Teksty piosenek he.bialystok.pl

Silent, dark night
The storm had just passed by
Things have settled down again
After a long fight
The smoke slowly clears
But clouds still drop the rain
This house now is empty
'Cause you took what I didn't give you
And I was pleased to see you smiling
Even if we reached the end
Sunny morning
For a chaothic day
Compassion fades away
Now you know
I don't want you to go
But I don't want you to stay
I can't say I love you
'Cause I'm not sure I hate you
But I know I don't wanna see your face
At least not now
Lonely walking
Down your street
Right to your door
I knocked two, three, or four times
In silence thinking
While you spoke
I guess that I was dreaming
'Cause I thought I heard you say you're sorry
But my flowers are still in your wastebasket...

There has always been great speculation as to the nature of the Brown Bull.
In the manuscripts the Bull is referred to as "an Donn Cuailgne". While
the word "Donn" means "brown" it is also the name of the ancient Irish God
of the Dead. There is also a related story which tells how two malevolent
magicians take the shape of Bulls and resume a longstanding feud.
You can fool the woman
- One of these days, you're gonna
fool the man
Cos you've got the insight
You can see a world of things
They can't understand.
You can say you're winning
You can count the score
And say you know that they've lost.
But you'll end up admitting that
The price is more than simply counting
the cost.
Ah yes, they're blind already.
They're blind to love, blind to pain,
Blind to hope, blind to gain.
Ah you can fool them alright
But can you fool the beast?
You can fool the woman
Anyone can see you're gonna
fool the man.
Cos you've ways of knowing.
You can tell their pride will
make them blind in the end.
And leave them blindly gazing.

Por ella perdi la calma
paciencia y la razon
tambien perdi el corazon
cuando yo le di el alma

ella siempre me juraba
quererme sin condicion
pero su ardiente pasion
a mi nunca me quemaba

todo el tiempo lo perdi
llorando detras de ella
ofreciendole una estrella
lo mejor de mi jardin

y desde donde convertir
su invierno en la primavera
soñando que me quisiera
que no me hiciera sufrir

no me entendio
esa mujer nunca me entendio
por ella me muero yo
llorando por su querer

no me entendio
esa mujer nunca me entendio
por ella me muero yo
llorando por su querer

all again!!!

(parody of "Peter And The Wolf" by Sergei Prokofiev)
Hello, Boys and Girls. This is a story that I like to call,
"Peter and the Wolf". Are you sitting
comfortably? ARE YOU!? Good, then let's begin ...
Each character is represented by a different instrument of the
synthesized orchestra. For instance, the part of Billy the Bird is
played by a flute, like this ...
The part of Bruce the Duck is played by an oboe ...
Louie the Cat is a clarinet.
All right, he's not *really* a clarinet - he's just - you know,
h-he's represented by a clarinet ...
The part of the Grandfather will be played by Don Amiche.
He - ... What ? ... Can't make it ? ...
Oh. Okay, um, hmm, in that case,
the part of the Grandfather will be played by a bassoon ...
Three French horns play the part of ... uhm ...
three French horns ... uh ... (The Wolf! It's the Wolf!)
Right ! The Wolf. Seymour the Wolf ...
The kettle drum and bass drum represent the sub-machine-gun fire of the
hunters ...
And, of course, as always, the part of Bob the Janitor is played by the
accordion ...
Well, that's it for the introductions. And now, the story ...
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away ... uh, ... Oh, excuse me ...
sallysally@usa.net

A whispering wind blows mournful over the scorched plains
Unnoticed by the ignorant masses the end has begun
Will the praised new leader be as foolish as his precursor
And will he gather total mischief around him to spread out?

Let this winter of our discontent be over
Finish the cruelty and embrace another day
Will we stay or are we condemned to fall?

A long awaited decision is about to be pronounced
Fate has been stressed for an awful long time
The judge of dusk stays back in preposterous rapture
He nourishes himself from solitude he likes to share

The whispering wind swells to a grinding roar
For the final battle they start to prepare
All hopes are torn apart by grim morbidity
The path to "hell" is paved with so many bad intentions

The winter of our discontent will never be over
Embrace the cruelty, let this be the last day
I want to fall, and you will too...


("The Winter Of Our Discontent")

overal waar ik verschijn
achter mijn rug een stem
een vreemdeling
te lang te gast
vrij op goed gedrag
en ik weet er is geen weg terug maar ik voel dat ik leef
ja ik weet er is geen weg terug maar ik voel dat ik leef
iedereen kijkt langs me heen op zoek naar wie ik was
naar een verzopen kat
ach 't leven is ..ijt
kijk niet om in spijt
want ik weet er is geen weg terug maar ik voel dat ik leef
ja ik weet er is geen weg terug maar ik voel dat ik leef
ja ik weet er is geen weg terug maar ik voel dat ik leef
ja ik weet er is geen weg terug maar ik voel dat ik leef
dat ik leef
dat ik leef