Details
- Last Login
- 11/29/2009 10:45 am
- Total Posts
- 141
- Posts Per Day
- 0.02
- Member Since
- 04/22/2006
- Location
- hippie place in oregon
- Gender
- Female
About
i like alot of bands
Cannible Corpse
Iron Maiden
Megadeth
Anthrax
Iced Earth
strapping young lad
Napalm Death
A Perfect Circle
Aerosmith
Alanis Morissette
Avenged Sevenfold
Ben harper
Arch Enemy
Daft Punk
Sepultura
Bob Marley
Garth Brooks
CCR
Crossfade
Three Days Grace
Fuel
Hypocrisy
Heart
Hinder
Godsmacked
Korn
The Offspring
Lamb of God
Motorhead
Mudvayne
Nirvana
Nickleback and many many more... but my top bands that i love are Marilyn Manson, Ani Difranco, Modest Mouse, Tool and Ben Harper i the genres of metal, rock, folk, jazz, classicle, reagge and some counry.
i love music, i play the violin, conga drums, piano, guitar, tenor sax and the clarinet. i play in an orchestras. I'm in the YSSO program. i'm in the band and jazz band at my school. i can play acustic guitar and i'm starting on lead just recently. I'm just starting to learn the bass guitar.
Tool
Vicarious
by Tool
Eye on the the TV
'Cause tragedy thrills me
Whatever flavor it happens to be, like...
"Killed by the husband"
"Drowned by the ocean"
"Shot by his own son"
"She used a poison
in his tea...kissed him goodbye"
that's my kind of story
It's no fun 'til someone dies
Don't look at me like
I am a monster
Frown out your one face
But with the other
Stare like a junkie
Into the TV
Stare like a zombie
While the mother holds her child
Watches him die
Hands to the sky crying,
"Why, oh why?"
Cause I need to watch things die... from a distance
Vicariously I live while the whole world dies
You all need it too, don't lie!
Why can't we just admit it?
Why can't we just admit it?
We won't give pause until the blood is flowing
Neither the brave nor bold
are right as the story's told
We won't give pause until the blood is flowing
I need to watch things die... from a good safe distance
Vicariously I live while the whole world dies
You all feel the same, so...
Why can't we just admit it?
Blood like rain falling down
DRUM ON brave and proud
Part vampire
Part warrior
Carnivore and Voyuer
Stare at the transmittal
Sing to the death rattle
La, la, la, la, la, la-la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la-la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la-la-lie
La, la, la, la, la, la-la-lie..
Credulous at best
Your desire to believe in
Angels in the hearts of men
But pull your head on out
your head please, and give a listen
Shouldn't have to say it all again
The universe is hostile, so impersonal
Devour to survive... so it is, so it's always been
We all feed on tragedy
It's like blood to a vampire
Vicariously I live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I
"Not A Pretty Girl"
by Ani Difracno
I am not a pretty girl
that is not what I do
I ain't no damsel in distess
and I don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere
I am not an angry girl
but it seems like I've got everyone fooled
every time I say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling
and I am sorry
I am not a maiden fair
and I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere
and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally I agree with them
trouble is you gotta have youself an alternate plan
and I have earned my disillusionment
I have been working all of my life
and I am a patriot
I have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if I knew that and I called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up
I am not a pretty girl
I don't want to be a pretty girl
no I want to be more than a pretty girl
mairlyn manson
Lamb of God
Marilyn Manson
There was crust in the metal shell
There was blood on the pavement
The camera will make you God
That's how Jack became sainted
If you die when there's no one watching
and your ratings drop and you're forgotten
If they kill you on their TV
You're a martyr and the lamb of God
Nothing's going to change
Nothing's going to change the world
There was Lennon and the happy gun
There were words? on the pavement
We were looking for the lamb of God
We were looking for Mark David
If you die when there's no one watching
and your ratings drop and you're forgotten
If they kill you on their TV
You're a martyr and the lamb of God
Nothing's going to change the world
Nothing's going to change
Nothing's going to change the world
Nothing's going to change the world
It took three days for him to die
The born again to buy the serial rights
Lamb of God have mercy on us
A lamb of God, will you dread us?
Nothing's going to change the world
Nothing's going to change(4x)
Nothing's going to change the world
Nothing's going to change the world
If you die when there's no one watching
and your ratings drop and you're forgotten
If they kill you on their TV
You're a martyr and a lamb of God
Nothing's going to change the world
The Raven
by Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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