I've got a theory, and I think it's not a bad one --
I couldn't sleep until I had one.
Since this happened I've been getting on fantastically
And my life has changed so drastically.

There's no restrictions, no constrictions... Everything is free.
No distractions - satisfaction's always guaranteed.
I'm feeling rather giddy like a little girl I'll scream.
I'm moving fast, but it can't last I'm running out of steam.

I've got a theory, but it's not a very good one --
I guess I've never understood one.
Since this happened everything's been a catastrophe,
And my life has changed so drastically.

I've been making lists and keeping distance from the crowd.
In my empty room now everything is much too loud.
Exponential existential crises all around.
I try to shout, open my mouth, but I don't make a sound.

I've got a theory, and I think it's gonna change things --
I've been doing lots of strange things.
I haven't felt this way since I was last anaesthetized.
But I'm much safer than you realize.
I'm much saner than you realize.
I'm much safer than you.

what's that from?

The PopCanon album d'art.

ahhh.... : >


She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle
And shuffles about in her candle lit hovel,
Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens
She smells like the cat and the neighbours she sickens,
The black and white t.v. has long seen a picture
The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture,
The postman delivers the final reminders
She sells off her silver and poodles in china.
Drinks to remember, I me and myself
And winds up the clock
And knocks dust from the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
So the past has been bottled and labelled with love. ...

Well it's Ninth and Hennepin
All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are on the sky
Like a tarp thrown all over this
And the broken umbrellas like dead birds
And the steam comes out of the grill
Like the whole goddamn town's ready to blow...
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And all the rooms they smell like diesel
And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat...
And no one brings anything small into a bar around here
They all started out with bad directions
And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear
One for every year he's away, she said
Such a crumbling beauty, ah
There's nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won't fix
She has that razor sadness that only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by
And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
'til you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen...
And I've seen it all, I've seen it all
Through the yellow windows of the evening train...

So ... is this now the song lyrics thread? I was hoping to find out what mudpuppie's theory is.

You roared into the driveway
Of our southwestern ranch-style house
On a new Kawasaki
All yellow and black
Fresh out of the showroom
Our house faced west
So the big orange sun
Positioned at your back
Lit up your magnificent silhouette
How much better, how much better
Could my life get?
900 cubic centimeters of raw whining power
No outstanding warrants for my arrest
Whoaa-whoa, whoa whoa
The pirate's life for me

I hopped on back of the bike
Wrapped my arms around you
I sank my face into your hair
And then I inhaled
As deeply as I possibly could
You were sweet and delicious
As the warm desert air
And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon
We were the one thing in the galaxy
God didn't have his eyes on
900 cc's of raw whining power
No outstanding warrants for my arrest
Hi diddle dee dee, god damn
The pirate's life for me

Homer didn't have a comprehensive word for mind.
The psyche and the conscious self had not yet been combined.
He understood events as repetition of the past,
and individual consciousness was not a part of that.
But early Greek thought played a role in the complicated history of the concept of the soul.

By the time of Plato, these ideas had taken shape.
The Phaedo and Timaeus are works which demonstrate
the consious separation of the knower from the known
and the dual nature of the body and the soul.
Modern thought was possible:
the complicated history of the concept of the soul. Whoa!

Pythagoras and Orphic doctrines all came into play,
because Plato was a mystic in his own Platonic way.
The pre-Socratic Naturalists saw things in terms of "stuff".
But Plato's metaphysics showed that this was not enough.
This is the incredible complicated history of the concept of the soul.
Rock and roll.

For an interesting discussion, see D.R. Dobbs,
"The Greek and the Irrational", Berkeley, 1953
Pages 45 to 115; Ibid.

So ... is this now the song lyrics thread?

Well, then, here's the most profound rock lyrics of all time:

Take out the papers and the trash
Or you don't get no spendin' cash
If you don't scrub that kitchen floor
You ain't gonna rock and roll no more
Yakety yak (don't talk back)

Just finish cleanin' up your room
Let's see that dust fly with that broom
Get all that garbage out of sight
Or you don't go out Friday night
Yakety yak (don't talk back)

You just put on your coat and hat
And walk yourself to the laundromat
And when you finish doin' that
Bring in the dog and put out the cat
Yakety yak (don't talk back)

Don't you give me no dirty looks
Your father's hip; he knows what cooks
Just tell your hoodlum friend outside
You ain't got time to take a ride
Yakety yak (don't talk back)

Yakety yak, yakety yak
Yakety yak, yakety yak
Yakety yak, yakety yak
Yakety yak, yakety yak

Be my guide,
Be my pilot.
Be the breath on my face,
Be the arms that can form it,
Be the heart in my chest.

This is the way I want you to begin my life.
I couldn't face another night like that again.

Be my hope, I'll be your hope.
Be the hair that knots with my hair.
Be the drink when I am thirsty.
Be the hand to hold at night.

Well, everybody's heard that the bird is the word . . .

Oh yeah...well,

Wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom!

Tutti frutti, oh rutti,
Tutti frutti, oh rutti,
Tutti frutti, oh rutti,
Tutti frutti, oh rutti,
Tutti frutti, oh rutti,
Wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom!

I got a gal, named Sue, she knows just what to do,
I got a gal, named Sue, she knows just what to do,
She rocks to the East, she rocks to the West,
She is the gal that I love best,
Tutti frutti, ...

I got a gal, named Daisy, she almost drives me crazy,
Got a gal, named Daisy, she almost drives me crazy,
She knows how to love me, yes indeed,
Boy you don't know what she's doin' to me,
Tutti frutti, ...

or (from the something to offend everyone department):

I want a nasty little jewish princess
With long phony nails and a hairdo that rinses
A horny little jewish princess
With a garlic aroma that could level tacoma
Lonely inside
Well, she can swallow my pride

I want a hairy little jewish princess
With a brand new nose, who knows where it goes
I want a steamy little jewish princess
With over-worked gums, who squeaks when she cums
I don’t want no troll
I just want a yemenite hole

I want a darling little jewish princess
Who don’t shit about cooking and is arrogant looking
A vicious little jewish princess
To specifically happen with a pee-pee that’s snappin’
All up inside
I just want a princess to ride
Awright, back to the top...everybody twist

I want a funky little jewish princess
A grinder; a bumper, with a pre-moistened dumper
A brazen little jewish princess
With titanic tits, and sand-blasted zits
She can even be poor
So long as she does it with four on the floor
(vapor-lock)

I want a dainty little jewish princess
With a couple of sisters who can raise a few blisters
A fragile little jewish princess
With roumanian thighs, who weasels ’n’ lies
For two or three nights
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites
Won’t someone send me a princess who bites

followed by:

A festive CYO party with crepe paper streamers, contestants
for the broom dance, the , baked goods, & FATHER RILEY
making sure the lights don't go down too low...


FATHER RILEY AND VARIOUS PARTY GOERS:
Catholic Girls
With a tiny little mustache
Catholic Girls
Do you know how they go?
Catholic Girls
In the Rectory Basement
Father Riley's a fairy
But it don't bother Mary
Catholic Girls
At the CYO
Catholic Girls
Do you know how they go?
Catholic Girls
There can be no replacement
How do they go, after the show?

JOE:
All the way
That's the way they go
Every day
And none of their mamas ever seem to know
Hip-Hip-Hooray
For all the class they show
There's nothing like a Catholic Girl
At the CYO When they learn to blow...

FATHER RILEY: They're learning to blow
All the Catholic Boys!

MARY:
Warren Cuccurullo...

FATHER RILEY: Catholic Boys!

MARY:
Kinda young, kinda WOW!

FATHER RILEY:
Catholic Boys!

MARY:
Vinnie Colaiuta...

CHORUS:
Where are they now?
Did they all take The Vow?

FATHER RILEY: Catholic Girls!

WARREN:
Carmenita Scarfone!

FATHER RILEY: Catholic Girls!

OFFICER BUTZIS:
Hey! She gave me VD!

FATHER RILEY:
Catholic Girls!

WARREN:
Toni Carbone!

CHORUS:
With a tongue like a cow
She could make you go WOW!

JOE:
VD vowdy vootie
Right away
That's the way they go
Every day
Whenever their mamas take them to a show
Matinee
Pass the popcorn please
There's nothing like a Catholic Girl
With her hand in the box
When she's on her knees

LARRY:
She was on her knees,
My little Catholic Girl

CHORUS:
In a little white dress
Catholic Girls
They never confess
Catholic Girls
I got one for a cousin
I love how they go
So send me a dozen
Catholic Girls
OOOOOOH!
Catholic Girls
OOOOOOH! (etc.)

CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER:
This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER...
Joe had a girl friend named Mary.
She used to go to the church club every week.
They'd meet each other there
Hold hands
And think
Pure Thoughts
But one night, at the
Social Club meeting Mary didn't show up...
She was sucking cock backstage at The Armory
In order to get a pass To see some big rock group for free...

In Heaven there is no beer
(No beer?!)
That's why we drink it here
And when we're all gone from here
Our friends will be drinking all the beer.

In Heaven there is no wine
(No wine?!)
So we drink till we feel fine
And when we leave this all behind
Our friends will be drinking all the wine.

In Heaven there is no fear
(No fear)
So we worry too much here
And we drink ourselves full of beer
To help us when we deal with the fear.

In Heaven there are no drugs
That's why we hang with thugs
And when the Lord pulls the plug
All the thugs will still be selling drugs, yeah.

Thugs and drugs
Beer...

In Heaven there is no sex
(Oh no!)
So let's do that next
And when our muscles no longer flex
Someone else will be having sex.

In Heaven there are no wars
Or cars, or movie stars
And when we no longer are
The world will probably still be having wars.

What the heck! Yeah!

Sex and war,
Bars and cars.
Drugs, thugs,
And delicious food.

No really. I have this theory that in every collection of tortilla chips, there's at least one that's shaped remarkably like California.

The other day they waited, the sky was dark and faded,
Solemnly they stated, "He has to die, you know he has to die."
All the children learnin', from books that they were burnin',
Every leaf was turnin', to watch him die, you know he had to die.

The summer sun looked down on him,
His mother could but frown on him,
And all the other sound on him,
He had to die, you know he had to die.

there's one thing you've gotta remember
there's two kinds of people in this world
there's three words you should never say
there's one thing you should never do
there's two good reasons to live
there's only three ways to get things done
four, counting 'do it yourself'
(and they're...)

or more appropriately, from the same band:

The plan keeps comming up again
And the plan mean nothing stays the same
But the plan won't accomplish anything
If it's not implemented.

Like it's always been
And it makes me think of everyone
The cause of this is evident
But the remedy cannot be found
Cause it's so well hidden

This history lesson doesn't make any sense
In any less than ten thousand year increments of (common sense) (x5)

her name was Minvera Ouch
a cow punchers dream come tra tra tra true
her looks don't amount to much
cuz one of her eyes ain't bla bla bla blue
well her skin is like prarie dog leather
and all she can make is her chuck wagon stew
her name is Minvera Ouch
she's the flower of Gower Gulch

--thank you thank you, you should hear it live

If you knew how I long
For you now that you're gone
You'd grow wings and fly
Home to me
Home tonight
And in the morning sun

Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Let's do it all day long
Let abbots, Babbitts and Cabots
Say Mother Nature's wrong
And when we've had a couple-a-beers
We'll put on bunny suits
I long to nibble your ears
And do as bunnies do

Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Let's do it all day long
Rapidly becoming rabid
Singing little rabbit songs
I can keep it up all night
I can keep it up all day
Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Until we pass away

Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Until we pass away