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Topic ClosedCreate a prog song - one verse or line at a time
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AtomicCrimsonRush View Drop Down
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Points: 14258 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 12 2010 at 09:52
A Plague of LightLunch Eaters
 
Still waiting for my flavour
I tear the chicken limb from limb
I am a prophet who is
going to eat his folooweeeeeeeeeeeeeer
 
I sit alone and hungry
awaiting this one meal
now I am eating bread and
I am about to eat the veeeeeeeeeal
 
i am a man who can smell bread
I move to the fridge and
begin to spreaaaaaaaaaaaad
 
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
 

I prophesy a fast and then I count the calories....
I dine but, dining, dying,
I know that I am almost obese.
On the table lies an empty plate, my chicken to the bone
I only have blunt knives, I only have the bluntest spooooooooooooooon....

 

I've been the eater, and the seal of spread
lingers in the butter that is on my bread.
When you see the skeletons of a lifeless thin body I know
You'll begin to wonder if the diet you are on is working at all
and solemnly connected to the
maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall...

 


No time now for nutrition
you must eat all junk food
The walls of your stomach are awaiting
and if I weigh I'll crack the scales.
So I only think on how my weight has gained,
looking at my reflection, myself to blaaaaaaaaaaame


Anyway, I'm much too heavy to stand
and, as the scales are thrown away
into the trash can, I turn on the fan....
...and find that I am overweight...
 


'More veal, More veal!' overweight man screamed
and opened the fridge to find,
bread, jam, butter, milk, chicken drumsticks...
no steaks until I die:
the chocolate ice cream in the freezer
iceblocks, condensed tins
only intent on consuming what you’ve got.


I crawl away on the dusty floor till I cower to the stairs and then l fall;

(someone finish this) 


Edited by AtomicCrimsonRush - May 12 2010 at 10:13
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refugee View Drop Down
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Points: 7026 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 11 2010 at 12:23
[^^ good work with Arrow, Loek Clap. You inspired me to make my own version. Only one stanza, mainly based on the first part of the song; but I think it says it all.]

Club Sandwich in the distance,
waiters cross the parquet floor,
ignoring my question.
Fickle promises of eating, 
while I try my luck once more, futile digestion.
Food gets cold, that is sure. This mad place,
my urge is getting worse from fruitless food-chase.
I guess my order is forgotten.
What a crawl! This lazy dope,
this stupid armadillo,
— all day long to the chilling night,
he’s resting on his PILLOOOOOOOW!!!

[Angry sax]

How slow the time seems,
I want to pay my bill now.
We know where the waiter is,
he’s resting on his PILLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!



Edited by refugee - May 11 2010 at 12:29
He say nothing is quite what it seems;
I say nothing is nothing
(Peter Hammill)
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Points: 24618 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 10 2010 at 10:22
Sh*t tracks are all that's left to be seen
Of a gnome who exits the scope of this dream.


Edited by someone_else - May 10 2010 at 10:22
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Points: 15141 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 09 2010 at 11:56
Part IV (just a guess that is): Gnome (From Godbluff):

Stub gnomes in the distance,
whining ‘cross the blasted moor
against the horizon.
Fickle promises of treaty,
bearded harbingers of war, fungal orisons. 
Turn around in your gown, this mad place,
these gnomes perverting the once pretty landscape
until its meaning is forgotten.
Beards mask their evil face, skin stretched and sallow,
headlong into the chilling night, pointy hats control the gallows.

Feet against the grasslands,
fingers scrabbling at the cock,
craving affection.
‘Sanctuary!” croaks a voice,
like a turd plunging deep into the toilet. 
Shot the bolt through its hat, crumbled the peace;
now the echoes of all silent apathy
fade in the whining. 
What a gnome would do such thing? Take him to the gallows.
Feed him feces of other gnomes, how swiftly will he vomit. 

“Compassion” he pleads, 
as though they kept it in a box - 
that’s full of midget-warthogs. 
I’d like to help you somehow,
but I’m in the self-same spot,
says another foolish traitor.
We are all like the bum, on his knees;
crapping against the walls of all eternity
amidst the foolish crowd.
How long it seems, how brown this butthole,
how straight the eagle flies, how straight into the tunnel.
How long the flight is - why is this passage so narrow?
How strange its body feels, surrounded by these feces. 
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Points: 7026 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 09 2010 at 10:52
T’was deep, t’was deep
Now I’ll put on my glengarry
and go off to sleep.


Edited by refugee - May 10 2010 at 03:46
He say nothing is quite what it seems;
I say nothing is nothing
(Peter Hammill)
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Points: 14258 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 09 2010 at 10:14
War with the dragon
Lay our swords to rest
War with the dragon
Now our souls are blessed
 
Oh let this moon unfold its silver wings
Take the light unto our holy rings
devestation of the earth
crowd the face of our worth
 
everytime i see her i want to go
down into the valley raging below
 
Anger is a choice
and now its found a voice
Anger is a choice
And now I have two boys
 
 
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Points: 7026 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 09 2010 at 03:38
A frippant and frivolous mouse she was
as she roamed the meternal sea
in search of a brutiful spouse, she was
as umphatic and gree as could be
He say nothing is quite what it seems;
I say nothing is nothing
(Peter Hammill)
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Points: 24618 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 08 2010 at 16:38
The Levellers:
Blood, sweat and tears really don't matter
Just the things that you do in this garden


Edited by someone_else - May 08 2010 at 16:40
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Points: 15141 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 08 2010 at 13:54
"That's my throne", he said
and he took all of the fish. 
Never in the history of man
had a gnome got such a suntan. 
Creeping in your garden, 
he plays with cats, perhaps even wombats,
he eats the bugs and snails!
Ravaging your garden when the sun goes down
innocently looking when you notice and probably frown.
And when you turn your back at him, 
he'll drop his pants but remains unseen!
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Points: 14258 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 08 2010 at 10:42
ClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClap
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Points: 24618 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 07 2010 at 10:58
Cat Choir:
The dancing couple gives the thread another spin
and bring some cheesiness right in
The usage of our teeth and claws we will suspend
To save this story from a cruel untimely end.
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Points: 14258 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 07 2010 at 10:41
This thread is dying a natural death
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Points: 7026 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 07 2010 at 05:52
Part(henon) II: The Frivolous Mouse

The constipation of this song
is far from right; it’s simply wrong.
Although they tried to kill the thread,
the bats and brats are gone and dead.
Let’s dance a merry dance instead
and sing about the frivolous mouse
who hit the cheese pie with her spouse!
He say nothing is quite what it seems;
I say nothing is nothing
(Peter Hammill)
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Points: 67448 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 06 2010 at 16:14
You should see the back covers of the Tangerine Dream remasters. Pinch
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Points: 15141 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 06 2010 at 16:12
I back cover of my copy of In Camera actually sais Go instead of Gog, HILARIOUS!!!! Stern Smile

Edited by The Sleepwalker - May 06 2010 at 16:13
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Points: 24618 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 06 2010 at 16:06
A louse may have a home
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Points: 15141 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 06 2010 at 12:37
Even in your recently cut hair!
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Points: 67448 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 06 2010 at 10:35
Here, there, and everywhere . . .
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Points: 14258 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 06 2010 at 08:53
Yikes they are here too..................
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Points: 67448 		Direct Link To This Post Posted: May 04 2010 at 17:40
It's the truth and you know it. Stern Smile
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