Where is the ritual
And tell me where, where is the taste?
Where is the sacrifice
And tell me where, where is the faith?
Someday there'll be a cure for pain
That's the day I throw my drugs away!
When they find a cure for pain.
Where is the cave
Where the wise woman went?
And tell me where
Where's all that money that I spent?
I propose a toast to my self-control
You see it crawling helpless on the floor
Someday there'll be a cure for pain
That's the day I throw my drugs away.
When they find a cure for pain
When they find a cure for pain
When they find a cure for pain.
(Mark Sandman, RIP)
Monday, August 31
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I am...
Archived Posts
-
▼
2009
(359)
-
▼
August
(28)
- Cure for pain.
- What computer operating systems have you used over...
- Which program do you use PRIMARILY use to listen t...
- Crazy cool band.
- Some questions for GIRLS ONLY =P
- Thank you, Mandula, for the necklace!
- ~My life ain't no holiday.I've been to the point o...
- My mom has a new cat!
- BLUER THAN MIDNIGHT.Save me, save me, save me,Save...
- Usainity.
- Some things about stuff and things.
- The The - Love Is Stronger Than Death
- REM - Swan Swan H
- My Number One Celeb Crush... No Doubt About It.
- S&G
- Covered in lotion today :-|
- Went to a Giants (baseball) game yesterday.
- Brittany, France.
- The Lazy Boy.
- Dark Continents.Peering over the edge of the earth...
- Acting the color of its name for once.
- To survive.At every moment madnessbeckons, it bull...
- Presenting... David Gilmour.
- These bring back lots o' memories.
- Mnemosyne.
- No title
- LIKE A STONE. On a cobweb afternoon in a room full...
- I cannot fathom...
-
▼
August
(28)
2 comments:
Here's the real comment:
Pain and sickness leave us NOW!!!
Empath aka Hans?
Let's do an anti-pain dance (I'll hop) and maybe we can drive away the malevolent spirits within us. I'll call up Brendan Perry and he can play various skinned drums, and we can dance and sing polyrthmically to his beats, like in Jazz or classical counterpoint, riffing off beats early or late on purpose, and playing around within the rhythm, like Miles Davis did with his trumpet, flugelhorn, and piano, constant anticipating where the audience expected the rhythm to go and then changing up on them, but eventually coming back to the 'grace note' which let you exhale. That oughta work.
Post a Comment