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Tuesday, 24 October 2017
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Listen Gorati Venkanna - Palle Kanneeru Peduthundo


B.B.S. (Black Sheep)

Intro: Dres
Crumbs to the floor
Bums off the wall
Stage lamb they're sure I hate ya all
like a real brawl
One to the two, two to the R
E to S-E baby pall
Doin my thing with my peeps
Verse One: Dres
I bounce around the city like I was a personal check, see
I'm only runnin with niggaz catchin, dayroom wreck B
Keepin it real with appeal I gets filthy like I'm dirty
Straight up and down you'll say that them the niggaz seven thirty
What nah, bumba claat babble like you got to say
Neither one no got jack, then me not come to play
So move it away I say before you can't move it away
Black Sheep, aight? Black Sheep, aiyyyy!
Iiiii, oweee, who? You so
I'm rockin it on the regular I pick it up like a fro
and your radio's fly when the Sheep's on the dial
YOu flaunt it and freak it and flip it, freely with style
On top of the pile, funky laundry, for Ron G
Crazy shout out to papi pop, and Kanji
Keepin it tight making it right since I left
Though it was never wrong, don't hate me cause I'm def
I'm just
Chorus: Emage
Bubblin brown sugar -- repeat 4X
Verse Two: Dres
Plop, plop... fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is
To be the epitome of an MC, gettin biz-E
after R, R after D
S at the end yes y'all it's me
No need to doubt it, New York's got my loyalty
Boogie down astoundin sound representin royalty
Oop-a-daisy maybe, opps-a-daisy
Boots upside the head of niggaz who played D
Emblamin like fluid I'm keepin bullets like you threw it
Tip-top, hip-hop, Black Sheep, new shit
The brown bubblin down to rip it on the double
and it's been three joints everybody thinks we"re smugglin
Ahem ahem, yeash well you know me
I put dope inside your vinyls, cassettes, and CD's
A shoe-in when I kick it in the Bronx like Danny Branko
My flows dodge trucks when I pickup like a Bronco
Verse Three: Dres
Yo, I save the drama for my mama comma for your comedy
With a condom for your momma when she's up on top of me
I call it jealousy and you can call me hoe
Cause I was hittin bahbazahsn that you're never gonna know
Alls well, that ends well, here's to welfare
And friends that confront, and lovers that care
I get down Uptown from dawn to dusk B
Takin the whoopin streets like I was Billy McCluskie
** retro, nineties in Harlem you'll get wet bro
Get low, or you might need assistance from your head hoe
Dolo wreakin havoc on your phono the igniter
I'm smokin cheeba sonny, I run with street fighters
And I'm not hearin your noise fearin your boys playin with toys
I'm crashin with a passion trashin and smashin decoys
Bright lights in action, yours you'll beg my pardon
Cause you can't be a Harlem player unless you play in Harlem

Serpent Tongue (Cradle Of Filth)

[Part 1]

So adept was unspoken Man
At dusting ledgers of the seraphim
That Lilith swept across the broken land
In a whirl of lust to pleasure him

This bland Adam, a reaper of the sun
In bone dry season, for Eve was busy ** thumbs
Pricked in rosy gardens as he spattered into shells
And ran with morning fauna; His mastiffs and gazelle

Breathless as the wind
Adam, prowled, fell foul to Sin
But not before She spread Her grin
Across His silent lips
At crack of day, though what was shame?
The raptor's nest wherein they lay
Bore witness to Her soft parade
Of fingers come to grips

His undivine attention won
She deftly spun
From 'neath His thrusts to writhe above
In ecstasy
Pendulous She swung
As if her limbs imbibed His tongue
To spill, as with His rod
The secret name of God

But no seed passed those fruitful lips
For fearing Her who grasped, He slit
Her throat from ear to where She fled
With tail and blood between Her legsss...

[Part II]

So very kept was the virgin hand
That brushed the treasures of Utopia
And how the greed swept across the desert sands
In late August just to measure Her

This hallowed Eve, a creature of the moon
A simple dish born with a silver spoon
Giddy sniffing orchids that opened after dusk
Incubus and Prudence, two such swoon to touch Her

Restless as the skies
Temptation, bloomed, found room to rise
And snatching breaths between Her thighs
He crawled to Eve...
At dead of night, the sticky clime
Smelt perfect to this serpentine
This shining Angel
Palled in mysteries...

Her undivine attention won
He deftly spun
A web of for the one
Great sacred tree
Bejewelled and lit
As if a thousand shades did flit
About boughs of forbidden lore
Hidden for the want of more

And when seeds passed those fruitful lips
And Mankind basked in vast eclipse
A Devil shot of thin disguise
Surmised to better paradise

Have You Seen Her (M.C. Hammer)

Ah Yeah! I wear I could just take in
I just couldn't cool down the world
Look at the stars in the sky
And drift all into the sweet memory that I have
Of the love in my heart that I've been searching for
For so long and I know somewhere
If I keep looking that love I find
The picture grows clearer and clearer
From the back to the front of my mind
And like love - a love I know I have
The girl that I want should be mine, should be fine and will last

I see her face and I can't let go
She's in my dreams and my heart, so let me know
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) I'm looking for that love

She' a bum and a virgin in my memory
I have it better but tell me where could she be
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) I'm looking for that special love Oh Love

(Love for Love, that's a feeling)    Love, that's a feeling
(That I need your love)              That I have, I definitly need
(Wo...!)                             Ah Yeah!
(Please be mine)                     Baby be mine
(I need your love to make it)        I need your love to make it
(Baby be mine)                       So well to be mine
(Baby be mine)                       Ah Yes! Be mine

The search is going on from coasts to coasts
A woman for the man who's palling the most
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?)

My heartbeat is strong, that love cannot be wrong
I need her and I love her, so come on to my home
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) I'll keep looking

At the movies in my car of my very old
At a game, I did the world of a Cosby show
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) You're real Tell me what's a

At the track, at the club, of out buy dove
If you've seen her that I help her 'cause I'm in love
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) My heart's hurt, so bad

(Love for love, That's a feeling)    Love is a feeling
(That I need your love)              That I know I need
(WO...!)                             Ah Yeah!
(Please be mine)                     Be mine babe
(I need your love to make it)        I need your love to make it
(Baby be mine)                       Why don't you be mine?
(Baby be mine)                       Where could she be?

At a store around the corner, I'm wondering at night
A children with another brother holding a mic
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) Hammer, you know I'm looking

Calling all my friends all around the place
God, the birth from my Holy rugged base
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) You can pit her out, children
Yeah! Let me get on the phone

Ten drag all in lover
Fat buy Peggy, won't you help your young brother
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) I've got a picture in my mind

The dome is so clear of the love I need here
Like a Danny B. magic, and why don't you appear
(Have you seen her?) Oh baby, why don't you appear?
(Tell me have you seen her?) I can see your face

I've seen her face again and again
Come knocking at my door, and you know I'll let you in
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?) Oh my sweet love

Searching around the world, what more do I say?
The girl is hard to see, like the unseen D.J.
(Have you seen her?) Have you seen her?
(Tell me have you seen her?)
(Have you seen her?)

Intelligensreserven (Räserbajs)

Det var en B-action du bara skulle se,
som du blev imponerad av och ville vara med i.
Med pubishår på pung och negermössa på ditt pall,
slaktar du det du kallar hjältar för ditt eget
kall. Du har inga spärrar, uselt fungerande pannlob,
ja du är tönten personifierad: Teamklädsel och vapen
bara till försvar?

Du gav röven ett ansikte utåt sett
och den bekräftar dig själv.
Du gav röven ett ansikte utåt sett och du kommer aldrig
avancera till vår akademikerreserv.

Med gängbildning och outlaw ska nurdsen nu
få punch, med hjälp av pubertetkomplex
och hippa kits från grunge. Liten stad
och maffia är begrepp så långt isär,
men du vill väl snart kontrollera
drogmarknaden här.
Du skulle behöva leka två hål i ett,
din näsa i min röv, för att känna smaken,
som de du mött har känt för att de inte dög.

Men om du tänkte efter lite grann så kanske
också du kan hitta fram till den vanliga människan
som finns där någonstans.
Videokomplex och pubertet och allt för lite
sundaktivitet, mynnar ut i att din
hjärna blir kroniskt seg, men inte av
tjuvfiske av mört med deg.

Du gav röven ett ansikte utåt sett
och den bekräftar dig själv.
Du gav röven ett ansikte utåt sett och du kommer aldrig
avancera till vår intelligensreserv.

1651 (Marduk)

Then it will be by the pale death with his cold hand,
Who with time will stroke your breasts at last;
The precious coral of your lips long past,
Your shoulder's snow, now warm,
Turned cold to sand.

Your eye's sweet lightning, the skills of your hand,
To him before whom all things fail, will fall
That hair that rivals gold, it's gleam will pall,
With days and years as any common band.

Your well-formed foot, your so enchanting ways,
Of not to dust, to nothing time decays,
Then none will bow down for your beauty's sake,
This and more than this will come to be;
Not even your bones the end of time will see,
Since time chose of nothing it to make.

Death Magick For Adepts (Cradle Of Filth)

Come distortured artists
Bitter things seek meaning
Even if they're madness to behold
Once forbears to horizons
Where the dead stayed dreaming
Now nightmares waken souls
That fear the living's toll

Gova, Bosch and Brueghel
Three times moonwise stain thy graves
For words alone are at loss to trace
The face of today's inhuman wraith

One half adrift in the vast abyss
Of despair and misery
The other a mask of rich red lips
Whetted by the fevers of belief and greed

All damned in this inferno
Where even Virgil averts his eyes
From the black mass mutual gang rape
Of Caesing hands an forced divides

Trespass these seven gates
To a world bloodlet to shades
Where Seraphim bleat
Of their cold and coming Master's race
In the seweres of Babylon
Stillborn to a trough anon
Chimiracles will hatch like plots
To dredge faeces to pearl their cross

Enter Penteholocaust
Five aeons past, yet still Man grasps
At final straws to save his cast

His Lord is a leper we shall not want
He betrayed us with white lies
His acrid pall as of the tomb
Reminds us how we rot inside

Gutted like fool's paradise
Glutted on cruel appetites

Holding court to chaos
Folding to far graver arms
A downfall fatal to all resounds
As orgies peak in self centred psalms

And nature screams her sufferings
Under bowed and cankered wings
A bleak scorched Earth necrotica burning
Like the robes we've torn from her

She begs us lay her pain to rest
Lest we are left with nothingness
Save for her stripped and ravished flesh

And if her fate is not portent of Apocalypse
Then the comets that graxe nightskies
Will surely cleanse of wrongs and reichs
When you and I and all else dies

It's rotting down
This carcass Maggotropolis

Interdependent as worms to the grave
Allah's true name is naught
Chist cannot save
Locked in a waltz of evermore frantic steps
Spells of regret
Death Magick for Adepts

Be prepared to fulfill prophecies
The glorious fall of a sin dynasty

Gutted like fool's paradise
Glutted on cruel appeitites

We've woven hearts a thorn arbour
Left tear streaked reason upon the shore
And bereft of compass, star or more
Set out for this World's end
Few at the prow, most slave below
Painting coal a perfect gold
But for all it's worth, the engines slow
Dead in the brine again
Come cabin fever, sodomy on the bounty
Prey to phallus seas
That hiss and foam to douse disease
A storm roars on the way
Blacker than the Ace of Rapes
Dealt out by Death in darkwood glades
Our ship of fools, all boards handmade
Sinks, dashed by seismic waves

The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming Beneath The Blazon Of The Hyperborean Empire (part: Iii) (Bal-Sagoth)

Behold glorious Hyperborea, gleaming jewel of the
north; an eon-veiled kingdom forever steeped in ancient legendry and the renown
of its martial splendour... but of late, an ill wind whispers malignly through
its opulent labyrinth of marbled citadels...


[Episode I:]
[To be found on the second Bal-Sagoth album; "Starfire Burning Upon The Ice-Veiled Throne of Ultima Thule"]

[Episode II:]
[To be found on the third Bal-Sagoth album; "Battle Magic"]


[Episode III:]

And so, it ends. You have learned much, young Xerxes.
Your training is nigh on complete.
The years which you have spent here at the Praxeum have been difficult ones,
but the reward of elucidation you have gained far outweighs the hardship you
have endured. Many lessons have you learned, not least of which is that
knowledge is never without its price, my neophyte.

Yes, master Altarus. I have heeded your tutelage well, and your wisdom
has been a great balm to me during the many trials I have undergone. I can now
command the Mists of the Oracle, and the Great Eye of the Universe opens at my
bidding. And yet, before I am placed before the final scrutiny of the Elders,
I ask that I be allowed to gaze into the sidereal vista once more, to witness
the final outcome of that great struggle which has so captivated me during my
studies at the Praxeum.

Ah yes... the epic conflict between the Dark Liege of Chaos and the
royal Scion of proud Hyperborea. Very well, my young apprentice. Command the
starscape to divulge its mysteries... look deep into the fathomless mists, and
the ruinous carnage of A'zura-Kai shall once again be arrayed before thine
curious gaze. Aye Xerxes, thrice you have summoned the besieged and benighted
vista of Hyperborea... now pay heed, for the final battle is at hand!

[Chapter 7: The Last Stand Against Chaos.]

And a crimson sun rose slowly over the Field of Blood... and such
were the corpse-mounds of the dead that they aspired to touch that ireful orb.
Slithering shadows nuzzled the massed bodies of the slain, as the King rallied
the survivors of the battle against Chaos to one final act of defiance...

Impertinent mortal wormcast! Do you truly aspire to prevail
against me? I am the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the Scourge of Lemuria,
Arch-Foe of the Immortals of Ultima Thule! Long before man hurled himself
squamously from the primordial ooze, I waged war with gods and thwarted

Lord Angsaar, the Dark Liege of Chaos, was poised on the brink of
ultimate victory. By insidious mani**tion, he had carefully drawn the forces
of Hyperborea to battle at the Shrine of A'zura-Kai, pitting his legions of
ravening wraiths against the stalwart forces of the Hyperborean Empire, and
during the fray his agents of evil had seized the Ninth Crystal of Mera from
the grasp of the King. With the cosmic energies of the Shrine magnifying the
empyreal power of the Ninth Crystal, Angsaar triumphantly performed the arcane
rite that would sunder the sorcerous fetters which had hitherto kept his
physical incarnation confined within the ancient Chamber of Slumber. Summoning
the interdimensional portal which the mystic power of the Shrine allied with
the sorceries of the Crystal could generate, Angsaar channelled his fiendish
presence from his darksome prison directly to the death-gorged Field of Blood.
Thus was the spell of confinement woven countless aeons ago by
Angsaar's immortal nemesis broken, and on that fateful day the dread
Chaos-Liege strode the world of mortal men once more. The King, flanked by the
few valiant survivors of the ruinous Wraith-onslaught, stood defiant before
the withering glare of Chaos...

Ah, great King of Hyperborea! My mystic s**les are at last
broken... I am free once more! Your army is lost, your realm is mine...
it shall be blessed with the honour of being the first to fall before my
renewed onslaught! Bow to me in obeisance!

Never! For too long your diseased machinations have hung like a
black pall over glorious Hyperborea... you have invaded my very dreams and
sown the virulent seeds of base treachery within my court. It ends here,

Feh! Yield to me, throw down your sword! Obey and I promise
that your death shall be swift, if not entirely devoid of suffering!

I defy you!

Hyperborea shall fall! Your court shall become the heart of my
new imperium! Your people shall become my lackeys, bearing the glorious burden
of my sovereignty with sweet praise upon their lips!

I shall always defy you!

Then your pain shall etch a new legend of suffering in the
benighted obelisks of the Outer Darkness, and not even that cursed blade of
adamantine black steel shall preserve thee! Die!

So, the final battle begins! Into the fray we ride! For the eternal
glory of Hyperborea!

And the Chaos-Liege summoned the remnants of his cackling
wraith-horde, commanding the unholy brood to once more hurl itself like a
black tide against the now bloodied but still razor edged steel of the grim
survivors of Hyperborea. With the enchantments of the Ninth Crystal still
crackling in the air about the Shrine, the incorporeal frames of the wraiths
were once more transmogrified into squamous pseudo-flesh, and thus vulnerable
to the biting blades of the King's depleted war-host. Rallying his forces once
more, the Royal Scion of Hyperborea clove into the massed hordes of nethermost
horror, his ensorcelled ebon blade hewing five-score left and five-score right,
leaving a viscous and noxious trail of sundered fiends in his wake. The
Arch-Wraith of Lord Angsaar, that same bestial horror which had smitten the
King and seized the Crystal of Mera from his gauntleted fist, swooped screaming
from the crimson sky in a bid to extinguish the life-force of the Hyperborean
monarch, but the benighted blade of the King was swifter, and with a flash of
noisome green light and smoke, the Arch-Wraith's head rolled to the
blood-slaked earth, its leering countenance forever frozen in a grotesque
parody of un-death. And once more, like a purifying storm of righteous fury
the heroes of Hyperborea dealt steel-cold and martial discipline unto the
baying hounds of Chaos.

And yet I perceive that the wraith-horde's number was being ever
bolstered by the sorceries of the reborn Chaos-Liege... for every keening
horror **ed down by a Hyperborean blade, three more were summoned from the
Outer Darkness by the machinations of Angsaar. Even the courage and the grim
determination of the King's valiant force could not hope to prevail against
such an overwhelming foe. But the last, best hope still remained, clutched
tightly within the King's fist! The Shadow-Sword!

Your perceptions are clear, young Xerxes. The life-essence of
Angsaar's arch-foe was still encased within the stygian sword following their
last cataclysmic encounter many aeons past, and that yard of fearsome black
steel spoke once more to the King in the same long dead tongue it had burned
upon his mind deep within the Mountains of the Dead. One hope remained to
defeat Angsaar, but it would carry with it a most terrible price for the King.

[Chapter 8: The Return of the Immortal]

Hearken, noble King of Hyperborea. Long ago,
before life evolved from the boiling oceans of the primordial sphere, I waged
furious and slaughterous battle with the Chaos-Liege over the possession of
the sacred Crystals of Mera, shards of such incredible sorcerous potency that
even the Empyreal Lexicon itself was no greater a prize. Although I succeeded
in smiting the dark one and imprisoning him within his Chamber of Slumber, I
was hammered to the brink of dissolution by the abominations of Chaos, and I
thus transferred my life-essence into my Sword, that same blade which you now
hold in your grasp. I committed my fading energies to concealing the blade
from the sight of man until such time as it would once more be needed to bring
to bear against Chaos... aye, until such time as Angsaar reawakened. It was I
who guided you to the mountainous resting place of the blade when my arch-foe
marked you as central protagonist in his scheme to recover the
Prime Crystal, o' King of the North. To utterly destroy the Dark Liege of
Chaos, you must join your essence with mine... we must fuse our life-forces
and become one so that my full power may be unleashed against Angsaar once
more. But this final deed demands the most severe of tolls, o' noble monarch...
To become as one with the immortal essence of the Shadow-Sword is to sacrifice
forever your own mortality, and to forsake eternally the world of man. Are you
prepared to pay this price, King of Hyperborea?

To preserve the sovereignty of my realm and safeguard my people
from the forces of darkness? Aye! For my kingship demands no less a commitment!
So be it... let this final deed be done!

Imperius Rex!

What futile gesture is this? Curse you, manling! Can you not
accept the inevitability of your defeat?

Begone, servitor of Chaos! Your nemesis awaits thee! Return to the
Outer Darkness!

You fool! You cannot comprehend your actions! I offered you
sweet oblivion, and instead you have chosen tortuous damnation!

I would sooner suffer damnation a thousand times than bend the knee
to Chaos!

And a great stillness descended over the Field of Blood. Grimly,
slowly, the King held aloft the Shadow-Sword and spoke those baleful words of
power which had been forever branded indelibly upon his soul. Writhing tendrils
of night-dark, coruscating energy lanced from the surface of the blade,
entwining the King in a pulsating chrysalis of searing sorcerous power. His
eyes shone deep crimson with an illuminatory radiance not born of this world,
and forces which had lain dormant since before the fall of the Third Moon
stirred at last from their aeons-old slumber...

No... my eternal nemesis, you will not thwart me! Abominations
rise! Destroy these mortals who vex me as the buzzing of gnats vexes a titan!
Drag their impudent souls to the abyss!

Havoc is the cry! Come, fiends of the nether-void...
face righteous pattern-welded death!

Praise Chaos! By the crystal heart of Mera I shall stand deified!

Glory eternal! For our King and sacred Hyperborea!

Noble warriors of Hyperborea... I salute your steadfast courage.
This will be my final command to you. Now come... follow your King into battle
one last time. Into the fray we ride... For the eternal glory of Hyperborea!

The circle closes... you cannot resist the unparalleled might of Chaos and the exquisite majesty of the Z'xulth! I shall unleash all the terrors of the Outer Darkness against thee! Behold the true extent of my power... My flesh is a shrine wherein all demons dwell!

Stand fast! Cry havoc for glory and the annihilation of the titans of Chaos! We fight to the last man!

By all the gods of Hyperborea... a legacy shall be wrought by our blades... our legend shall live forever! Hear me, Angsaar! My humanity fades... my mortality dissipates as does the darkness before the glimmering kiss of the dawn! Let us finish it... Let this be our final battle!

And thus was etched into the eternal codex of the heavens the
immortal legend of the Hyperborean Empire.

But master Altarus... what was the outcome of the final clash? What
effect did the power of the Immortal have upon the King? Did he ultimately
defeat Angsaar and the horrors spawned from the Outer Darkness?

Alas Xerxes, no one knows the final outcome of the battle. Even the
Great Eye of the Universe and the Mists of the Oracle are unable to ascertain
the fate of the King and his army on that fate-steeped dawn. So much
unparalleled and polarized arcane power was unleashed upon the Field of Blood
at that instant that it has forever obscured the oracular vista and shielded
the truth from the eyes of even the most talented and presentient master of
the Praxeum. Today, Hyperborea is but a memory, a glorious legend which rests
forever within the same fathomless shark-haunted grave as do mythic Lemuria
and fabled Atlantis..

I shall make it a priority to ascertain the truth, master. I vow I
shall channel all the skills I have learned here at the Praxeum into
discovering the final fate of the King of Hyperborea!

And I believe that you may well succeed, my young apprentice. But
whatever the case, one thing is certain. As long as legends endure in the
cosmos and the deeds of heroes are celebrated in the annals of eternity, none
who gaze in awe beyond the mists and are blessed to behold it shall ever forget
the splendour of a thousand swords gleaming beneath the blazon of the
Hyperborean Empire.

[THE END...?]

[15 October: 1893]
After a sleepless and oppressively feverish night spent pondering the truths
which I exhumed amongst The Ghosts Of Angkor Wat, I have concluded that these
perceived parallels and their possible significance carry me ever closer to
the centre of this great global web, the strands of which I have been
traversing in my long quest for enlightenment, and yet I now fear that the
owner of this web has surely felt the tremblings I have caused along its
delicate filaments, and may well feel compelled to investigate the

The Conqueror Worm (Sopor Aeternus)

Lo! Tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An Angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drownd in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears.
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumbe low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!

That motley dram - oh be shure
It shall not be forgot!
With it´s phantom cheased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
The self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crowling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!--It writhes!--with mortal pangs
The mimic become it´s food,
And the angels sob ar virmin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out-out are the lights-out all!
And, over each quevering form,
The curtain, the funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all palid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
And the play is the tragedy, "Man"
And it´s hero is the Conqueror Worm.

Zero She Flies (Al Stewart)

She's a mollusk,
a seamstress,
a princess,
a priestess,
a negress,
she knows her position

She's a swallow,
a willow,
a cello,
a pillow,
a bow
and also a physician

She takes your eyes
and mends your head
She draws the wine
and breaks the bread
She has no lies to tell you
and no truths to sell you
She's a girl,
she's almost a woman

And Zero she flies as the morning sighs
Spreads her wings like a seagull
From the mountain he watches her,
biding his time
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle

He's a hawthorn,
a raven,
a scarecrow,
a haven
for moon-blessed thought and opinion
He will laugh like the fountains,
the bones of the mountains
lie deep in his forest religion

You will call his name when evening falls
And the ground sets hard and the night wind calls
You will feed him and heed him,
at times you will need him
Say you were almost his woman

And Zero she flies as the morning sighs
Spreads her wings like a seagull
From the mountain he watches her,
biding his time
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
In the shuddering mad red blood-let sunset
a tired man is leaving his cover
And the soft eyes of Zero
are cut by the sounds
of the vanishing feet of her lover

And the door slams shut
and the air grows tight
And her throat is gripped
by the hands of night
And all that is left
is the clock on the shelf
As it ticks one day into another

And Zero she sighs as the morning dies
With the broken wings of a seagull
From the mountain he watches her, sensing his time
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
At the pall of the day the man of the mountain
is nearing the end of his travel
And the fence is down
on the westland bounds
and a footfall pounds in the gravel

Comes a knock three times
and the air grows still
As he steps inside from the sudden chill
And the moment is caught in the net of the night
For the coming of dawn to unravel

And Zero she flies as the morning sighs
Spreads her wings like a seagull
From the mountain he's coming,
judging his time
And his eyes are the eyes of an eagle

Oh Zero she flies as the morning dies
Spreads her wings like a seagull
From her window he watches her,
a man in his time
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle

Boris (Melvins)

I'd like to take, I'd like to feel wanted
Take 'em up and take 'em down
I'd like to make a lot of, Generate the one eyed males
Build 'em up and let 'em fall
Just lay 'em on and leave the lily tight
Take 'em up and take 'em down
Generate, lay 'em flat like monkey eyed man
Leave 'em built right?
Stand 'em, tie 'em down
It's like sin
Boris likes a lot of little pigs to kick
Makes every single weapon he could ever feed
Boris feed
Let friend stone friend stone lie
Let's make, let's feel wanted
Take 'em up and take 'em down
My shake, mines monkey metal
Boris knows and Boris likes it all
It's like sin
It's a killer, she's a killer maker
It reaches in and takes from a value mind, and not awake, still live
20 bulls have the back and see the lions
I got a small, got what they call a lack
A lack of half-way cut bullets on my arm
I say I can't but I really mean I won't
In their arm, or maybe up a nole
I see it all
See Boris has a whale, see through my isles
He touches an affection, a master mime
Nebulae to me my arms and legs and spine
He's got you palled
I'm sinking, told you wait, like a straight armed druid
Let 'em room


Gorati Venkanna is a famous Telugu folk song writer and singer from Telangana region in India. This song is about a dream of a college youth. Written and sung ...

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