’s the ruckus?”
The haves have not a clue.
The immenseness of suffering.
And the odd negotiation. A rarity.
With onionskin plausibility of life.
And a keyboard reaffirmation.

Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way.

I remember when you sang that song about today.
Now it’s tomorrow and everything has changed.

Pearl Jam - BUSHleaguer