No One

Original and similar lyrics
Labors of commitment Blood of his arms A growing sense of duty But in his song he's screaming out Insuficient - he just falls further behind Principles, purpose, tradition, time Weigh heavy on this guilty mind Wits astray Blind in rage, awar he'll wage on grieving Another no one hanging from the ceiling Because only the extreme makes an impression When drowning in the mainstream One at the mercy of another's faith finally answers to no one in his fall from grace They say they love him but how could they ever Miles above him they ask for repent It doesn't matter what you want from me Don't think there's worth in my apology Because people never really change You and I will always be the same and it's a problem that we can't mend because it happened once it will happen again Because they plant their seeds of condition until we have no choice, we lose conviction wits astray Blind in rage a war he'll wage on grieving Another no one blows his head off Because only the extreme makes an impression when drowning in the mainstream no one

Stranded On Death Row

Dr Dre "The Chronic"
(feat. Kurupt, Lady Of Rage, RBX, Snoop Doggy D) [Intro: Bushwick Bill] Yes, it is I says me And although me By morning three, cause they're weak [laughter] Yes, yo!, I'm in the house now for sure Because I wanna talk about the hearts of men Who knows what evil lurks within them But lets take a travel down the blindside And see what we find on this... Path... Called... [Verse One: Kurupt] Stranded on Death Row, so duck when I swing my shit I get rugged like Rawhead Rex with fat tracks that fits The gangsta type, what I recite's kinda lethal Niggaz know, the flow that I kick, there's no refill I'm murderin niggaz, Yo, and maybe because of the tone I kicks my grip, the mic and kick shit Niggaz can't fuck with So remember I go hardcore, and slam Nuff respect like a sensei, ba-bash like Van Damme So any nigga that claim they bossin What don't you bring your ass on over to Crenshaw and Slauson Take a walk through the hood, and we up to no good Slangin on things like a real ho G should, I'm stackin and mackin and packin a ten so When you're slippin, I slip the clip in But ain't no steady tripppin Cause it's Death Row, rollin like the mafia Think about whoopin some ass, but what the fuck stoppin ya Ain't nathin but a buster I'm Stranded on Death Row for pumpin slugs in motherfuckers Now you know you're outdone Feel the shotgun, Korrupt inmate cell block one [Verse Two: RBX] No prevention from this mention of sorts Your're a victim, from my driveby of thoughts No extensions, all attempts are to fail Blinded by the light, it's time you learn braile From the lunatic, I death like arsenic When I kick up wicked raps That the grain will hit the scratch With treachery, my literary form will blast And totally surpass the norm Not a storm, plural, make it, many storms When I'm vexed, I fly leg necks and arms In this dimension, I'm the presenter And the inventor, and the tormentor Deranged, like the hillside strangler MC mangler, tough like Wrangler I write a rhyme, hard as concrete Step to the heat and get burned like mesquite So what you wanna do The narrator RBX, cell block two [Verse Three: Lady of Rage] Rage, lyrical murderer Stranded on Death Row And now I'm servin a lifetime sentence There'll be no repentence Since it's the life that I choose to lead I plead guilty On all counts let the ball bounce where it may It's just another clip into my AK Buck em down with my underground tactics Facts and stacks of clips on my matress Bed frame there's another dead pain Layin lain with the shame, who's to blame Me, the lady of Rage On when I'm comin from the D-E-A-T-H in R-O-W takin, no shit So flip and you're bound to get dropped It's 187 on motherfuckers don't stop Handcuffed as I bust there'll be no debate It's Rage, from cell block eight [Verse Four: Snoop Doggy Dogg] And yo steppin through the fog And creepin through the smog It's the number one nigga from the hood, Doggy Dogg Makin videos, now I stay in Hollywood Bustin raps for my snaps now they call me Eastwood Dre is the doctor and my homey little nigga Warren G is my hand and my hand's on the trigga Shootin at the hoes with the game that I got Sent to death row cause I wanted to make a quick one servin my rocks And I'm still, servin for mines, peace To my motherfuckin homies doin time In the pen and the county jail Mobbin with your blues on, mad as hell And you say yeah fuck the police And all the homies on the streets is all about peace And it's drivin the cops crazy But ain't nuttin but a black thing bay-bee, uhhh No I'm not flaggin, but I'm just saggin I betcha don't wanna see the D-O double G And you can't see, the D-R to the E Or my motherfuckin homey D.O.C. You know you can't fuck with my motherfuckin DJ That's my homey and we call him Warren G Yeah, and you don't stop Doggy Dogg break em down with the motherfuckin Dogg Pound That's the only way we'll beat em man We gotta smoke em, then choke em Like the motherfuckin peter man It's like three and to the two And two and to the one Cell block four peace Doggy Dogg's done [Outtro : Bushwick Bill] Yo, now you know the path I'm on You think you're strong, see if you can travel on Cause only the weak, will try to speak Those who are quiet, will always cause riots There's three types of people in the world Those who don't know what happened Those who wonder what happened And people like us from the streets that MAKE things happen!


Peter Hammill
Flying Blind I alway forget how crazy things are so sometimes it catches me off my guard when they make sense. The line on the road trail the arrow in the sky, I search for the mote in my brother's eye beneath the pence... a time of blunt instruments. Still uncertain when I've woken or what constitutes a conscious mind, though the thought remains unspoken I know I'm flying blind. Breaking into cold sweat on the white-hot coals the pennies from heaven drop through my soul: it don't relent. At the back end of dreams I'm amazed to awake... I offer my theories but just can't shake that seventh sense to which there's no defense. It seemed the time was for action, it seemed so cool to be that kind... my tongue writhed to form some retraction but I knew I was flying blind. I want things to be fast, down to the power-drive; I want the zero-gravity heroes to play dead, but stay alive. We want it to be slow, all the way to stall; we talk about a thousand things that never change at all. No, it never change... It was then that I knew I'd been thoughtless - something had slipped my mind: I'd strapped myself into the Fortress but the Fortress was flying blind. We got full clearance, so someone down there ought to know the truth of our disappearance - If even that still shows it accuses and blames me, but nothing was quite what it seemed. Sometimes things work out so strangely that it might as well all be dreamed. The White Cane Fandango The White Cane Fandango in Morse code, try to shake through the message, shake the load; only venial sin, running on the spot - till the dance begins. Where does a man go when the muscles cramp? Try to write out a postcard on a postage stamp with a drawing pin punching out the Braille for the whole within? Upset the contango on your future stock; paying backwardation, hold onto what you've got - such a sideways grin! Some day you may need to trade that in. If we ride this right the future will fall in our hands. If we survive the flight the future will work out - nothing's that black and white. Control The colour-coded charts are spread, but we're still gliding deep into the red, the radio is dead every valve blown open. The radar screen flicks monochrome, air traffic controller wants to get on home, waiting for a phone call to release him from responsibility. Nobody goes to see him any more except for the man from the ministry. He wanted to be, he wanted to be the man at the helm, in command of the flightpath; he's flying a chair, quite beyond control; he's going to have just one more chance at a barrel roll. All in a dream, all as a dream, the colours too bright, the music too deafening - the black-out world has just begun to show. These cracked-out words I offer... but I still don't know. Cool blue suffuse the colour gun - oh come in, come in number one: your time's nearly run. Speed-freeze the frame, the present and the past hold fast... It's too fast, the thing don't, the thing won't, the thing don't last. Cockpit The rolling dice clash together never make up the score; that old device, the ejector seat, glued to the floor. Everybody waits for everyone to make a show - no-one wants to be the first, admitting that they know how anythings that's gone down here could fit into an analytic groove... W ait for the tactical move, wait for some action we all can approve. Too much to drink, for the cup reaches down to the sea; too much to think, the barometer pressuring me. Rolling down the weather for an Easter parade, reeling out the Maydays in the hope of being saved, but the radio ham's out giving blood - no, no, no, he's not listening. The cricketer knows his Wisden , the pilot has got his Jane's , but the sum of this factual wisdom don't help us to fly the plane (no, and it never will...) Beneath the tartan two-piece something rips undone... Wait for the ladder to run wait for the snake that the ladder becomes. A passenger hits the cockpit, willing to chance his game: pulls out his gun and cocks it in the hope that it all might change. (oh, but it never will...) A fly-leaf from the library shows others have been here before, tried, failed and kicked out the door; the aircrew don't care anymore - not they just wait for the beat of the silk-worm wing, wait for the heat to come down on us - full force of the law. Silk-Worm Wings Full force of gravity pulls me down, I'll be better off out of there; aerobatic spin around, I'll take my chances in the open air. Sycamore silk-worm wings or Roman Candle to the ground, there's only one thing for shure: when the balloon goes up the aeronaut calm down. He say nothing is quite what it seems, he say nothing is quite what it seems; I say nothing is nothing. A Black Box Softly, the angels sing their time and space refrain: there's something in everything if you can only pin down its name Aerobatic thoughts at the back of my mind - Is it nothing but the looping line we all follow? Nothing but the spiral twist of DNA There'll be no looking back from tomorrow on today. So the wire is tripped, split-seconds defect to their successors; the umbilical cord is ripped - here we all are in free fall. I stall where I am, as if to see where I've been: only running down the looping line we all follow, only chasing down the spiral twist of DNA - There can be no looking on to tomorrow from today. Life/death/night/day - cold breath will surely fly away. Is the empire of sensation locked in a black box deep in me, encoded there somehow? It fires the imagination to fly on a wing and a prayer through my life - is that how it is? There'll be no looking back on this... this is now, which will be then - is this the means? All I know for shure is this is the end. No looking back from tomorrow, no, there'll be no looking back on today; better be looking on to tomorrow... better think on today.

Unleashing The Bloodthirsty

Dormancy Spirits await rebirth From their sleep They will soon awake Restless dead Catching the wiff of hate Blood they anticipate They will soon drink Murderers Subconscious attraction On their graves Blood will now spill Ancient bones Reform in grounds below Born, as the blood will flow Killing is all they know Blood They live, they thirst Blood Coalesce Pieces become a whole For their strength Blood is absorbed Rancorous Aeons of building rage Death an immortal cage Now they are freed Livid beasts Rising now for revenge From the past Hate comes alive Tenebrous Restruct evil ones The demons will come Cruelity has just begun Blood They live, they thirst Blood, blood First one that they find Attack the mortal Claws tear at his face Pull the flesh from bone Decapitate the man They hold his head aloft Headless body slumps The blood is gushing out Screaming victims fall Repulsive beasts attack Gore pours from the torso Hellish creatures stab Organs, grisly trophies Rewards for their rage Blood drips from their jaws They disembowel the corpse Kill with speed Victims bleed Wretched souls Headless on poles Savage thirst Vesseles burst Torn apart Eat the heart Vengeance taking form Endless hatred for the living Plunderng the world Paroxysm of the damned Rapture of their rage Euphoria from butchery A dark world will eclipse all life Barbaric ways forever reign Blood They live, they thirst Blood, blood


How this, my rightful palace Has been fouled With the dust On countless innocent dead Ornamented extinction Of a soon-to-be soul Stripped naked I run From this ultimate goal First I was warm Then I drifted cold I saw the afterlife So ancient and so old Hate the only true emotion So should it be So shall it be Where the void is eternal And life is internal I was born a god And will die as one Without a pure soul I cannot give sight To their blind lives But will only blind myself And leaves me nothing But sorrowfilled The vastness I see That surrounds me I am one with infinity Trapped in the world of formlessness The world is dying Nihilistic rage burns deep within I am one with blasphemy Trapped in the world of formlessness The world is dying Source of power kept free from sin


Butt Trumpet
Something has gone wrong We're losing all our rights Everyone is blind Everything has changed Moving every day Towards a police state Secret government Will take it all away Disinformation Is your only source Burying thee truth Keeping us apart Illuminati Secret society What can we do? What can we do? Have we all lost? Is it too late? What can we do? What have we done! I often wonder why Nobody can tell just what the hell Is going on Everything you're told Your entire life Every single thing Is a fucking lie Look around you Things are not the same We're letting them win Who's the one to blame? Majority Jason society What will you do? What will you do? When it's all gone You will be in chains When it's all gone You will be their slave Something has gone wrong Our minds are numb We're lobotomized From mind control But what of us Is it not our fault? We let them rule We became the flock Nineteen people Are in command You think you know Just where it started? They've got the balls of Uncle Sam What did we do? What did we do? It's all gone We are all their slaves We are fucking blind We are all in chains ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------ Eric WincentsenGlendale Community College Glendale, Arizona We want the airwaves!

Was it funny? Share it with friends!