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Kinks lyrics - Sleepwalker

Prince Of The Punks

Original and similar lyrics
A well known groover, rock 'n' roll user, Wanted to be a star. But he failed the blues, and he's back to loser, Playing folk in a country bar. Reggae music didn't seem to satisfy his needs. He couldn't handle modern jazz, 'Cause they play it in difficult keys. But now he's found a music he can call his own, Some people call it junk, but he don't care, He's found a home. He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it, Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated. He acts working class but it's all bologna, He's really middle class and he's just a phony. He acts tough but it's just a front, He's the prince of the punks. He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it, Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated. He tried to be gay, but it didn't pay, So he bought a motorbike instead. He failed at funk, so he became a punk, 'Cause he thought he'd make a little more bread. He's been through all of the changes, From rock opera to Mantovani. Now he wears a swastika band And leather boots up past his knees. He's much too old for twenty-eight, But he thinks he's seventeen, He thinks he's a stud, But I think he looks more like a queen. He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it, Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated. He talks like a Cockney but it's all bologna, He's really middle class and he's just a phony. He acts tough but it's just a front. He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it, Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated. He acts working class but it's all bologna, He's really middle class and he's just a phony. He acts tough but it's just a front, He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it, Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated. He acts working class but it's all bologna, He's really middle class and he's just a phony. He acts tough but it's just a front, He's the prince of the punks.

Wanna Be

Home Grown "That's Business"
Here's a story about a girl who thinks she's so fuckin cool. The dumb bitch don't make much sense, she tries to be different. When a band becomes a trend she acts like she's the biggest fan. She's just a spoiled bitch, her dad is so filthy rich. Dont ask me why I think you're lame. You and your friends all dress the same. Your tiny tits don't smuther me. You're just a fucking wanna-be. She's is an anti-prep, she thinks she's alternative. She just wants to fit in by smoking her cigarettes. She's always talking shit because she is a six foot bitch. When a band becomes a trend, she acts like she's the biggest fan. You're not punk, you're not ska, you try to be something you're not... You're not grunge, you're not rock, you try to be something you're not.

Inside Susan

PULP "Intro"
Susan catches the bus into town at ten-thirty a.m. She sits on the back seat. She looks at the man in front's head and thinks how his fat wrinkled neck is like a large carrot sticking out from the collar of his shirt. She adds up the numbers on her bus ticket to see if they make twenty-one, but they don't. Maybe she shouldn't bother going to school at all, then. Her friends will be in the yard with their arms folded on their chests, shielding their breasts to try and make them look bigger, whilst the boys will be too busy playing football to notice. The bus is waiting on the High Street when suddenly it begins to rain torrentially and it sounds like someone has emptied about a million packets of dried peas on top of the roof of the bus. 'What if it just keeps raining,' she thinks to herself, 'and it was just like being in an aquarium except it was all the shoppers and office-workers that were floating passed the window instead of fish' She's still thinking about this when the bus goes passed Caroline Lee's house where there was a party last week. There were some German exchange students there who were very mature; they all ended up jumping out of the bedroom window. One of them tried to get her to kiss him on the stairs, so she kicked him. Later she was sick because she drunk too much cider. Caroline was drunk as well; she was pretending she was married to a tall boy in glasses, and she had to wear a polo-neck for three days afterwards to cover up the love-bite on her neck. By now the bus is going passed the market. Outside is a man who spends all day forcing felt-tip pens into people's hands and then trying to make them pay for them. She used to work in the pet shop, but she got sacked for talking to boys when she was supposed to be working. She wasn't too bothered though, she hated the smell of the rabbits anyway. 'Maybe this bus won't stop,' she thinks, 'and I'll stay on it until I'm old enough to go into pubs on my own. Or it could drive me to a town where people with black hair drink Special Brew and I can make lots of money by charging fat old men five pounds a time to look up my skirt. Oh, they'll be queuing up to take me out to dinner... ' I suppose you think she's just a silly girl with stupid ideas, but I remember her in those days. They talk about people with a fire within and all that stuff, well, she had that alright. It's just that no-one dared to jump into her fire; they would have been consumed. Instead, they put her in a corner and let her heat up the room, warming their hands and backsides in front of her, and then slagging her off around town. No-one ever really got inside Susan, and, and, she always ended up getting off the bus at the terminus and then walking home.

Jack Shit George

Ian Dury And The Blockheads
What did you learn at school today? Jack shit The minute the teacher turns away That's it How many times were you truly intrigued? Not any Is boredom a symptom of mental fatigue? Not many When have you ever been top of the class? Not once What will you do when you're out on your arse? A dunce What are your prospects of doing quite well? Too small And what will you have at the very last Bell? Fuck all You can't bear another's beauty, you can't emulate a grace You can't filch another's mystery, occupy another's space You can't do another's duty, or take a special place In another person's history when they've sunk without a trace What's the reward for being a berk? A blank Thick as a plank and looking for work What a wank What do you think of the Welfare State? It's a fake What have they handed you on a plate? The ache Have you considered how lucky you are? Well shucks What do you think of the system so far? It sucks Aren't you endowed with the patience of Job? I wish Don't you feel ready to conquer the globe? Oh fish You can't steal another's thunder, you can't fill a great divide You can't steer another's fancy, you can't change another's side Not undo another's blunder nor pretend another's pride You can't offer necromancy till the final hope has died I'm a second-class person citizen-wise, This is something I must recognise It's not my place to make complaint, But am I happy? No, I ain't I missed my chance when I was young, Now I live below the bottom rung I was put on earth to discover my niche; Oh Lord, won't you make me Nouveau Riche?

Concrete And Clay

Concrete And Clay Now I'ma say this once again open up your mind Shot heard around the world came from our fresh rhymes The contribution to showbiz, mixed with entertainment Resurrected rhymes, not the same old same Now if you like what we came with And you feel you can sang wit it Peep the verbal language and the way we arranged it Now entertainment to make the people applaud I'm not trying to say my style is better than yours I'm from the graduating class of one-nine-eight-eight L.A. Unified School M A H A gangbanger from the streets taught me how to break In South Central L.A., ay yo, can you relate? I'm Chali 2na The one who puff the buddha keep the Snapple in the cooler Used to go to junior high with Son Doola Old skoola - a permanent, element, in ya tournament Tellin it prevalent never delicate when we burnin it Now from L.A. to the U.K. we attempt to rock a party The rhyme and the music you don't hear that no more hardly I can say it's partly, all our faults smarty J5'll bring you more than the shakin of a body Ay yo a child is born but no state of mind But when I first heard it, put words to rhymes I went from hypercars, to powder blue All-Stars To hangin on monkey bars catchin spiders in jelly jars [Chorus: repeat 2X] So uh, let's take it back to the concrete streets Original beats with real live MC's Playground tactics, no rabbit-in-a-hat tricks Just that classic, rappin from Jurassic I bring the noise plus the funk, entertainin like a dunk From a snotty-nosed prima donna millionaire punk But uh, I heard a hunch, that somebody might munch Cause J5 go together just like parties and spiked punch Your crew's captain crunch, and I'm the seven seas Bombin on MC's, crushin crews with ease Brother please you know my steez is 100 degrees With no era bring it live like the Trio of Terror Trio of Terror no mascara, at last your brass surpass pleasure We the last treasure set to entice the cash bearer Mask wearers who bite my reflection like glass mirrors Be trash pickers who need to consider the past clearer Now what you thought was old and out of date We brought it back alive and changed the shape We put it on wax for those who think that The 5 we energize has been extinct [Chorus] We takin it back like battles in hallways and bathrooms And battles in the back of the classroom And in the bungalows game of death with flows Lunchtime rhymes you had to prove and show Never the school type, couldn't pronounce the words right The class jester, I was flunkin every semester The summer hit, had it burnin in '86 Class cuttin and runnin wit all the neighborhood derelicts Within the concrete jungle [huh!] we remain humble Akil and Akir, bounce, flip and tumble Uh, we never fumble, break down or stumble Hot mumbo jumbo, just bring it when we rumble We push it like the Daytona Fresh rhymes we blaze on yas Strictly from California old skool public diplomas We spittin from every corner we flippin it when we wanna Beneath the concrete be street word on ya [Chorus]

Legal Tender

(inspired by the work of Edgar Allen Poe) I. Red Death It was a time when life was short Long devastated was the land Never had there ever been A more fatal plague against all man Pungent pain, sudden faintness Your energy begins to fade As you stand there somewhat daunted You know 'Red Death' is on it's way Blood, blood, blood and more blood Profuse bleeding at the pores You watch your blood slowly sizzle As your flesh dissolves some more Screams of anguish, blood still flowing Pollutes the ground a rotten red Your time has come, you must meet your maker As you slip into the valley of the shadow of death II. The Prince's Master Plan All men feared this great disaster But the valiant Prince had the only answer For his majesty and his chosen ones The inception of new life would free them of contagion Magnificent it was this structure of seclusion Surrounded by these walls so massive yet elusive The gates were welded shut impervious to those forsaken Never letting go of the souls that were taken There was beauty, there was wine Ambrosia and sweet nectar Flowing from within All appliances of pleasure Inside the Master-Plan Providing noble lunacy Outside the palace gates 'Red Death' just sits and waits for you Narration: It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospreo entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence... Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849) III. The Masquerade including the Twelfth Hour and Return of the Red Death Bizzare it was seven chambers Held this jubilee except for one It stood alone, the western wing Where no one shared it's offerings Blood tinted panes, brazier or fire Projects it's rays A clock stands tall, ominous It warns of death so soon to be So loud, so deep the guests pay heed The dissonant ring of ebony The crowd goes pale as darkness Shrouds the maskers in their revelry Then as the echos ceased A light laughter spread through the assembly And all is well Until the next chiming of old ebony The ebony clock struck the twelfth hour And everyting ceased as the revellers cowered The pendulum swings all still, all silent Save the voice of old ebony As the last chime died and sunk into silence Soon it was felt a presence so strange Tall and gaunt who is this masked figure Shrouded in habiliments of the grave? His blood splattered mask bore a striking resemblence The countenance of a rigid corpse He stalked to and fro in a slow, solemn movement Enraging the Duke, invasion of his sanctuary 'Seize him, unmask him, ' commanded the prince 'Who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? You'll hang at sunrise! ' Not a person came forth it seemed like all was lost As the intruder make his way unimpeded An anon he went on trugged through each chamber Where the music once swelled and the dreams lived on and on The prince in pursuit dagger drawn aloft As the figure retreats to the seventh chamber He suddenly turns, a piercing sharp cry Now the Prince lay dead in the hall of the velvet... Then summoning the wild courage of despair, A throng of revellers at once threw themselves Into the black apartment, and seizing the mummer, Whose tall dark figure stood erect and motionless Within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped In unutterable horror at finding the grave Cerements and corpse-like mask, which they Handled with so violent a rudeness, untenated By any tangible form. And now was acknowlegded the presence Of the Red Death. He had come as a thief In the night and one by one droppd the revellers In the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, And died each in the despairing posture of his fall. As the life of the ebony clock went out With that the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness And Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all... Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849)

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