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no kinks review would be complete without this one lol…
They seek him here, they seek him there,
His clothes are loud, but never square.
It will make or break him so he’s got to buy the best,
‘Cause he’s a dedicated follower of fashion.And when he does his little rounds,
‘Round the boutiques of London Town,
Eagerly pursuing all the latest fads and trends,
‘Cause he’s a dedicated follower of fashion.Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
He thinks he is a flower to be looked at,
And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight,
He feels a dedicated follower of fashion.Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
There’s one thing that he loves and that is flattery.
One week he’s in polka-dots, the next week he is in stripes.
‘Cause he’s a dedicated follower of fashion.They seek him here, they seek him there,
In Regent Street and Leicester Square.
Everywhere the Carnabetian army marches on,
Each one an dedicated follower of fashion.Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
His world is built ’round discoteques and parties.
This pleasure-seeking individual always looks his best
‘Cause he’s a dedicated follower of fashion.Oh yes he is (oh yes he is), oh yes he is (oh yes he is).
He flits from shop to shop just like a butterfly.
In matters of the cloth he is as fickle as can be,
‘Cause he’s a dedicated follower of fashion.
He’s a dedicated follower of fashion.
He’s a dedicated follower of fashion.Lyrics:
There’s a crack up in the ceiling,
And the kitchen sink is leaking.
Out of work and got no money,
A Sunday joint of bread and honey.What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No money coming in,
The rent collector’s knocking, trying to get in.We are strictly second class,
We don’t understand,
(Dead end!)
Why we should be on dead end street.
(Dead end!)
People are living on dead end street.
(Dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)On a cold and frosty morning,
Wipe my eyes and stop me yawning.
And my feet are nearly frozen,
Boil the tea and put some toast on.What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No chance to emigrate,
I’m deep in debt and now it’s much too late.We both want to work so hard,
We can’t get the chance,
(Dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(Dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(Dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)(Dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(Dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(Dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Head to my feet (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
How’s it feel? (yeah)
How’s it feel? (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)this ones just for toybulldog….. :wink:
The tax mans taken all my dough,
And left me in my stately home,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
And I cant sail my yacht,
Hes taken everything Ive got,
All Ive gots this sunny afternoon.Save me, save me, save me from this squeeze.
I got a big fat mama trying to break me.
And I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertimeMy girlfriends run off with my car,
And gone back to her ma and pa,
Telling tales of drunkenness and cruelty.
Now Im sitting here,
Sipping at my ice cold beer,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.Help me, help me, help me sail away,
Well give me two good reasons why I oughta stay.
cause I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertimeAh, save me, save me, save me from this squeeze.
I got a big fat mama trying to break me.
And I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertime@~Pebbles~ wrote:
well its been an experience finding this place to say the least. I’ve met all sorts of people, funny, fiesty, sweet, and down right nasty…i wont name names (at this stage :lol: ) you know which category you fit into :wink: but if you want clarification, feel free to ask 8) Still, i think its what makes the place what it is and keeps it interesting, strike one of those characters off and it wouldnt be the same. At the end of the day, its all banter. Occassionally (ok, quite frequently) someone jabs below the belt, but most of the time its just a laugh. Its not a place for the light hearted, saw caths bit about being upset and thought sh.it hope it wasnt me who upset her ( if ive ever said anythin mean cath im sorry :oops: im only playing)..and doa, lay off her in future ok, or else :twisted: :wink:
lol pebbles im not the pushover i woz and no u have never upset me lol xxxxx many people on here have some real special qualities and many people have the same insecurties too that many have , the secret is i guess is not to wear ur heart on ur sleeve but hey thats nto a crime either is it ??? i will stay true to myself pebbles , i will be me , i will continue to post stuff and some i have second thoughts about i will delete lol , i will be the same old squish squeezy marshmallow that i am ……… we all different but i believe ultimately most people have good hearts and are just funny lil hooman beings lol xxxxxxx
THE WORLDS NEED
Ella Wheeler WilcoxO many gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.The House with Nobody in it
a poem by Joyce KilmerWhenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I’ve passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn’t haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn’t be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I’d put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I’d buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I’d find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there’s nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby’s laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it’s left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can’t help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heartWhen i first found just chat it was a breath of fresh air, i had been going through a real bad patch and was off sick due to bullying at work…… lol i took everything to heart in the beginning, and plastic keyboard gangstas soon found the chink in my armour and used it to belittle , embarass and humiliate. I reached a point at one time where i would be leaving the chat room or boards in tears everytime i logged in!!
However, i have grown, i have learned that people are people, i have learned its not all about me!! its about a wide variety of people who use this place for whatever reason. I have met a handful of very very trusted freinds, there are other people i respect too… for various reasons, some i am on nodding terms with, some i know if i was in real trouble would be there for me and i for them, some who are just shallow. help and support has come from the most unexpected people and I thank them for that.. i have gotten involved where angels fear to tread…
overall this place has given me the opportunity to meet people i wouldnt otherwise have met and I am a firm beleiver people cross our paths for all sorts of reasons even if its not clear at the time…….. so for me its enriched my life
News From the Edge of the World
Winter again, and drops of ice
crystallizing on barren branches,
no sun for days, the light lingers indigo,
snow squalls that flurry and quitcrystallizing on barren branches,
these emphatic pointers to time’s passage
snow squalls that flurry and quit –
How do I know where I am?These emphatic pointers to time’s passage
moments in a life, increments and indictments –
how do I know where I am?
I live at the edge of the world.Moments in a life, increments and indictments,
dogs drag bones down from the woods,
I live at the edge of the world;
the yard is littered with shards.Dogs drag bones down from the woods,
frozen scaffolding, parts without meaning.
The yard is littered with shards:
the thigh, the shin, the scapula,frozen scaffolding, parts without meaning.
Which is more real, memory or invention?
the thigh, the shin, the scapula,
I claim it; it is all me.Which is more real, memory or invention?
Winter again, and drops of ice. . .
I claim it; it is all me –
crystallizing on barren branches,
no sun for days, the light lingers indigo.***
by Bonnie Proudfoot
High Wire
The high-wire artist risks his life
to please the crowd, for fame,
the thrill of danger, and the pleasure
of performing feats that few can do.
We risk our lives, and souls,
for motives much the same, plus
the heady feel of being next to power,
even wielding some ourselves.
We take as many casualties, maybe more.
The names of those who die,
in gold and silver, are posted on the
press club wall. Others we carry
quietly, or just ignore until
they are encountered in the bar–
burned-out relics of too many wars.
You see, you cannot go on bathing
in the world’s violence unscathed,
touch so many people’s pain and grief
and not be burned. Tell me you could
look into a hundred children’s eyes,
dark, huge with uncomprehending
pain and hunger, and purge yourself
of all you feel in a thousand words or so.
So we grow our shells. Those who can’t
don’t last. Some grow them all too well–
the cynical, abrasive ones who
cannot feel. Perhaps they never could.
They count their coups in front-page
headlines, and pay in other ways.
Most of us just try to keep our balance,
like the man up on the wire,
eyes fixed straight ahead,
never daring to look down.by Terry Anderson
