BlameThePixel!

sweet. but im got flying that long to go get cake XD

Suit yourself

Unless... you want to bring it to me?

Just a small town girl
Living in a lonely woooorld...
She took the midnight train
Goin' anywhere
Just a city boy
Born and raised in South Detroit
He took the midnight train
Goin' anywhere...
A singer in a smokey room
A smell of wine and cheap perfume.
For a smile they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on.
Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching
In the night
Streetlights, people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the niiight
Working hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin anything to roll the dice
Just one more time
Some will win
Some will loose
Some were born to sing the bluuues.
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on
Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching
In the niiight
Streetlights, people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the niiight
Don't stop believin'
Hold on to the feelin'
Streetlights, people
Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlights, people
Don't stop.

LOL goddamnit XD

You didn't steal that from Journey.. Who said you did?

Of course I didn't steal it from Journey. =D

hehe

hey since when is it "Not-Poems"? ok these are not poems these are song---dildos, but í did not changed the title. ADMINS

'Twas Non-Poems since I said they weren't poems; they were songs. Those songs kick ass I might add. =D

so

Note that they're also not his

I was going to get to that...
...I think.

Existing on damnation's edge
The priest had never known
To witness such a violent show
Of power overthrown

Angels fighting aimlessly
Still dying by the sword
Our legions killing all in sight
To get the one called Lord

The Gates of Hell lie waiting as you see
There's no price to pay just follow me
I can take your lost soul from the grave
Jesus knows your soul can not be saved

Crucify the so called Lord
He soon shall fall to me
Your souls are damned your God has fell
To slave for me eternally
Hell awaits...
The Reaper guards the darkened Gates
That Satan calls his home
Demons feed the furnace where
The Dead are free to roam
Lonely children of the night
There's seven ways to go
Each leading to the burning hole
The Lucifer controls
Priests of Hades seek the sacred star
Satan sees the answer lies not far
Zombies screaming souls cry out to you
Satanic laws prevail your life is through

Pray to the moon... when it is round
Death with you shall then abound
What you seek... for can't be found
In sea or sky or underground
Now I have you deep inside my everlasting grasp
The seven bloody Gates of Hell
Is where you'll live your last
Warriors from Hell's Domain
Will bring you to your Death
The flames of Hades burning strong
Your soul shall never rest
The Gates of Hell lie waiting as you see
There's no price to pay just follow me
I can take your lost soul from the grave
Jesus knows your soul can not be saved
Sacrifice the lives of all I know they
Soon shall die
Their souls are damned to rot in Hell
and keep the fire growing deep inside
Hell awaits...

It was a hot June day, and my ass was sticking to the seat of my girlfriend's car.
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby.

And when you stuff yourself into a suit and tie do you think the judge can see through the sweat as he gives you your fine for a post-panic attack speeding ticket on a 90 degree day in New York. And yeah, you're gonna drive home for three hours to work in a basement for tribute bands making posters to pay about a fifth of that price. It's just Staten Island traffic in the summer. Oh!

That orange ball.
That burning orb of fire in the sky is gonna explode and we're all gonna die!
Except for the foolish few who will "think ahead" and drive their SUV's to their bomb shelters
Complain about air conditioning because "baby, we ain't got no more electricity."
They wanna rise when it's done, be a leader with a gun.
Be a leader of what? Like a hundred and one?
Well, fuck it, I'm gonna hang out on the rooftop when it comes.

'Cause when it's dark, it'll be night time, baby.
And I'll get my ass on up out of this mess.
The only stores that are open, baby.
They gonna sell beer, and they're gonna sell ice cream.
And we'll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk
and we'll talk talk talk about how much fun we had, yeah, when
we were fuckin' the world.

Through the glares on our windshields, we can't see each others eyes, just McDonalds cups and wrappers that they're throwing at full speed. And yes, I long for a shadow. And yes, I always appreciate the irony that the only cool comfort that allows us to see is a goddamn billboard. Sing it with me.

A BILL BOARD IS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING US FROM BLINDLY CRASHING. And we'll never see a city not marred by advertisements, and we'll NEVER have a future not working for those companies, and it's sure as shit not getting better so we might as well accept it now, oh.

And that really doesn't cheapen anything because, baby, we're all born to be businessmen. Every Fugazi record has a catalog number and a price tag and every independent label is selling you another goddamn product. But, NO, WE'RE not slaves to the music. Oh no, WE'RE not slaves to the company, baby. We do what we're born and raised to do and when you create something, you're producing something and that act of producing is the creation of a product.

'Cause when it's night, it'll be night time, baby.
And I'll get my ass on up out of this mess.
The only stores that are open, baby.
They gonna sell beer, and they're gonna sell ice cream.
And we'll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk
and we'll talk talk talk about how much fun we had, yeah, when
we were fuckin' the world.
Oh we were fucking the world.
Yeah, we were fu fu cking cking the the world world.

When the sun drops, you ain't gonna be hungover the next day.
When the comet hits, you ain't gonna have no bills to pay.
When the bomb hits, it's gonna be a four day weekend. Hey hey!
When it's all done I'm gonna feel great finally.

And when I finally got to work today, I ate my Subway sandwich, and I drank my Coca-Cola Classic, and then I ate my Sunchips and I thought about the weekend when I'd fill up my Ford van with Mobil brand gas and drive to the Clear Channel venue and I'd drink myself a Budweiser and play my Fender guitar through my Fender amplifier and tell the kids with a straight face through a Shure microphone and JBL speakers that corporate rock is for suckers. Erm...right.