ελληνική μουσική
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    Orfeus
    19.05.2005, 01:07
    Pink Floyd

    "Pigs on the wing" (part 1)


    If you didn't care what happened to me,
    and I didn't care for you,
    we would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain,
    occasionally glancing up through the rain
    wondering which of the buggers to blame
    and watching for pigs on the wing.

    "Pigs on the wing" (part 2)

    You know that I care what happens to you,
    and I know that you care for me too,
    so I don't feel alone,
    or the weight of the stone,
    now that I've found somewhere safe
    to bury my bone.
    And any fool knows a dog needs a home,
    a shelter from pigs on the wing.


    No Guru, No Method, No Teacher...


    [ Το μήνυμα επεξεργάστηκε από: Orfeus on 19-05-2005 01:08 ]
    Jimy
    19.05.2005, 01:07
    "Όταν θα πάω κυρά μου στο παζάρι θα σουθ αγοράσω ένα ΚΟΚΚΟΡΑΚΙ .."


    Orfeus
    19.05.2005, 01:09
    "Walking The Dog"

    Rolling Stones


    Baby, back
    Dressed in black
    Silver buttons all down her back
    High hose, tippy toes
    She broke the needle and she can sew

    Walking the dog
    I'm just a walking the dog
    If you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog
    C'mon now c'mon

    I asked her mother for fifteen cents
    I see you ever jumped the fence
    I jumped so high, touched the skies
    Didn't get back 'til a quarter to five

    Walking the dog
    I'm just a walking the dog
    If you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog
    C'mon c'mon now

    Tell me mary, what's your twelve
    How does your garden grow
    What with silver bells and cockle shells
    And pretty maids all in a row

    Walking the dog
    I'm just a walking the dog
    If you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog
    C'mon now c'mon

    Baby, back
    Dressed in black
    Silver buttons all down her back
    High hose, tippy toes
    She broke the needle and she can sew

    Walking the dog
    I'm just a walking the dog
    If you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog
    C'mon now c'mon

    Yeah just a walking
    Uh just a walking
    Uh just a walking
    Now, if you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog
    C'mon now c'mon
    If you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog
    C'mon now
    If you don't know how to do it
    I'll show you how to walk the dog



    AlienP
    19.05.2005, 01:28
    κοκορίκο κοκορίκο πετεινέ μου πιτσιρίκο κοκο κοκο κοκο κοκορίκο
    faltsoo
    19.05.2005, 10:59
    Πληθος μαιμουδες στους δρομους γυρνουν καθε μερα
    πηραζουν τον κοσμο πειραζουν εσενα και μενα
    ,,,,,,,,,,
    πες στη μαιμου μη με ξαναπειραξει
    πες της τους τροπους της να τους αλλαξει
    πες της στη πολη να μη ξαναρθει
    και στο κλουβι της να μπει.

    ΠΟΛΛ - Κ.ΤΟΥΡΝΑΣ
    avgi
    19.05.2005, 18:59
    Eye Of The Tiger
    Survivor


    Risin' up, back on the street
    Took my time, took my chances
    Went the distance
    Now I'm back on my feet
    Just a man and his will to survive

    So many times, it happens too fast
    You trade your passion for glory
    Don't lose your grip
    On the dreams of the past
    You must fight just to keep them alive

    It's the eye of the tiger
    It's the thrill of the fight
    Risin' up to the challenge
    Of our rival
    And the last known survivor
    Stalks his prey in the night
    And his fortune must always be
    Eye of the tiger

    Face to face, out in the heat
    Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry
    They stack the odds
    Still we take to the street
    For the kill with the skill to survive


    Orfeus
    19.05.2005, 22:28
    "Thick As A Brick"

    Jethro Tull


    Really don't mind if you sit this one out.

    My words but a whisper
    your deafness a SHOUT.
    I may make you feel
    but I can't make you think.
    Your sperm's in the gutter
    your love's in the sink.

    So you ride yourselves over the fields
    And you make all your animal deals
    And your wise men don't know how it feels
    to be thick as a brick.

    And the sand-castle virtues
    are all swept away
    in the tidal destruction
    the moral melee.
    The elastic retreat
    rings the close of play
    as the last wave uncovers
    the newfangled way.

    But your new shoes are worn at the heels
    And your suntan does rapidly peel
    And your wise men don't know how it feels
    to be thick as a brick.

    And the love that I feel
    is so far away:
    I'm a bad dream
    that I just had today
    and you shake your head
    and say it's a shame.

    Spin me back down the years
    and the days of my youth.
    Draw the lace and black curtains
    and shut out the whole truth.
    Spin me down the long ages:
    let them sing the song.

    See there! A son is born
    and we pronounce him fit to fight.
    There are black-heads on his shoulders,
    and he pees himself in the night.
    We'll make a man of him
    put him to trade
    teach him to play Monopoly
    and to sing in the rain.

    The Poet and the painter
    casting shadows on the water
    as the sun plays on the infantry
    returning from the sea.
    The do-er and the thinker:
    no allowance for the other
    as the failing light illuminates
    the mercenary's creed.
    The home fire burning:
    the kettle almost boiling
    but the master of the house is far away.
    The horses stamping
    their warm breath clouding
    in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
    And the poet lifts his pen
    while the soldier sheaths his sword.

    And the youngest of the family
    is moving with authority.
    Building castles by the sea,
    he dares the tardy tide
    to wash them all aside.

    The cattle quietly grazing
    at the grass down by the river
    where the swelling mountain water
    moves onward to the sea:
    the builder of the castles
    renews the age-old purpose
    and contemplates the milking girl
    whose offer is his need.
    The young men of the household have
    all gone into service
    and are not to be expected for a year.
    The innocent young master
    thoughts moving ever faster
    has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
    And the poet sheaths his pen
    while the soldier lifts his sword.

    And the oldest of the family
    is moving with authority.
    Coming from across the sea,
    he challenges the son
    who puts him to the run.

    What do you do when the old man's gone
    do you want to be him?
    And your real self sings the song.
    Do you want to free him?
    No one to help you get up steam
    and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.

    LATER.
    I've come down from the upper class
    to mend your rotten ways.
    My father was a man-of-power
    whom everyone obeyed.
    So come on all you criminals!
    I've got to put you straight
    just like I did with my old man
    twenty years too late.
    Your bread and water's going cold.
    Your hair is too short and neat.
    I'll judge you all
    and make damn sure that no-one judges me.

    You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone
    you meet the stares.
    You're unaware that your doings aren't done.
    And you laugh most ruthlessly
    as you tell us what not to be.
    But how are we supposed to see
    where we should run?
    I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
    your rings upon your fingers
    and your downy little sidies
    and your silver-buckle shoes.
    Playing at the hard case,
    you follow the example
    of the comic-paper idol
    who lets you bend the rules.

    So!
    Come on ye childhood heroes!
    Won't you rise up from the pages
    of your comic-books
    your super crooks
    and show us all the way.
    Well!
    Make your will and testament.
    Won't you? Join your local government.
    We'll have Superman for president
    let Robin save the day.

    You put your bet on number one
    and it comes up every time.
    The other kids have all backed down
    and they put you first in line.
    And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
    and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
    And you wonder who to call on.

    So!
    Where the hell was Biggles
    when you needed him last Saturday?
    And where were all the sportsmen
    who always pulled you though?
    They're all resting down in Cornwall
    writing up their memoirs
    for a paper-back edition
    of the Boy Scout Manual.

    LATER.
    See there! A man born
    and we pronounce him fit for peace.
    There's a load lifted from his shoulders
    with the discovery of his disease.
    We'll take the child from him
    put it to the test
    teach it to be a wise man
    how to fool the rest.

    QUOTE
    We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
    God is an overwhelming responsibility
    we walked through the maternity ward
    and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
    cats are on the upgrade upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.

    LATER
    In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
    I take my place with the lord of the hills.
    And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured
    in neat little rows) sporting canvas frills.
    With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
    while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
    Saying how's your granny and good old Ernie:
    he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.

    The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn)
    lie cradled in the seagull's call.
    And all the promises they made
    are ground beneath the sadist's fall.

    The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
    and signal for the crack of dawn. Light the sun.

    Do you believe in the day?
    Do you? Believe in the day!

    The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
    Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.

    Do you believe in the day?

    The fading hero has returned to the night
    and fully pregnant with the day,
    wise men endorse the poet's sight.

    Do you believe in the day?
    Do you? Believe in the day!

    Let me tell you the tales of your life
    Of your love and the cut of the knife
    the tireless oppression
    the wisdom instilled
    the desire to kill or be killed.

    Let me sing of the losers who lie
    in the street as the last bus goes by.
    The pavements are empty:
    the gutters run red
    while the fool toasts his god in the sky.

    So come all ye young men
    who are building castles!
    Kindly state the time of the year
    and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
    Mark the precise nature of your fear.

    Let me help you pick up your dead
    as the sins of the father are fed
    with the blood of the fools
    and the thoughts of the wise
    and from the pan under your bed.

    Let me make you a present of song
    As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
    While the fool with the hour-glass
    is cooking his goose
    and the nursery rhyme winds along.

    So!
    Come all ye young men who are building castles!
    Kindly state the time of the year
    and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
    Mark the precise nature of your fear.

    See!
    The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
    and the hour of judgement draweth near.
    Would you be the fool
    stood in his suit of armour or
    the wiser man who rushes clear.

    So!
    Come on ye childhood heroes!
    Won't your rise up from the pages
    of your comic-books
    your super-crooks
    and show us all the way.

    Well!
    Make your will and testament.
    Won't you? Join your local government.
    We'll have Superman for president
    let Robin save the day.

    So!
    Where the hell was Biggles
    when you needed him last Saturday?
    And where were all the sportsmen
    who always pulled you through?
    They're all resting down in Cornwall
    writing up their memoirs
    for a paper-back edition
    of the Boy Scout Manual.

    OF COURSE
    So you ride yourselves over the fields
    And you make all your animal deals
    And your wise men don't know how it feels
    to be thick as a brick.




    Spilman44
    20.05.2005, 00:27
    "Τώρα ο σκύλος έφυγε, από ντροπή και πόνο
    πούβλεπε εμένα, στα προδομένα
    τα χάδια σου να λυώνω "
    KIT_KAT
    20.05.2005, 00:59
    Τόσα χρόνια στο σχολείο κάθε χρόνο άλλο θρανίο
    μια ζωή στην ίδια τάξη θεωρία μα και πράξη
    ω, ωωωωωωωω,ωωωωωω....

    Κι ύστερα μέσα στους δρόμους θες δε θες σκύβεις τους ώμους
    ούτε φράγκο για κουλούρι της ζωής το καλαμπούρι
    ω, ωωωωωωωω,ωωωωωω....

    Σαν γαϊδούρι που παλιώνει μα περπατησιά δεν στρώνει
    έμεινα στην ίδια τάξη θεωρία μα και πράξη
    ω, ωωωωωωωω,ωωωωωω....

    Μόνη και στερνή μου ελπίδα η δική σου η παγίδα
    ας το κάνουμε το βήμα, πέρασέ με σε άλλο τμήμα
    ω, ωωωωωωωω,ωωωωωω....
    Mystic
    20.05.2005, 01:19
    nyxterides kai araxnes


    to ena t,alogo na einai mauro
    Orfeus
    20.05.2005, 01:34
    JETHRO TULL

    "Mother Goose"


    As I did walk by Hampstead Fair
    I came upon Mother Goose -- so I turned her loose --
    she was screaming.
    And a foreign student said to me --
    was it really true there are elephants and lions too
    in Piccadilly Circus?

    Walked down by the bathing pond
    to try and catch some sun.
    Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing
    into hankerchiefs as one.
    I don't believe they knew
    I was a schoolboy.

    And a bearded lady said to me --
    if you start your raving and your misbehaving --
    you'll be sorry.
    Then the chicken-fancier came to play --
    with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:
    she drives a lorry).

    Laughed down by the putting green --
    I popped `em in their holes.
    Four and twenty labourers were labouring --
    digging up their gold.
    I don't believe they knew
    that I was Long John Silver.

    Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
    in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back) --
    stole it from a snow man.

    Desmar
    20.05.2005, 12:50
    Δεν αφήνει σημάδια στην άμμο του χρόνου ό,τι μένει ακίνητο

    Σκοτάδι στα φώτα, λοξόδρομοι ξύπνιοι,
    σημάδια από ατμόσφαιρες που έχουν ξεφτίσει,
    ποτάμια στα δέντρα, ξερά νταραβέρια,
    ταμπέλες φτιαγμένες από ανάγλυφα χέρια,
    δεν αφήνουν σημάδια στην άμμο του χρόνου,
    γιατί εκεί επιμένουν, χωρίς να θαμπώνουν,
    συμμορίες ζητιάνων την παράσταση κλέβουν,
    το μελάνι τους χύνουν και βραβείο σου φέρνουν.

    Το παίζεις άνετη, γνωρίζεις φάτσες,
    μα δε σου καίγεται κανένα καρφί,
    γιατί φοβάσαι τις δικές σου γκριμάτσες
    όταν σου κάνουν κόρτε απ’ το γυαλί.

    Να είσαι ελεύθερη γυρεύεις τρόπους,
    μα δεν τους βρίσκεις και αγανακτείς
    νομίζω θέλεις πιο πολλά απ’ τους ανθρώπους,
    κι όταν στα δίνουνε αδιαφορείς.

    Ποιος; Ποιος να στο πει;
    Και ποιος να στο εξηγήσει;
    Αυτό που φαίνεται αλήθεια είναι μισή.
    Κι η άλλη μισή θα σε ξεσκίσει.

    Με τραγιάσκες διατάζουν κολλημένοι ρουφιάνοι,
    αλλά επίσης δεν ξέρουν πως το κόλπο δεν πιάνει,
    αριστερές δεξιώσεις με θρησκόληπτα πέπλα,
    στις ακούραμμους παίρνουν τη δικιά τους την έχθρα.

    Ξέρεις και κρύβεσαι σαν τα ποντίκια,
    μια μαύρη γάτα, λυσσασμένη ορμά,
    χορεύεις ύστερα με δεκανίκια,
    κάτω απ’ το πάτωμα με φωτά θαμπά.

    Μα θα θυμάσαι πάντα ένα βράδυ,
    «Ευτυχισμένη είμαι», μου’ πες δειλά,
    τρελά φεγγάρια σ’ είχαν βάλει σημάδι,
    μ’ένα τραγούδι που’ χα πει απ’ τα παλιά.

    Ποιος; Ποιος να στο πει;
    Και ποιος να στο εξηγήσει;
    Αυτό που φαίνεται αλήθεια είναι μισή,
    κι η άλλη μισή θα σε ξεσκίσει.

    Κρυφές εξατμίσεις τρυπάνε σαν σφαίρα,
    τους τοίχους και λένε πως έρχεται η μέρα,
    απλώνεται η φήμη, αγκαλιάζει την τρέλα,
    και για έρωτα αρπάζουν το ακέφαλο τέρας.
    Δεν αφήνουν σημάδια στην άμμο του χρόνου,
    γιατί εκεί επιμένουν χωρίς να θαμπώνουν.
    Ποτάμια στα δέντρα, ξερά νταραβέρια,
    ταμπέλες φτιαγμένες από ανάγλυφα χέρια.

    Δεν αφήνουν σημάδια στην άμμο του χρόνου,
    γιατί εκεί επιμένουν χωρίς να θαμπώνουν.

    Ποτάμια στα δέντρα, ξερά νταραβέρια,
    ταμπέλες φτιαγμένες από ανάγλυφα χέρια…


    KIT_KAT
    20.05.2005, 12:53
    Δεν γουστάρω Λιζάκι
    αλογάκι σε σκάκι
    σε αγώνα σικέ

    Desmar
    20.05.2005, 13:00
    ... BEST OF ...

    Ο Κουταλιανός

    Σίδερα μασάει ο Κουταλιανός
    τρένα σταματάει ο Κουταλιανός
    πέτρες ροκανίζει ο Κουταλιανός
    και βουνά γκρεμίζει ο Κουταλιανός.

    Κι αν μασάει σίδερα και κάνει το λιοντάρι,
    στο τσαρδί του ο Κουταλιανός
    τρέμει σαν το ψάρι στην κυρά του μπρος
    αχ πώς τη φοβάται ο φτωχός Κουταλιανός,
    τρέμει σαν το ψάρι στην κυρά του μπρος
    αλλά μην το πείτε κανενός.

    Δένεται σε κόμπους ο Κουταλιανός
    καταπίνει γλόμπους ο Κουταλιανός
    είναι παλικάρι ο Κουταλιανός
    τίγρη και λιοντάρι ο Κουταλιανός.


    Orfeus
    20.05.2005, 15:42
    JETHRO TULL

    "One White Duck / 0^{10} = Nothing At All"


    There's a haze on the skyline,
    to wish me on my way.
    And there's a note on the telephone
    some roses on a tray.
    And the motorway's stretching right out to us all,
    as I pull on my old wings
    one white duck on your wall.
    Isn't it just too damn real?

    I'll catch a ride on your violin
    strung upon your bow.
    And I'll float on your melody
    sing your chorus soft and low.
    There's a picture-view postcard
    to say that I called.
    You can see from the fireplace,
    one white duck on your wall.
    Isn't it just too damn real?

    So fly away Peter and fly away Paul
    from the finger-tip ledge of contentment.
    The long restless rustle of high-heeled boots calls.
    And I'm probably bound to deceive you after all.

    Something must be wrong
    with me and my brain
    if I'm so patently unrewarding.
    But my dreams are for dreaming
    and best left that way
    and my zero to your power of ten
    equals nothing at all.

    There's no double-lock defense;
    there's no chain on my door.
    I'm available for consultation,
    But remember your way in is also my way out,
    and love's four-letter word is no compensation.

    Well, I'm the Black Ace dog-handler:
    I'm a waiter on skates
    so don't you jump to your foreskin conclusion.
    Because I'm up to my deaf ears
    in cold breakfast trays
    to be cleared before
    I can dine on your sweet Sunday lunch confusion.

    KicKAnGeL
    20.05.2005, 19:44
    Three blind mice,
    Three blind mice
    See how they run,
    See how they run!

    They all ran after
    The farmer's wife
    She cut off their tails
    With a carving knife
    Did you ever see
    Such a sight in your life
    As three blind mice?



    Spilman44
    20.05.2005, 21:04
    Η γυναίκα μου με δέρνει
    Ντάμπα-ντούμπα
    ντάμπα-ντούμπα...
    vouliakis
    20.05.2005, 23:10
    Quote:

    Το μέλος Spilman44 στις 20-05-2005 στις 21:04 έγραψε:

    Η γυναίκα μου με δέρνει
    Ντάμπα-ντούμπα
    ντάμπα-ντούμπα...





    Τι ζώο είναι πάλι αυτό το νταμπαντούμπα



    επισυναπτόμενα: skyloi.jpg 
    Orfeus
    20.05.2005, 23:21
    Quote:

    Το μέλος Spilman44 στις 20-05-2005 στις 21:04 έγραψε:

    Η γυναίκα μου με δέρνει
    Ντάμπα-ντούμπα
    ντάμπα-ντούμπα...






    Orfeus
    20.05.2005, 23:23
    JETHRO TULL

    "SeaLion"


    Over the mountains, and under the sky
    riding dirty gray horses, go you and I.
    Mating with chance, copulating with mirth
    the sad-glad paymasters (for what it's worth).
    The ice-cream castles are refrigerated;
    the super-marketeers are on parade.

    There's a golden handshake hanging round your neck,
    as you light your cigarette on the burning deck.
    And you balance your world on the tip of your nose
    like a SeaLion with a ball, at the carnival.

    You wear a shiny skin and a funny hat
    the Almighty Animal Trainer lets it go at that.
    You bark ever-so-slightly at the Trainer's gun,
    with you whiskers melting in the noon-day sun.
    You flip and you flop under the Big White Top
    where the long-legged ring-mistress starts and stops.

    But you know, after all, the act is wearing thin
    as the crowd grows uneasy and the boos begin.
    But you balance your world on the tip of your nose
    you're a SeaLion with a ball at the carnival.

    Just a trace of pride upon our fixed grins
    for there is no business like the show we're in.
    There is no reason, no rhyme, no right
    to leave the circus `til we've said good-night.
    The same performance, in the same old way;
    it's the same old story to this Passion Play.

    So we'll shoot the moon, and hope to call the tune
    and make no pin cushion of this big balloon.
    Look how we balance the world on the tips of our noses,
    like SeaLions with a ball at the carnival.