this is fyf

Lyricism - "Can You Feel It?", The Jackson Five, 1980

Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?

If you look around
The whole world's coming together now.  Yeah.
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Feel it in the air.
The wind is taking it everywhere.  Yeah.
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?

All the brothers of the world should be
Lovin' each other wholeheartedly.
Yes it's alright; take my message to your brother and tell him twice.  Uh huh. 
Spread the word who tried to teach the man who is hatin' his brother.
When hate won't do
'cause we're all the same. 
Yes the blood inside of me is inside of you.  C'mon.

Now tell me!
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Can you see what's going down?  You can feel it in your bones

Every breath you take,
Is someone's death in another place.  Yeah.
Every healthy smile
Is hunger and strife to another child.  Yeah.
But the stars do shine
And promising salvation is near this time. Yeah yeah.
Can you feel it now?
So brothers and sisters
Shall we know how.

Now tell me!
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Can you see what's going down?  You can feel it in your bones.

All the children of the world should be 
Lovin' each other wholeheartedly.
Yes, it's alright;
Take my message to your brother and tell him twice.  Uh huh.
Take the news to the marchin' men
Who are killin' their brothers, when death won't do.  No no.
Yes, we're all the same; 
Yes, the blood inside my veins is inside of you.  Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah. 

Now tell me!
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it? 
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?  Can you feel it?  Can you feel it? 

Lyricism - "The Pussycat Song", Asylum Street Spankers, 2005

My Pussycat was scratching at my back door.
He scratched so hard, poor pussy got sore.
Sore pussy.  Sore pussy.  Just a friendly little cat.

My pussycat was sitting out on the front step.
It started to rain, and my pussy got wet.
Wet pussy.  Sore, wet pussy.  Just a friendly little cat.

My Pussycat was playing out in the back lot.
Played so hard, poor pussy got hot.
Hot pussy.  Sore, wet, hot pussy.  Just a friendly little cat.  

I left my whiskey bottle out last night.
My pussycat drank it, and it got real tight.
Tight pussy.  Sore, wet, hot, tight, pussy.  Just a friendly little cat.

My Pussycat was rockin in the rockin chair.
He rocked so hard, he lost his hair.
Bald pussy.  Sore, wet, hot, tight, bald pussy.  Just a friendly little cat.

My neighbors stole my kitty cat away from me.
I told my neighbors to set my pussy cat free.
Free pussy.  Sore, wet, hot, tight, bald, free pussy.  Just a friendly little cat.

Lyricism - "Bloody Mary Morning", Willie Nelson, 1974

Oh, wow. Thanksgiving recovery required sleeping fourteen hours. Top news upon my awakening: Mister Willie Nelson has been arrested for marijuana possession at 77 years of age. (Reminder, the proprietors of this here site are a little bit cuntry.) Anyway, inspired by this poet that keeps on tokin', I'm meeting up with buds for unlimited Bloody Mary's at Yerba Buena! You should too!

Bringing it full circle, here's a classic country-poem, by Mister Nelson with lyrics that might ring very clear to you, friend, if you've ever known heartache, questioned your city living, or just really needed a Bloody Mary.

It's a Bloody Mary morning,
Baby left me without warning
Sometime in the night
So I'm flyin' down to Houston
Forgetting her's the nature of my flight

As we taxi toward the runway
With the smog and haze
Reminding me of how I feel
Just a country boy who's learnin'
That the pitfalls of the city
Are extremely real

All the night life and the parties
And temptation and deceit
The order of the day
Well it's a Bloody Mary mornin'
Cause I'm leavin' baby somewhere in LA
It's a Bloody Mary morning...

Our golden jet is airborn
And flight Fifty cuts a path
Across the mornin' sky
And a voice comes on the speaker
Reassuring us flight Fifty
Is the way to fly

And a hostess takes our order
Coffee tea or something stronger
To start off the day
Well it's a Bloody Mary morning
Cause I'm leavin' baby somewhere in LA
It's a bloody mary morning...

Lyricism - "Hustling", Trina, 2002

[Girl Talking:]
Hello to all niggas and bitches.
Welcome to Diggler's Wild World of Girls.
I'm sitting here with the Baddest Bitch. (That's right.)
So, Trina, tell us a little something about yourself.

[Trina]
Hustla. I'm the queen of this south shit.
Tight with a cute face that's what I'm 'bout, bitch.
Sexy, specialize in fellatio.
All about my pesos,
Never was a fake hoe,
Shot shore throw throw the cock like a flame thrower,
In the mouth of a cock blower.
Just a diva,
Mack momma looking for them ends,
Traded in the Lex for a G-5 Benz,
Touring on the road getting stacks,
20 grand karats for the show no tax.
Bell-V is what I'm pourin' on them hatahs.
Blinding with the lock no imitators,
Broke ass niggas getting on my nerves.
Get sliced, diced, chopped, and served.
Ask am I off the chain; 
I won't lie,
But I don't want your man, boo.  Fuck that guy. Huh.

[Girl Talking:]
Oh, okay.  Alright.
I see how y'all be getting down in the MIA,
But Trina what I really wanna know is 
how would you get with a nigga who live with a bitch?

Lyricism - "The Last of the Famous International Playboys", Morrissey, 1989

Dear hero imprisoned
With all the new crimes that you are perfecting
Oh, I can't help quoting you
Because everything that you said rings true
And now in my cell
(Well, I followed you)
And here's a list of who I slew

Reggie Kray - do you know my name ?
Oh, don't say you don't
Please say you do, (oh) I am :

The last of the famous International playboys
The last of the famous
International playboys
And in my cell
(Well, I loved you)
And every man with a job to do
Ronnie Kray - do you know my face ?
Oh, don't say you don't
Please say you do, (oh) I am :

The last of the famous
International playboys
The last of the famous
International playboys

In our lifetime those who kill
The newsworld hands them stardom
And these are the ways
On which I was raised
These are the ways
On which I was raised

I never wanted to kill
I am not naturally evil
Such things I do
Just to make myself
More attractive to you
Have I failed?

Oh... .

Oh, the last of the famous
International playboys

Lyricism - "Computer Blue", Prince, 1983

Wendy?
Yes Lisa
Is the water warm enough?
Yes Lisa
Shall we begin?
Yes Lisa
Ow!

Where is my love life?
Where can it be?
There must be something wrong with the machinery

Where is my love life?
Tell me, where has it gone?
Somebody please please tell me what the hell is wrong

Till I find the righteous one
Computer blue
Till I find the righteous one
Computer blue

Oh
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!

Lyricism - "This Land Is Your Land", Woody Guthrie, 1940

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking that ribbon of highway
I saw above me that endless skyway
I saw below me that golden valley
This land was made for you and me.

I roamed and I rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
While all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
A voice was chanting, As the fog was lifting,
This land was made for you and me.

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

Lyricism - "I Got My Education (Clean Version)", Uncanny Alliance, 1992

Miss Thing, Miss Thing, Miss Thing, Miss Thing.
She had to pawn her diamond ring.
She went on down to Burger King,
And found they were not hiring.

Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.

Been six months since she lost her job
When she called her boss a big fat slob.
She looked and smiled and gave her a wink,
And handed her a slip that was very pink.

Attitude Attitude is all she spent,
Now she can’t afford antiperspirant.
Books and schools just give you the blues,
But, oh dear girl, where are your shoes?

Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.

I know the sidewalk gets very hot,
So next time you should give a little thought
To exactly who it is you’re talking to
‘Cause no one likes a bad attitude.

Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.

Get away with my windshield.
Tryin’ to wash my windows
With that old dirty water.

Rolling your eyes
In the back of your head like you blind;
You know you can see, girl.

Listen, I’ll buy you a sandwich,
But I ain’t givin’ you no money.
You’d probably try and buy crack with it.

You should have listened when your mother told you to get an education.

I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.

Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.

Put your arm in your shirt like you ain’t got no arm.
You better take that arm out that shirt
and fill out a job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.
Job application.

Miss Thing got nowhere to live.
Miss Thing got nowhere to live.

I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.
I got my education.

Lyricism: "Sleep to Dream", Fiona Apple, 1997

I tell you how I feel,
But you don't care.
I say tell me the truth,
But you don't dare.
You say love is a hell,
You cannot bear.
And I say gimme mine
Back and then go there
For all I care.

I got my feet
On the ground
And I don't go to
Sleep to dream
You got your head
In the clouds
And you're not at
All what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be
Stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around
I got my own hell to raise

Lyricism - "You Oughta Know", Alanis Morissette, 1995

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you.
I wish nothing but the best for you both.
An older version of me,
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theatre?
Does she speak eloquently,
And would she have your baby?
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother.

'Cause the love that you gave, that we made, wasn't able
To make it enough for you to be open wide, no.
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
Until you died, till you died?
But you're still alive.

And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away.
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me.
You, you, you oughta know.

You seem very well, things look peaceful.
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know.
Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner.
It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced;
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?

'Cause the love that you gave, that we made, wasn't able
To make it enough for you to be open wide, no.
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
Until you died, till you died?
But you're still alive.

And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away.
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me.
You, you, you oughta know.

'Cause the joke that you laid on the bed that was me.
And I'm not gonna fade
As soon as you close your eyes, and you know it.
And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back
I hope you feel it.  Well can you feel it?

Well, I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away.
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me.
You, you, you oughta know.

Lyricism - "Hot Room", Linda Lamb, 2000

Butterflies coming out of the hot room,
White thighs hanging in fruit of the loom.
My new disguise, I hide away in this cocoon.
Butterflies coming out of the hot room

A plate of meatballs caught on fire.
My inspiration is getting higher.
Pay attention. Did I forget to mention
A plate of meatballs caught on fire?

You see freedom's an idea that cannot be measured.
Am I getting through to what I thought was treasured?
Freedom's an idea that cannot be measured.
Am I getting through to what I thought was treasured?

She danced her dance,
While making soup.
While all around us, The others do.

Back in Moscow it was still illegal.
Her eyes were closed, so that made it better.
Her line was long underneath her sweater.
Back in Moscow, it was still illegal.

You see freedom's an idea that cannot be measured.
Am I getting through to what I thought was treasured?
Freedom's an idea that can not be measured.
Am I getting through to what I thought was treasured?

Lyricism: Sex Dwarf, Soft Cell (1982)

Isn't it nice

Sugar and spice

Luring disco dollies

To a life of vice