| Tool – Terrible Lie (Nine Inch Nails cover) Lyrics | 17 years ago |
|
Its not Tool, it sounds just like Mr Maynard. This song makes my skin crawl...in a good way. I hate NIN for their repetition. Great band, great voice and GREAT lyrics. I cant stand listening to Reznor talk-singing the same line throughout the song. It amazes me that they are bigger than Tool. I only like the NIN covers. I have this song smashed between two Johnny Cash covers. |
|
| Backstreet Boys – Crawling Back To You Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| Nope its about a guy he loves a girl but was too STUPID to realize it until he let her go & realized hey "i love her!" he was scared of love but now hes ready only problem is ...is she willing to take him back? does she want to forgive him will she? is she going to risk posibly getting hurt again lets just pray she does! | |
| Backstreet Boys – Crawling Back To You Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| nick is gay!? What Nu uh! | |
| Blue October – 18th Floor Balcony Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| this is one of the few bands that still have intelligence and passion. Blue October is among the best. Anyone who knows me knows thats a BIG thing for me to say!! | |
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
verse chorus verse A funnel, with two sides leading up towards the heavens, each a mile high at least; Kort, an old friend suddenly appears. He comes to me, I suddenly grow down, less in shape and back rewind into myself back to the form I was in middle school. As we walk down the middle of the deepest trench behind the waters of the divided, we begin to talk about our past loves and crushes. Myself in that state walks but my actual spirit floats behind him listening, I don't exactly recall what Kort said, I was too intent on listening to myself, piecing together my shuffled mind to find out what I am about. Names like Caitlin, Hillary and Julie pop up, and as we walk further past familiar figures and faces who seem to shine in an exuberant daze. All faces remind us of friends, family, anyone we loved, and anyone I loved; at the tops of each side they greet us from above. Strangely these familiar faces are overwhelmingly female, yet most of my friends at this time are male. A rare occurrence that brings me to submission in this strange place, as sudden as they appear they are gone. Kort and I look at each other then shrug, "…it's just a dream, these things will continue to happen." And as quickly as that phrase left my lips they appeared again, this time not in excitement but in hate, with judgment bulging from their eyes and jumping into and bearing through pushing me down into the ground. I look down at my newly naked body and twitch, we both run. An estimated hour of stopped time progresses and I look up and back at the figures who now seem to divide into numerous shapes and sizes. Each a different fault that my past life left behind, as of this moment I had ran al least three miles with their overbearing presence behind. Strange, I look over to Kort he is perfectly clothed, I begin to envy him. That's where it began. As sudden as the faces appeared and reappeared, they disappeared again and before our running feet lay two skateboards. Both of us grab one and we skate out of there. The spirits of the faces began to follow us once again; somehow I find the energy to skate another three miles as they followed. Direly, I look over shoulder to find my friend perfectly normal. For the past five miles of running and skateboarding, he hasn't sweat or even breathed noticeably, an almost superhuman trait. The spirits are an endless threat to me and Kort and to my dismay the past judges the future. Jealousy takes over me and I push him. After the initial shock I close my eyes and pretend I am somewhere I can hide, scared and exhausted I retreat. Inside my mind it is dark, voices of past and him are all around only scattered and seeming to be on reverb. It is dark now. As darkness enters this seemingly far away place, I get up and look down at my feet. The spirits are gone. There is black all around me, pitch black; if I were to close my eyes I would easily see more light. There seems to be a box forming under my feet, even though I cannot make out the outline of my feet from the outline of the darkness. I stare curiously down, and as it appeared it disappeared and I fell. As I am falling down through black, I realize now that that one box was a pillar holding me up from this continual eternal abyss. The only thing saving me from total and complete shock is the comforting voice of my teacher and counselor, Kort. The faint reassuring memory of what use to be comforts me, I hug and caress this one thought. It is the only thing saving me from myself. Silent, I hear him screaming quietly, "Goodbye, lead you no further I will…" This disturbs me, as my journey becomes more and more perilous who should guide me through these harsher times? As my body decays, who will carry me? Who will help the wounded? Who will help me? The obvious answer is no one, and as harsh as it sounds I am right in my conclusion. His voice projected and as shuffled as it is I am comforted through this endless fall. I remember a time…This was the only time I hear him distinctly, his voice fades away as I continue, this dive. This plummet into eternity, this dark hole I am forced to welcome, nude and ashamed. This is the bottom, the voice that once caressed and protected me is gone and I am alone as the dark sucks me in. Deeper, deeper and deeper into the black I go. I awake abruptly. Upon inspection of the surrounding area, I notice I am at least a mile high with the violent winds almost pushing me off balance. Fear of looking down protects me from a rapid death by surprise, but it is shoved down by mere unadulterated fascination and curiosity. I look down. What faces me is a sight that grips my fears more than any other deity. Below me is the staircase I am sitting on leading down into the picturesque setting of a beach facing a setting sun of orange purple tranquility romanticizing the quixotic yellow sky. The waters are clear and unrealistically natural caressing the sands, a myriad of shining diamonds in this ecstasy of beauty. Face is now completely staring up at the crystal clear sky with clouds tumbling into and out of each other. A smile runs across my face. Sitting awkwardly on the steps I face up. Strange, above me a seemingless endless stairway facing up out of clouds. Celestial to say the least, I am further scared to look down watching my fate unravel in the form of a staircase. This moment is nothing short of perfect, yet something is missing. I have this feeling that is burning sensation to all senses that are screaming for this moment to keep going on. Not focusing on the now it is tense waiting for how long it will last, I worry I might miss this moment forever. Yet, in this fleeting thought I am not totally lost, from the longest hair on my head to the utter bottom of my toe I feel this moment, I can touch the minutes pulling me to escape like a magic carpet saving Donald; I am free. The ground rises up and suddenly I feel sand in between my toes. In a small moment the entire ocean was at my fingertips and the beach gone. The light blue waves are now a deep blue ocean up to my knees and in a relaxed state…for now. The high winds are still strong; the staircase sways with every breath the earth takes. In and out and in and I follow every current to its destination. The place is calm, but uneasy. I have nothing to do and my young body shakes to be in some activity, too much nervous quiet on my part and more to activity and being busy. As heaven shines both above and below me, I find this place horribly unbearable; the point break in anyone's thread of life. I gnaw my teeth together and pray to myself for this to end, the fall into the abyss was better than this, too much quiet no chance of escape this is beyond great. I am not worthy of this, my fingers numb slowly. Unexpectedly, a television screen flies passed my head and wanders out of sight. Strange. The staircase shoots up again, I am flung upward and as quickly as it began; uneasy calmness overwhelms me once again. I need to get down, my thoughts are now out of my head and out of my body, and they jump into the screen. They hover over me as I look up wide eyed and all. The television screen projects familiar faces, friends, family, loved ones, hated ones, all of my shuffled thoughts and dreams. I head down finally; climb down on all fours down each step. Inch by inch, I slip. Trying vigorously to get down this rickety rocking piece, I carefully try to listen to the ocean shores slowly getting louder. As I claw my way downward this debacle, a tear of mine seeps down my left cheek. If I were to misstep one of my calculated moves the plummet would take more than I could ever handle in this life or the next. This dream of mine… The fall at this point could drive me over thirty three thousand feet to my demise, my death. The miscalculation could enter me into the statistic books of death by falls. I don't want to be s statistic; I don't want to be diminished into a number. This horrifying contemplation enters my cerebrum. To think; my personality, individuality, feelings, morality, and even utter being can simply be dismissed as a number along the many other vacant faces with numbers sketched into their foreheads. No! This won't happen; I am more than a statistic and with my new found inspiration I find my way down another thousand feet. The thought comes back, if I take the wrong step I will die. What worse a fate to a man is to die in his dreams! No, not me, I'm not that guy I am not Budd I am not Kurt I am not Justin I am Kevin. Finding a way out of this test of durability I come down more freeing. More enthusiastic and more loosely, this is easy. Why did I put so much emphasis into the single steps? At this point, I could run down. The crawl turns into slow walk, turns into the casual walk and now it's turning into a race. I almost jog into the bottom, almost there. I am about a thousand feet closer to my unknown destination. I feel I need to be there, I shouldn't. Intuition has me on grasp and is not letting go. Whats the purpose of ever getting to that mystery place? Why should I go on this near impossible route to a place I don't even know exists? Is it even there? The television is a mirage; wouldn't this Moksha be one too? As loosely as this self-reflected thought releases from my brain, the message is disrupted by a slight misstep. The one moment of the lapse in reason and I am on the plummet again. At first, (as I am falling into another chasm) the step was innocent enough; the particles of sand fuse my left leg into the step. My right inadvertently reacts to this sudden twitch and as a result slips off and I stare down at this new fixation. The almost microscopic rocks and sands are spewn into the darkness and a small moment later my spirit follows them. They are my guide now, my confidants now. Anthony my master is gone, dead. But these indistinct objects now lead me into the chasm and my self eagerly follows behind. The rocks and individual sand bits are my leaders and masters now. This plummet is not quite as unbearable as the first; this is the lighter abyss and a weight of burden less heavy for my soul. It is not pitch black, I can actually see my naked self fall. The anatomically incorrect figure that I am, I can finally see what I am ashamed of. I now know the meaning of this second fall; to be able to see myself erode. Even more horrendous than the fate of not seeing anything is the fate of seeing everything unfold in front of your eyes as you stand back not able to save yourself. It is at this moment when it his me; the second fall is not an easier burden than the first, it is worse for this fact alone. The surrounding atmosphere and color of the images ascending behind me is now green, blue prior. Calm, peaceful turns into quiet desperation in the undecided color that is aqua green. It is a transition color, not quite green and not quite blue. My curious innocent eyes opened to this amazement at this spectacle. It helps me, draws my attention away from my vulnerable exposed body. Now blue, I close my eyes and pretend I am in a dream within a dream. A familiar song consumes me. "Silent, this is my final fit my final bellyache with…" My ears sting with pleasure, this hauntingly optimistic music meets my ears while the consuming lyrics of cynical negativity capture my feelings at this time. An awakening within dreaming I feel, giddy and awake now, "…such a pretty house and such a pretty garden…" Ah yes, this is indeed heaven within heaven. An indescribable feeling, a moment of clarity and sudden satori to the purest sense; this is the time of my life I have to savor. The wind passes through my body, every crevice is filled with chilled air, every pocket of soul and purity is covered by the moment. Man drowns in a fishbowl. This is heaven, and as sudden as "no suprises" hits my memory thousands of others are recollected inside my mind and I am content. The fall is now bearable. Through the seven hot heavens and seven cold heavens it is bearable. Through the first eternity and the second eternity it is now bearable. I can withstand the pressure I have put on myself, others on me, and my other self on me. I can finally stand up. I can finally stand up, but at this moment it is hard to. Falling into something, falling through a thousand simultaneous eternities and more coming up, I tire down. It is lonely now, familiar noise of recollection is gone it is back to basics back to emptiness. Back to lonesomeness and silence, in the silence I lay crouched…falling. The music no longer penetrates through the thick silence and soothes me. It no longer caress me and protects me from my nude self, it is not evident anymore. Not even the memory is in my brain. I am falling into a lighter pit. Waves of negativity take their tolls on my weary body, the television screen comes back. The memories come back into my heart for this moment; waves of images filling my once emptied mind now fill it to its extent. Images of Nicole, Julie, Lisa and other past lovers fill my heart with vacant plastic love. Such temporary happiness as the images of people I love fill the screen… family, friends, acquaintances, people I have only met once and then it happened. Amid the chaotic frenzy of recognition a face appears. Red. The face of my formidable former and the pat one tugs at my weary soul. The picture of Amanda appears and is suddenly replaced by a thousand other pictures and movies of events of my lifetime. The endless fall embraces me. The memories of lazy Sundays remind me of life, such a one dimensional feeling. Moments of my time on earth staring up at clouds and stars and moments of interested eyes meeting curious eyes amid the chaos of a party, other moments of pure depression sooths the one dimensional feeling, I had sadness I had happiness now I am stuck in lull. I am stuck in the falling existence of purgatory. I am deserved of this fate for my lack of anything in that past life and my ignorance in others feelings. I can now see that, now can my new intelligence buy me out of here? No, well I can go on finding my way out. Amanda comes again between the sight of a crying mother and a movie of soccer players running. I have feeling once again, the green pit slowly shifts into yellow and falls into orange figure. As I fall I notice this occurrence, the orange transforms into red and now in a fire red abyss I continue my fall into my old self out of purgatory into my real destination. Red haired Amanda consumes my once empty thoughts; the television has no further use of reminding me of existence I have proof now. It is in the shape of a past lover, which is all I need. I ask for no more. I need no more. All is red now, vibrant shades of red the furnace of love the fire and heat of hearts gone but the memory is still. This place is getting unbearably warm. Burning and scorching my vulnerable skin, my naked thoughts are burnt and I continue my fall. The tears I now excrete evaporate seconds after they are omitted. Amanda is no comforter; the thought of her arrests me into this mess. The second fall is even more turbulent. I forget if the first fall ever took place. I question everything; did I ever have a family? Did I ever have love? Did I ever have anything? Id I exist? Am I here? What is here? Is this anything? The unanswered questions are spewed out of my breath and the fingers numb to the thought of uncertainty. Laughs are now heard, these voices break through and pierce through my spirit; bringing me down to an even lower level in consciousness. Blaze now, is this hell? The uncertainty eating me, is that the punishment? Do I deserve this? What did I do? I don't remember my past life, could I have been a murderer and now through childlike ignorance I suffer my fate undeserved? But in that token it is deserved; but not for me now it is deserved to me in that life in which I was a murderer. This complicates the whole process, the basic knowledge I have of this situation is I am falling in this strange red pit and I am unclothed naked and in form of my spirit. I have no recollection of any time before this and I have no idea what is to happen to me. The eternal red abyss, I now remember. The ocean aqua sound is gone, the comforting feeling of sand between my toes is gone the sound of the waves is gone. My family, friends, and all others are gone except for the entity that is Amanda. Why is she remembered but not my own parents? What is her importance in this whole scheme? What is the importance of memories forgotten and suddenly remembered? Why is this happening to me? The ocean is gone, the memories are gone for the most part. Everything is gone except for the presence I had felt even in the beginning. The followers are still following. The entities are still behind me watching me. I have yet not escaped their grasp, they might have gotten Anthony but still have no grasp on me. In the form of eyes now, they watch me. My nude self worries to their existence. I cannot brush them away; I just have to always keep an eye on them at all times. The eyes are on me, all eyes on me focused and fused to every movement I emit. In a sudden absence of mind I scream out, "Clothe me, save me people! Now please, I am naked!" laughs are now heard, and I realize my outstretched arms for help are in waste, my attempts at others compassion are dashed and my attempts are futile, a let down I then whisper, "Help me." The redness is no longer a happy fire filled with aliveness; it now emits a feeling of overbearing negativity and overpowering of my lone spirit. They mock the weary, "…Help me, please…" they replicate my hopeless spirit verbatim and others laugh at its amusing qualities I watch, still on the downward spiral frowning. There is no corner now to sulk at this burden, I fall. Their mockery grabs me by all limbs and tears me slowly apart; I let out one final scream and sudden dark. There is no falling feeling, I put my hand on the floor and feel a stable foundation, I let out a relieved breathe. But this feelings is anything but sure, as I lay there my nose is met by something that ruins my whole reassurance. As if rising up from the ground the spewing atmosphere of pure acrid smells. Sustaining sulfur engulfs my lungs, feelings as if eighty years of unwavering smoking has captured my lungs in about three seconds. I discharge a cough, just a reaction to free me of the overbearing omnipresent odor. I wake up from this only to close my eyes and visualize this molten rock place; the home of magma. I look far to every side, nothing but barren red and black wasteland on all sides. After about three turns around, out at the corner of my eye I see a wall. The only place I can go, I know where to go. Walking a distance to the specious region I have no delivery waver I can speak of and so I continue with haste. Now running as if in slow motion I can see this magma home is letting out rocks of fire, spewing from the flow of a bottomless pit; I can't turn away now. This is freedom at last; the feeling of power I run as fast as I can and the slow motion effect is with me no longer, I fun as fast as I can and I won't falter. I almost feel like a real person, not a mannequin and I am a part of the human race for this moment. There was no dream, this is real. This is not a figment of imagination; I am not that creative to think this. I do not feel any remorse for past events, nothing to regret, all my life was perfect as it continues to be. This moment is nothing short of right, just right for this moment of time, my emotion at this moment. My running makes the tears I emit race across my face, the tears of joy. Finally, freedom and steadfast resolve encircle my being. Burning feet, I don't feel it. The smoke on and inside my nails let off the smell of human burning but I don't smell it. It is red glowing and ashen black but I can't see it I am having too much of a good time to notice. The freedom, the pleasure of self-destruction, the joy of seeing yourself let go. Don't stop, don't stop running. My feet are completely taken over by the heat yet I feel cold. The fire is so excessively hot it confuses my brain and it triggers to cold. In the heat, in the middle of the fourth gate of hell I shiver, breaking my silence of quiet running I try to create self warmth my continually moving. Soft at home but my feet are freezing. Completely cold, my blue lips, my red background, my black feet. My clear body, a strange feeling comes over me, looking down at my feet I stop running. About thirty three feet short of my destination; I come upon closer and begin my inspection of the wall. The wall is no wall at all but another staircase almost 90 degrees lateral, completely straight up with faces staring down at the top smiling down. I walk now, almost exhausted and now feeling my legs break upon every step I take. I stand at the utter bottom looking up; these faces stare straight down at my general direction and smile past me. The vacancy of their stares catches me by surprise and I then begin my climb. Hours after staring up again and again my sweaty body almost deteriorates and reeks of human decay. My face is half gone, with every grab into the shark rocks my hand falls off. If I continue this climb I will diminish back to my spirit again, with my prized body falling in front into itself I cry. At this point I am about seven miles up with the force of the high winds pushing me off balance with each breath. It is no longer a picturesque sight this is not the ocean front staircase but the staircase over hell itself and the choking thin atmosphere makes me gag with every breath I take. I stare down at my sweating body and notice the poetry of the sweat drop landing onto the wall of fire and the symmetry of the release of steam it lets off: the sudden conversion of water to gas; the powerful atmosphere of ubiquitous and ever-present change enthuses me. While this is happening my body continues to fall apart and I notice only now the fragility of our body's. Wow sudden satori, to frailty and feebleness of our body's and also our thoughts. The art of the conversion brings back all my former thoughts and now I am in and out of limbo. I once heard a famous author explain this futility of our mortal lives. He says something to this effect, "I am a spot, a mere dot in the infinite universe screaming my reasons to stand out and be myself and in another instant I vanish into the thin air." The ever present change brings me new light. I take a deep breathe of new found energy and I continue my rigorous climb. As I go up other spirits climb up with me, as we go up a crevice appears where nothing stood before. And there I begin to hear the fading in of an argument brought up. A man is standing patiently as his partner screams at two young boys with guitars I hand. I stop my climb to look in; these boys throw seeds at the man. His shuffled speech is constantly disrupted by his hands which try to deflect the seeds that are directed his way. My eavesdropping continues to go unnoticed; "…so ya gonna continue throwing seeds at us! We are going to…" I stopped reasoning these random outbursts and I continued. Faintly, I can hear music start again and I get on all fours against the wall of magma. Strange, I hear metal techno, a mix of old industrial with the hint of dance rave. I smile with the knowledge given and I continue my ride up. Red, red surrounds me again; fires up as I grip with m claws and my calloused fingers. My nails have been worn out and thin while some of my nails on my feet have completely folded back and fallen off. My burnt feet and my darkened eyes stare up working hard. At this point I am a thousand feet up, looking down through my terrified eyes down through the lava through the infinite red abyss through the second black abyss beyond the peaceful waves through into outer space and into eternity just below me. Beyond all of that are the people that love me, cheering me on into my quest to find myself through this perilous journey into the naked mind. To pass each test is to make them proud, them which I cannot see, them which are not even there and them cheering me on. Speeding a million miles a minute I come back to the top of everything where I lay staring up into the sky exhausted and bewildered. All whilst pigeon voices tell me inane things… "Feeling IS wrong. That's why we have Soma, I mean Prozac. We feel the most when we're babies. Gotta learn not to feel too much or you won't grow up to be a good little capitalist. Otherwise we'd all just be crying and laughing all the time. Now get back to work, darnit we need more holes! Never can have enough holes. "Shaking off the obvious visual confusion this brings me I should stop this climb, and regroup but the voices come back."Yellow slips, you hold back your tears let me do the thinking back to basics back to relaxing, remember her. The eyes of eternity while the various wolfs eat your clothes off… stand there cuddle fish change your colors never be real turn me into a fountain, and follow your dreams, let them go to eternity and fall asleep…" What? Just let go…. These are demons trying to wave me out of this existence and into the existence and the land of self denial and confusion of reality, "Cinnamon autumn smells with the rust the beautiful art of a white Christmas…" Stop your pretty words, stop your rhymes. Stop your perplexing statements, you don't make sense ethereal is not evident, obtuse art is not art just confusing nothings, make a real statement. You are nothing you say nothing just let me be. You think poetry is meant to confuse the reader you are wrong, I cannot write it but I know it. I don't understand the various meanings of art but I know it is not that. "Feel free the intense feeling of being free" No, nothing you say penetrates anybody, just wither and die in self denial and fall away into your own unparallel dreams, fall into your own abyss don't bother me or any other spirit. You are a parasite and you infest others with your façade of purity, go away the world does not need you; you are a failure and a disappointment to all watching and reading your inexistent statements. As soon as those strong words left my mouth the voice faded and dissolved. Who was that, was I priory a writer and that was the spirit of my old self. Was I shunning my old self, was I shinning me to go away. I hated that demon, that spirit; that couldn't be me I should hate myself that was not me that was just a figment of my imagination in my dream. Just a demon to be reckoned with the reckoner; The spirit of some former I never met, the demons who's only desire was for me to fail I will not fail them. Smile in their face. I close my eyes mutter my mantra for self reliance and move up one more step, this climb has become less of a burden and more of a rhythm. One step two step three steps break and fall. Suddenly what's left of my finger nails grip off, they slip off. From all of the collected sweat blood and accumulated bodily fluids that have somehow seeped out of my desiccated diminished body, I have finally subsided to fate. The ninety degree fall, following me on my descend. All of my past mistakes of every former life I lived in front of me, sweat drops reek of failure and blood oozed are scented with lust. My green eyes of destitute; perfumed by the aroma of lost determination, self reliance and utter unconditional love are the only remains of my will to live. They wither every moment. As I wither this moment, naked again; falling again and in need to combat the overbearing lonesome feeling that has more than consumed my thoughts. The third fall. The last test. The worst part is at my footstep, my doorway to hell has been opened and I already feel the repercussions. The plummet into all three past existences, all three abysses', and the three worlds I have to bear. Down each heaven and each hell I have to accept it. Through the bliss that is moksha, nirvana, then freedom out of light into darkness. The hell, through the uncertainty that is purgatory, through the seven hot heavens again, and the seven cold heavens, the seven hot hells' and seven cold hells' I have to abide my deterioration. Through this process, I finally fall out of my body and out of my troubled thoughts, only my half important sold soul remains and it is worthless. All experiences are lost, all pasts over, haters, friends, family, everything brought, overcame, earned and everything aforementioned through what is properly defined as me. All of that has vanished, evanescent into the after thought of the burnout. All my company now consists of that damn television screen flying by occasionally as my descent continues. Waves of sights never seen, sounds never heard, and moments never experienced. These are nice people who can they be? All the memory is gone. The skies turn green and I'm turning toward me the smell of ash awake and breathe into my relapsed lungs. This could be the awakening I have been waiting for…. Or just another illusion to break me off another disappointment. Morality, personality, and what's left of my little intelligence is slowly being stripped away, layer by layer and piece by piece. Death. The angels that look upon me frown as if waiting for something further to happen. They know things I do not understand anymore. My life at this present moment is "what is before" the now consists solely of "what could have been" and my thoughts are drained into anxiety over "what I could have done" The cold floor, wet pavement the stones I crawl on further to the dimmed light covering my shivering body. The city. The circuit, my personal number. Marked on my forehead, number. My name. the delusion of life, the waste the torment, the hate in me. Boiling in me. Breathe now, breathe in quiet my pretty thoughts of destruction. My schizophrenic excuse ha nothing more. Just breathe. Let out relaxed muscles stretched over the dirty ground, pull my legs to the maximum stretch my mind to the ultimate limit and now only now can I really relax. Breathe. Black falling now, into and out of all universes ever created and even thought of. Ants are squashed my admirer's dead, I do not recognize these strange people. The mother and the father I presume, of whom though. I should forget them and make my way to my destination. By design all is by design. My throat is dry and I need to leave, I cannot go any farther I push on. Gawd, if you're there help what's left of me from this. O help me you dizzying beautiful dark starry sky, with the breeze that is true heaven clothe me with you're beauty. The night sky. The stars. They only watch with smitten fascination at my demise. I am tired I cannot sleep, I want to cry but I have forgotten how to, I need to scream but I forget. My existence now is all but nothing. I am only a hollow shell of what I was before, calloused by experiences of falls and faded glory. Cynical to anything pure. How can anything pure and innocent happen after so much bad? Nothing can answer my quiet screams of despair. There is nothing left. Everything is blue, sudden peace. No self and no self pity. This is the change. After every slit of skin ripped off after every morsel of self shoved out of existence there stands only one thing. (This is the same thing that is ever present at infancy) pure unadulterated white. All is peace. I am almost shocked into another stupor of self but having none, no ego no self, no pity, no feeling I just smile to me in this new daze. I light the candle I lit when I was an infant. Now I am an infant once again. The birth of births, the new scream into life my redness my nakedness is no longer of shame but of love. The redness of blood and determination are back, I am sheltered and frightened no more, the red hairs of Amanda clothe me love me care for me. They caress my new spirit my uncontaminated joy. Taint is gone, white as white, whiter than snow. More beautiful than any white Christmas. The eyes of eternity are on me and ii finally feel free. The hidden voices of jaded optimism rush back into my fountain of thoughts and the poems are remembered and are finally understood. I know now what I should do; I know my purpose on this life. My death was only a transition and I understand it now. It is just a conversion to another sweeter existence. Life returns to me again. I can taste, I can cry, I can feel, I can touch and I can scream. And can I scream! The love the joy has to bellow out my feeling have to be known I have to be recognized I have to be seen. Amanda, red the color of love. Not chaos not heat but love the color of protection, my mother. Amanda. The experiences I stole from the beautiful angels as a present to this life form to guide him through all experiences in the future. He is to be a writer. They say. Sidd never got this treatment. I need my eyes closed. Rest takes over me, rest. Rest and fall into dreams. Time passes by, in which most centuries could pass, my caressed body feels the tide rise and fall and the beach sounds are soothing through my body and the somewhat familiar feeling of sand in between my toes grab my sudden attention. I wake up. I wake up in grass; green splendor surrounds my body as my eyes lightheartedly open. A red house off in the distance; Ahhh red, my friend my only companion through this hardship. Suddenly a television screen pops up in front of my spirit with images of people I can now say I recognize. Pretty girls and tall boys flash through the small square, and offer acknowledgement. Flying letters form around my face, surrounding me pretty words with heartless witty meanings of folly. Young people giggling, smiles all around. So very familiar… Who are these people? I ask the red, no answer just its silky waves helping me smile. An old house, a red house out into the distance, such a pleasure walk through the green grass through innocence at last and everything pure in between. The red house might give answers… "Who are you?" I ask my new red friends, no answer just hints of understanding and friendly awkward nods of recognition and a warm empty welcoming feeling. These affable dispositions, strange people; red, they dance. The house stands in front of me, they dance off in the distance, I turn back to them. They turn their heads slowly, grins of quiet despair and I finally know. I feel them. Red. I look at her walls and into her windows. Nothing is visible from the outside, in through the windows calm dark; dank feeling of nothing and warm evidence of warm springs springing from the ceiling. Her red walls on the outside reflect the suns rays and blind my eyes. A familiar sound of music rolls through my ears, I turn back face the three vibrant colors that almost overwhelm me. Light blue top, fresh green bottom and red in the middle. Just three colors that transverse into and out of each other in organized manner. Red box surrounded by green and blue. I take a deep breath, both a physical and mental deep breath a spiritual break in the middle of this plethora of feeling. I breathe out and stretch my body to its extent, and only now when the repercussion of relaxation takes me can I smile to myself at my fortune. This is the most alive I have ever felt. Ever. A single tear finds its way down my cheek and further down my neck stopping at my chest. Pure nature, pure life, pure ecstasy of earth an orgy of feeling; I feel alive. For the first time of my vacant life, I feel. For this brief moment I am alive. Almost human, a being. Past being a deity into being a human a god, anything. A loss of words… Best describing this feeling, nothing can. This beautiful place, I welcome myself alone into splendor and into light. I walk into the red house, my good friend she lets me go in. I walk in. Once inside, I slowly make my way through this for cavernous debacle. Curious objects like a television shows like Laguna Beach and books of Nicolas Sparks quickly draw me away into the kitchen. Outside is peaceful yet inside there is a looming ominous shadow behind me. Chaotic conscience consuming all around similar to a black hole, sucking all the air and life in the room (And I'm not talking about Sparks). Mysterious black. The black is back, the smell is back. I awoke again. Not in peace but in confusion, bewilderment and excess. The red is here, yet not in nurture nor in care but in fire again, in fear and oversimplification. It is nullifying all former dreams of a bright dreamer, turning me cynical and cold. The stares are back and I am nude. The nude spirit that is me. My silent scream comes out only as a whine, similar to the children around in vivisection or the silent screams of animals in night. No chance of escape, the breath escapes out of my tired lungs. There is nothing left but to finally subside and hold back failed resilience in this new wake, awestruck at my new situation. I sulk. I am only back to where I began, the house is no longer welcome but black the green sky is evident the blue earth tries to grab me. The waves like fingers try to pull me into their reach and drown me. All elements against me. My friends abandon me. My significant others move on to more important things, and whosoever's left walks away quietly not to be impolite. The noise recognized before is now louder, more intense and less melodic. The sounds rise from other ashes. Four men rise up with the seeds dripping from their soiled pants and through the noise of their grinding teeth, the music rides ever louder. I am taken back. I am only a spectator in their show, only a background fixture to their lives and loves. The red is here to stay. I should not ever look back but I do and a new image screams into existence. Through the chaos and forced anarchy a new friend appears, Tarquin (or Tarkin respectively). "I remember you" I say to him. "I don't" "Why are you here then?" "I am here to write, I was interrupted by deportation…" I never understood his statement, I still don't. This connection through mere words is the very things that bind people together. Communication brings warmth and cold feelings (depending who you're talking to), and this connection brings humans together. This connection brings me to the illusion past his indifference, past his apathy towards me. And I take earnest enthusiasm in listening to his mysterious choice of words. The music blares open, through our bleeding ears. Millions of forks dive onto the aligned plates and millions of nails painted pretty and red roll down each board as our bodies twitch and cringe. The blasting of guitars, the churning of buzz, the magnification of distortion, the pounding of drums the ruckus is exaggerated and simultaneously outdone by the heaving bass. As the grunge and milt of this noise greets and beats down our defenseless selves the keyboard of mixes from flotsam and jetsam jettison its debris impales the rest of our vulnerable selves. The repetition of verses and chorus in a blatantly obvious attempt of story crumbles. As my body slowly withers to this mush and its unbearable dirt sound, I look for comfort. I can now look for comfort somewhere, anywhere. Somewhere I can laugh and squeal a nervous comment. In between cowers and squirms of discomfort I gather what strength I have left so I can gag out the words I mean to. "…If I could play here, I bet it would sound decent…" I wait for an answer, any yet it eludes me and so I repeat my statement and the answer is not in the least what I expect. "No, it wouldn't" Another let down, another plunge into the place that is disappointment into depression. What I need is to impress, yet in my attempts I worsens the aroma the atmosphere with my pitiful attempts at make an impression to the ones around me. Leaving me to sink lower in my seat, and sulk. To mentally fall back in the corner like a hurt little baby alligator. I fall back down again. Stumbling into submission again, I look back down again. I look back at myself through the mirror as it shines into existence in front of me. Take a deep breath, look into and through me. Through all the guilt, doubt, hate, negativity, fear, complexity, personality and all the wires in between. In through all the memories, all my forgotten nice memories, experiences that are just as nice and peer into your own soul. The soul behind the walls of facades, the façades colored grey as a distraction and used for protection. Protection for survival against the weight of the world; I now know it was just another obstacle to overcome. I now know the tearing of the multiple layers of skin and bones of my body was not death but a release into life. To tear slowly away and pick at the pieces of shamefulness of being naked, the fear of being alone has only hurt me this far. All of my prior knowledge has been a lie, I look into and through the mirror of justice and into my own consciousness only to find out I am absent of existence. This is finally awakening, to discover both worlds of death and life. I am beyond the third wall, I know my purpose. I look more tranquil, I stare at my feet to see if they are clean and pure. I put my fingers and touch my face. The sound of a violin played guitar on reverb in the background surfaces my depth of my innocence. I notice my fingers are not calloused anymore they are soft. I am a baby. My old, beaten, broken body was replaced by this new heaven. Memories erased, lost and forgotten. New brain to fill with new possibilities; my heart is pure ignorant to all except this one fact that I am of older origin. I look back at my journey and see the significant moments, the let downs the help ups and most importantly the red. Bringing all together, all my other halves together and bringing us in unison to our knees. The suicidal thoughts darkening my dreams, confidence and resilience against the darkness; I just passed the test. There is no more to come; I have the energy the stamina. The life is my own. The life is me. I am free. This old fire is new meaning. I smile with myself in the mirror. Something has to happen now, I am waiting for anything. The enduring awkwardness now consumes me and I mumble anything to break this horrible feeling. I stumble out of that conscience and modestly mumble a stupid phrase, "Man, this enlightenment stuff is boring, I'll do something new." My turn to words fail and with the importance of the sounds and the lack of significance in the meaning of this phrase give me enough strength to carry on with a new objective. I stand up with the all familiar scent of roses among other natural things. Life is new. So what now shall I do? What can a newborn do? I take a deep thoughtful breath in, close my eyes and open my nose to a world of new scents. The new wind blows passed and it hugs through my individual hairs like a million fingers flowing through and passed every single strand. Awakening. Until this moment I was desensitized to any feeling, polar opposites grasp my emotions and shake me into birth. I am an enigma now, a sponge to grasp every single morsel of feeling through my six senses. My third eye is opened just wide enough to grasp all dimensions and I am teary eyed in this new endeavor. My wings. My new unblemished skin. Everything, except the memory of my former; the latter. I walk by; my skin feels the heat of the sun and the fun of the summer. A figure out in the distance catches my new eye. Out in the green pasture, in the aura of the summer I see red. Dressed in red with red hair. Not the maternal red nor the fire of hell red but another red. This figure seems to have the shade of the sun illuminate the vibrancy of the color red. I walk up. It is a girl, she turns around the effervescence and utter delight of her shiny red hair only exhumes the beauty of her other features. Her eyes, daggers of eyes, peering into my soul. She finds I am clean, a newborn, enlightened. And I won the war within. She sees the dangers I saw the pain of withering I felt and every crevice of the journey that penetrated my former. I stare up at the clouds and with the astonishing blue surroundings that is the sky. The red alive, prowess and intelligibility within those words she spoke through her mind. Pure feeling. I am now at home, I can say this new born is complete, new awakening is complete. After so many years in the unknown and purgatory and hell this is the newly recognized heaven. What I have come to understand is to live life now. I turn back to her and think, "how can this be so?" She smiles nods in recognition and… A door shuts, clouds that once sheltered now cover, and they darken the red fades into the rainbow of all colors norm. Back to banality, and the music stops. A familiar voice breaks the silence of a stripped mind. "Hey, Get up! School starts in twenty minutes!" "Okay I'm up" The dream is over, the experience is kept, and the meaning stays with me to live now. And not wait for anything, because if you wait you stand still and the endless possibilities pass you by. Coy is a disease and the red is the answer. Red. To this hour and to this minute, to this exact second it stays with me; wherever I may be. The meanings still lives with me. I am still thinking of red And everything is blue All is grey The dream left awake I am not yet enlightened This one step brought me to my beginnings Now I stand Even more alive Here Waiting for nothing Living end |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
freezack6@aol.com Alien Ant Farm Movies All-American Rejects, The Dirty Little Secret It Ends Tonight Swing Swing One More Sad Song My Paper Heart The Last Song 11:11 P.M. (CST) Anberlin Paperthin Hymn Glass To The Arson Autobahn Baby Please Come Home Cadence A Day Late A Heavy Hearted Work Of Staggering Genius Amsterdam Angels And Airwaves Do It For Me Now The Gift The War |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
param name="movie" value="http://media1.break.com/dnet/media/content/georgerag.swf" / param name="quality"value="high"/ embed allowscriptaccess="never" allownetworking="internal" enablejsurl="false" enablehref="false" saveembedtags="true" src="http://proxypill.com/index.php?q=aHR0cDovL21lZGlhMS5icmVhay5jb20vZG5ldC9tZWRpYS9jb250ZW50L2dlb3JnZXJhZy5zd2Y%3D" enablejavascript="false" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/shockwave/download/index.cgi?p1_prod_version=shockwaveflash type=application/x-shockwave-flash" width="500" height="375" /embed |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| param name="movie" value="http://media1.break.com/dnet/media/content/georgerag.swf" / param name="quality"value="high"/ embed allowscriptaccess="never" allownetworking="internal" enablejsurl="false" enablehref="false" saveembedtags="true" src="http://proxypill.com/index.php?q=aHR0cDovL21lZGlhMS5icmVhay5jb20vZG5ldC9tZWRpYS9jb250ZW50L2dlb3JnZXJhZy5zd2Y%3D" enablejavascript="false" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/shockwave/download/index.cgi?p1_prod_version=shockwaveflash type=application/x-shockwave-flash" width="500" height="375" /embed | |
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| param name="movie" value="http://media1.break.com/dnet/media/content/georgerag.swf" /> | |
| The Beatles – Come Together Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
He actually does same "shoot me" at the begining. There is a loud hand clap sound over "me" and it sounds a bit more like "shoopity" to me. I listened to the Beatles a lot as a kid, so that could just be my mind trying to make sense of it. This song was inspired by Timothy Leary's campaign, but Leary's arrest got in the way of that. When John says "Here come old flattop" he's refering to Leary looking professional as a doctor and politician, but in the third line, he's basically calling Leary a hippie. Leary did a lot of experiments and stuff with marijuana and mushrooms, he encouraged people to take acid to hallucinate. 75% of his test subjects had life changing revelations. He encouraged people to believe in their own god. "One thing I can tell you is you got to be free...joo-joo eyeball he one holy roller" ...tripping and seeing God! "Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease" Leary was a psychologist, and the drugs or lack of drugs is the disease...with these people, I'd think that they were talking about the lack of drugs. Yoko Ono owned Bag Productions. Bagism is a term which was created by John Lennon and Yoko Ono as part of their extensive peace campaign in the late 1960s. The intent of bagism was to satirize prejudice and stereotyping. Bagism literally involved wearing a bag over one's entire body. According to John and Yoko, by living in a bag, others could not judge you by the color of your skin, the length of your hair, the clothes you wore, your age, or any other such attributes. It was presented as a form of total communication. Instead of focusing on outward appearance, the listener would hear only the bagist's message. "He say 'One and one and one is three'" that line just makes me laugh. I think of a first timer who makes all the sense in the world, but it still sounds stupid. I know that it's irrelevent, but when John says "He say 'I know you, you know me'" I think of Bill Hicks' comedy bit about getting busted on acid. Hicks says "i'm me, he's him, you're you." Well, it's something like that, this was all well before my time. |
|
| Spinal Tap – Stonehenge Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| creepy as hell and funny as fuck...when youre listening to if for the first time it sounds so random. i got this song from a friends myspace page, i listened to it by the glow of the monitor and nearly shat myself. ...very, very creepy. | |
| Spinal Tap – Big Bottom Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
i heard this song this morning for the first time, its not easy for an american to listen to a british guy singing about fat asses and no laugh! ...i love my big butt... |
|
| A Perfect Circle – The Noose Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| shortest one on here. | |
| A Perfect Circle – 3 Libras Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
this could be about the band. we all know that billy howerdel looked up to maynard and he was the guitar tech for tool, i imagine that when they started APC that he probably learned something about maynard, or could have been anyone, that he didnt care to know. maynard is just singing through billys eyes. maynard never writes about girls and he doesnt really write about relationships like every other band. this is a story in itself. a quite beautiful one at that. |
|
| Tool – Forty Six & 2 Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
Before I try to explain what I think the song (46 & 2 byTool) means, it is necessary for you to know several metaphysical concepts. I got almost all of this information on this page from a book the band recommended on their 1994 newsletter called Nothing in This Book is True, but It's Exactly How Things Are by Bob Frissell. You can get more info in the Books section of this web site. The fine piece of literature explains that human beings are entering the next dimension or "Christ Consciousness" in which they will have 46 and 2 chromosomes. (Currently, we have 44 and 2.) This is the third level of five of consciousness according to Frissell. The fourth and fifth being 48 and 2 and 50 and 2. The book also explains in vivid detail sacred geometry and the future of earth. It is intriguing and a little unbelievable, but there is a lot to be gained if one reads it with an open mind. The most important concept Frissell explains (He learned it from one Drunvalo Melchizadek.) is sacred geometry. Sacred geometry the path in which the creator moved in the void during Genesis. It forms the basis of everything in the universe, including mathematics. The Flower of Life, as seen in the picture to the right, includes in it all the necessary information for the creation of life. Frissell explains hows this figure is derived. If any of you are like me, you have a problem with this idea because you don't necessarily believe in God. Inour terms, the Flower of Life would be the figure that included all ratios necessary for the formation of the universe. Figures that can be derived from the flower are the Phi ratio and the Golden Rectangle. Anyone with a small backround in mathematics knows these ratios are crucial in all living and many nonliving things. If you do not know what these are, look them up. (The movie Pi will also give you a rudimentry backround.) An interesting fact is that the Flower of Life can be seen in the background of the Tool poster in which a man is emerging from a swamp. I am unaware as to whether anyone has scientifically proven the validity of the Flower of Life, but certainly a geometrical figure that included such ratios seems a logical explanation for many patterns in the universe. Many would argue, however, that it is simply a theoretical construct designed by humans to simplify the universe. If this flower does exist, it is etched into all creation. Every living entity is aware of it to a certain extent, but not necessarily fully conscious of it. Frissell explains that the most basic shape to come from the Flower of Life is the Tube Torus, the shape in which all living things emerge from including snakes, birds, rats, and human beings. One end of the tube evolves into the anal area and the other forms the mouth. It seems that since all life might share the same basic information, it might have the capacity to form a unity consciousness which would be 46 and 2. This idea has been explored by Carl Jung for those of you familiar which his work. Currently, human beings are in the second level of consciousness, 44 and 2, but shortly they are expected to evolve in the next level. Supposedly, ascended masters have prepared the path for humans to change. 1998, was in fact, supposed to be when the change occurred. However, it looks like it might be postponed several years due to the abominable state of the world. For one to enter the 46 and 2 state, it seems it would take a mental and spiritual change. (Opening your third eye if you will.) It would require one to have a deep understanding of the world, themselves, and their consciousness. Most people are unaware that some people have vowed to change themselves and move up a level. I will not simply rehash information that I read, but tell you what I gained from it. I am not one to accept what someone wrote in a dogmatic fashion. I was very skeptical after reading Frissell and other associated reading. Obviously, what Frissell was saying cannot be literally true so I looked for a theme of teaching that could be attained. The book is very spiritual and emphasizes that people will be united at a spiritual level. The truth to this statement will be tested in the near future if all goes as Frissell said. The most important message to be derived from the work is the call for uniformity. The human race is slowly mixing out the resources of this planet and slowly usurping all space available. The solution to this very real problem will not be solved unless people learn how to work together. The realization that all people are greater than their racial, socioeconomic, gender, etc. associations is crucial in my opinion. These are all the most petty issues around. The real issues deal with solving the real problems and living a real life. The above concerns are, of course, important but they can be overcome by any reasonably intelligent human being. I have accepted that all people are my equals, I cannot change them, and I do not care to change them. I want to work with them to make a better future. Though this whole point seems incredibly obvious, you just have to glance at the front page of a newspaper to learn most people are not overcoming these minor hurdles. After reading into such things I can only concluded that the song 46 and 2 is about Maynard's attempt to evolve into a higher spiritual being and enter the next level of consciousness. It is about looking in the shadows and discovering who he really is. An interesting line is "listen to my muscle memories". This might refer to the fact that within all cells lies to key to life, the mathematical construct that allows life to unfold in an orderly and consistent manner. I will not get through every line of the song, as I think you can make complete sense of them once aware of what 46 and 2 refers to. One interesting fact is that this song appears to take on a similar meaning as Third Eye. The Third Eye, or pineal gland, supposedly it an important point of access to the metaphysical world according to Eastern thought. It is one of the chakra points, designated the center of spirituality. "Prying open my third eye" takes on an obvious meaning once this fact is known. I apologize to the band if I severely fucked up the intended meanings of you songs. If you have read this whole thing, please do me a favor and share your comments on the bulletin board. Some of the ideas behind this song are based on the teachings of Drunvalo Melchizadek. Here's a snip of an interview with him (Leading Edge, 12/95):"There are three totally different kinds of humans on the Earth, meaning that they perceive the One reality in three different ways, interpreted differently. The first kind of human has a chromosome composition of 42+2. They comprise a unity consciousness that does not see anything outside themselves as being separate from themselves. To them, there is only one energy - one life, one being ness that moves everywhere. Anything happening anywhere is within them, as well. They are like cells in the body. They are all connected to a single consciousness that moves through all of them. These are the aboriginals in Australia. There might be a few African tribes left like this. Then, there is our level, comprising 44+2 chromosomes. We are a disharmonic level of consciousness that is used as a steppingstone from the 42+2 level to the next level, 46+2...These two additional chromosomes change everything. "Rachel Wells (eileen@loop.com) has written this moderately long, excellent summary of all the relevant. Jungian concepts: "Anima / Animus (pronounced On-ee-mah): In Jungian psychology, the anima refers to personality traits regarded as feminine that are often repressed into the unconscious of males while the animus refers to traits regarded as masculine that are often repressed into the unconsciousness of females. Although suppressed from conscious awareness, the anima/animus influences our behavior in powerful ways. In most individuals,it is projected onto people of the opposite sex and accounts for the experience of falling in love with someone we hardly know. As the unconscious pole of the self, the counter-ego represented by the anima/animus can also be a guide to one's own unconscious realm. It is often experienced as the guiding female (if you're male) or male (if you're female) presence in dreams. The Shadow: In Carl Jung's personality theory, the ego represents the individual's sense of personal self. The sense of personal identity is purchased, however, at the expense of certain tendencies that are rejected as 'not-self'. According to Jung, these rejected traits come together as a kind of unconscious 'counter-ego' which he termed the shadow. We may become unduly anxious or irritated when in an environment or around a person that in some way reminds us of repressed aspects of our self. If a person has rejected his or her own sex drive, for example, that person may feel irrational fear or anger around an overtly sexual individual. The shadow may appear as a person in one's dreams, usually as an individual of the same sex. Of all the archetypes, the shadow is the most powerful and potentially the most dangerous. It represents everything about ourselves that we fear and despise. The meaning of 46 + 2: According to Melchezedek, our planet is covered with geometrically constructed 'morpho genetic grids'. These grids extend from about 60 feet under the Earth's surface to about 60 miles above the Earth, arranged in geometric patterns (see 'Sacred Geometry'). Each species has its own grid, which supports life, and connects the consciousness of its particular species. Before any species can come into existance or make an evolutionary step, a new grid must be completed. When a species becomes extinct, that particular species' grid dissoves. A new grid was completed in 1989 - the 'christ-consciousness' grid. This grid will allow humans to evolve into our next version. We'll develop two additional chromosomes (which are really 'geometrical images' designed to resonate with our specific grid) for a total or 46 + 2. The main change will be a shift to the "unity consciousness". Every cell in your body has its own consciousness and memory. You, the higher being that occupies your body, make the millions of different consciousnesses in your body work together as one being. How does this relate to this grid? Think of yourself as a cell and the grid as the higher being. We will still have individual consciousness, but will be united in the form of a higher being in order to work as one entity." Scientifically speaking, humans don't appear to be evolving new chromosomes (or much of anything else; thanks to technology). Forty-Six and Two Essay Version 2.0 As many of you already know, the song itself is based human evolution in consciousness by the means of chromosomes. The human genome - the complete set of human genes - is composed of twenty three seperate pairs of chromosomes. Twenty-two, of which, are numbered in order of size, from the largest (1), to the smallest (22). The remaining pair consists of the sex chromosomes. According to the teachings of Drunvalo Melchizedek, who is the founder of the flower of life teachings (www.floweroflife.org), and the originator of this theory, there are three grids for human consciousness around planet Earth, which correspond directly with the chromosomes in the human body. The first one is forty-two plus two, the second is forty-four plus two (our current evolutionary position), and a third which consists of forty-six plus two chromosomes. The third grid contains Christ conscioussness. Drunvalo predicted the planetary rise to christ conscioussness to occur before the new millenium. As you and I know, this did not happen. If you check up with Drunvalo, he now says that it should happen somewhere between 2010 and 2020. I believe most new age teachers, such as Drunvalo, are simply jumping on the prediction of Terence McKenna's Novelty Theory, which navigates the I-Ching to nail down a specific date for the jump in conscioussness. (see The Archaic Revival by Terence McKenna) In my opinion, Drunvalo Melchizedek suffers from the same ill-fated guru/messiah syndrome that struck Carl Jung, Aleister Crowley, Jesus Christ, L. Ron Hubbard, etc. He is no more of a divine being than you and I. Drunvalo pulls in a substantial amount of money by presenting flower of life seminars to people who are willing to believe in someone and something new(ala, above the crowd, and prepared to lead the way). I hate to break the bubble of these belief happy new agers, but the current number of chromosomes (23) is of no significance at all. Many species, including our closest species amoung the apes, have even more chromosomes, and many have fewer. Although Druvalo is a scam artist, he does stimulate the mind, and he definately has an interesting theory behind consciousness. He also has some very interesting information about sacred geometry and how it relates to you personally. If you havent already, read Nothing in This Book Is True, But It's Exactly How Things Are, by Bob Frissell. In the book, Bob tells the story of Druvalos teachings, and reveals sacred geometry to you in an easy to understand way. Now you might ask, is TOOL, who have told us all, BELIEVE IN NOTHING, guilty of succumbing to the beliefs of a self-proclaimed space-traveler who is actually nothing more than a new age space cadet who probably ate way too much acid in the sixties? Go ahead and wipe the sweat from your face, TOOL would never do such a thing. What TOOL actually did with the song, and the teachings, was to explore a temporary belief system (coined by Robert Anton Wilson), also known as a reality tunnel, which stimulates and mind, and allowed themselves to explore a new way of thinking about consciousness and reality itself. Beliefs are cripplying to the mind, you should try and explore anything and everything. Even if you encounter success with a particular meditation, such as the MERKABA, or ritual magik, once you start to devolop your own dogma, your mind is dead. Temporary belief systems, temporary egos, or temporary reality tunnels (one in the same) are the way to go, because belief systems, are simply B.S. |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
46and2 Body: Before I try to explain what I think the song (46 & 2 byTool) means, it is necessary for you to know several metaphysical concepts. I got almost all of this information on this page from a book the band recommended on their 1994 newsletter called Nothing in This Book is True, but It's Exactly How Things Are by Bob Frissell. You can get more info in the Books section of this web site. The fine piece of literature explains that human beings are entering the next dimension or "Christ Consciousness" in which they will have 46 and 2 chromosomes. (Currently, we have 44 and 2.) This is the third level of five of consciousness according to Frissell. The fourth and fifth being 48 and 2 and 50 and 2. The book also explains in vivid detail sacred geometry and the future of earth. It is intriguing and a little unbelievable, but there is a lot to be gained if one reads it with an open mind. The most important concept Frissell explains (He learned it from one Drunvalo Melchizadek.) is sacred geometry. Sacred geometry the path in which the creator moved in the void during Genesis. It forms the basis of everything in the universe, including mathematics. The Flower of Life, as seen in the picture to the right, includes in it all the necessary information for the creation of life. Frissell explains hows this figure is derived. If any of you are like me, you have a problem with this idea because you don't necessarily believe in God. Inour terms, the Flower of Life would be the figure that included all ratios necessary for the formation of the universe. Figures that can be derived from the flower are the Phi ratio and the Golden Rectangle. Anyone with a small backround in mathematics knows these ratios are crucial in all living and many nonliving things. If you do not know what these are, look them up. (The movie Pi will also give you a rudimentry backround.) An interesting fact is that the Flower of Life can be seen in the background of the Tool poster in which a man is emerging from a swamp. I am unaware as to whether anyone has scientifically proven the validity of the Flower of Life, but certainly a geometrical figure that included such ratios seems a logical explanation for many patterns in the universe. Many would argue, however, that it is simply a theoretical construct designed by humans to simplify the universe. If this flower does exist, it is etched into all creation. Every living entity is aware of it to a certain extent, but not necessarily fully conscious of it. Frissell explains that the most basic shape to come from the Flower of Life is the Tube Torus, the shape in which all living things emerge from including snakes, birds, rats, and human beings. One end of the tube evolves into the anal area and the other forms the mouth. It seems that since all life might share the same basic information, it might have the capacity to form a unity consciousness which would be 46 and 2. This idea has been explored by Carl Jung for those of you familiar which his work. Currently, human beings are in the second level of consciousness, 44 and 2, but shortly they are expected to evolve in the next level. Supposedly, ascended masters have prepared the path for humans to change. 1998, was in fact, supposed to be when the change occurred. However, it looks like it might be postponed several years due to the abominable state of the world. For one to enter the 46 and 2 state, it seems it would take a mental and spiritual change. (Opening your third eye if you will.) It would require one to have a deep understanding of the world, themselves, and their consciousness. Most people are unaware that some people have vowed to change themselves and move up a level. I will not simply rehash information that I read, but tell you what I gained from it. I am not one to accept what someone wrote in a dogmatic fashion. I was very skeptical after reading Frissell and other associated reading. Obviously, what Frissell was saying cannot be literally true so I looked for a theme of teaching that could be attained. The book is very spiritual and emphasizes that people will be united at a spiritual level. The truth to this statement will be tested in the near future if all goes as Frissell said. The most important message to be derived from the work is the call for uniformity. The human race is slowly mixing out the resources of this planet and slowly usurping all space available. The solution to this very real problem will not be solved unless people learn how to work together. The realization that all people are greater than their racial, socioeconomic, gender, etc. associations is crucial in my opinion. These are all the most petty issues around. The real issues deal with solving the real problems and living a real life. The above concerns are, of course, important but they can be overcome by any reasonably intelligent human being. I have accepted that all people are my equals, I cannot change them, and I do not care to change them. I want to work with them to make a better future. Though this whole point seems incredibly obvious, you just have to glance at the front page of a newspaper to learn most people are not overcoming these minor hurdles. After reading into such things I can only concluded that the song 46 and 2 is about Maynard's attempt to evolve into a higher spiritual being and enter the next level of consciousness. It is about looking in the shadows and discovering who he really is. An interesting line is "listen to my muscle memories". This might refer to the fact that within all cells lies to key to life, the mathematical construct that allows life to unfold in an orderly and consistent manner. I will not get through every line of the song, as I think you can make complete sense of them once aware of what 46 and 2 refers to. One interesting fact is that this song appears to take on a similar meaning as Third Eye. The Third Eye, or pineal gland, supposedly it an important point of access to the metaphysical world according to Eastern thought. It is one of the chakra points, designated the center of spirituality. "Prying open my third eye" takes on an obvious meaning once this fact is known. I apologize to the band if I severely fucked up the intended meanings of you songs. If you have read this whole thing, please do me a favor and share your comments on the bulletin board. Some of the ideas behind this song are based on the teachings of Drunvalo Melchizadek. Here's a snip of an interview with him (Leading Edge, 12/95):"There are three totally different kinds of humans on the Earth, meaning that they perceive the One reality in three different ways, interpreted differently. The first kind of human has a chromosome composition of 42+2. They comprise a unity consciousness that does not see anything outside themselves as being separate from themselves. To them, there is only one energy - one life, one being ness that moves everywhere. Anything happening anywhere is within them, as well. They are like cells in the body. They are all connected to a single consciousness that moves through all of them. These are the aboriginals in Australia. There might be a few African tribes left like this. Then, there is our level, comprising 44+2 chromosomes. We are a disharmonic level of consciousness that is used as a steppingstone from the 42+2 level to the next level, 46+2...These two additional chromosomes change everything. "Rachel Wells (eileen@loop.com) has written this moderately long, excellent summary of all the relevant. Jungian concepts: "Anima / Animus (pronounced On-ee-mah): In Jungian psychology, the anima refers to personality traits regarded as feminine that are often repressed into the unconscious of males while the animus refers to traits regarded as masculine that are often repressed into the unconsciousness of females. Although suppressed from conscious awareness, the anima/animus influences our behavior in powerful ways. In most individuals,it is projected onto people of the opposite sex and accounts for the experience of falling in love with someone we hardly know. As the unconscious pole of the self, the counter-ego represented by the anima/animus can also be a guide to one's own unconscious realm. It is often experienced as the guiding female (if you're male) or male (if you're female) presence in dreams. The Shadow: In Carl Jung's personality theory, the ego represents the individual's sense of personal self. The sense of personal identity is purchased, however, at the expense of certain tendencies that are rejected as 'not-self'. According to Jung, these rejected traits come together as a kind of unconscious 'counter-ego' which he termed the shadow. We may become unduly anxious or irritated when in an environment or around a person that in some way reminds us of repressed aspects of our self. If a person has rejected his or her own sex drive, for example, that person may feel irrational fear or anger around an overtly sexual individual. The shadow may appear as a person in one's dreams, usually as an individual of the same sex. Of all the archetypes, the shadow is the most powerful and potentially the most dangerous. It represents everything about ourselves that we fear and despise. The meaning of 46 + 2: According to Melchezedek, our planet is covered with geometrically constructed 'morpho genetic grids'. These grids extend from about 60 feet under the Earth's surface to about 60 miles above the Earth, arranged in geometric patterns (see 'Sacred Geometry'). Each species has its own grid, which supports life, and connects the consciousness of its particular species. Before any species can come into existance or make an evolutionary step, a new grid must be completed. When a species becomes extinct, that particular species' grid dissoves. A new grid was completed in 1989 - the 'christ-consciousness' grid. This grid will allow humans to evolve into our next version. We'll develop two additional chromosomes (which are really 'geometrical images' designed to resonate with our specific grid) for a total or 46 + 2. The main change will be a shift to the "unity consciousness". Every cell in your body has its own consciousness and memory. You, the higher being that occupies your body, make the millions of different consciousnesses in your body work together as one being. How does this relate to this grid? Think of yourself as a cell and the grid as the higher being. We will still have individual consciousness, but will be united in the form of a higher being in order to work as one entity." Scientifically speaking, humans don't appear to be evolving new chromosomes (or much of anything else; thanks to technology). Forty-Six and Two Essay Version 2.0 As many of you already know, the song itself is based human evolution in consciousness by the means of chromosomes. The human genome - the complete set of human genes - is composed of twenty three seperate pairs of chromosomes. Twenty-two, of which, are numbered in order of size, from the largest (1), to the smallest (22). The remaining pair consists of the sex chromosomes. According to the teachings of Drunvalo Melchizedek, who is the founder of the flower of life teachings (www.floweroflife.org), and the originator of this theory, there are three grids for human consciousness around planet Earth, which correspond directly with the chromosomes in the human body. The first one is forty-two plus two, the second is forty-four plus two (our current evolutionary position), and a third which consists of forty-six plus two chromosomes. The third grid contains Christ conscioussness. Drunvalo predicted the planetary rise to christ conscioussness to occur before the new millenium. As you and I know, this did not happen. If you check up with Drunvalo, he now says that it should happen somewhere between 2010 and 2020. I believe most new age teachers, such as Drunvalo, are simply jumping on the prediction of Terence McKenna's Novelty Theory, which navigates the I-Ching to nail down a specific date for the jump in conscioussness. (see The Archaic Revival by Terence McKenna) In my opinion, Drunvalo Melchizedek suffers from the same ill-fated guru/messiah syndrome that struck Carl Jung, Aleister Crowley, Jesus Christ, L. Ron Hubbard, etc. He is no more of a divine being than you and I. Drunvalo pulls in a substantial amount of money by presenting flower of life seminars to people who are willing to believe in someone and something new(ala, above the crowd, and prepared to lead the way). I hate to break the bubble of these belief happy new agers, but the current number of chromosomes (23) is of no significance at all. Many species, including our closest species amoung the apes, have even more chromosomes, and many have fewer. Although Druvalo is a scam artist, he does stimulate the mind, and he definately has an interesting theory behind consciousness. He also has some very interesting information about sacred geometry and how it relates to you personally. If you havent already, read Nothing in This Book Is True, But It's Exactly How Things Are, by Bob Frissell. In the book, Bob tells the story of Druvalos teachings, and reveals sacred geometry to you in an easy to understand way. Now you might ask, is TOOL, who have told us all, BELIEVE IN NOTHING, guilty of succumbing to the beliefs of a self-proclaimed space-traveler who is actually nothing more than a new age space cadet who probably ate way too much acid in the sixties? Go ahead and wipe the sweat from your face, TOOL would never do such a thing. What TOOL actually did with the song, and the teachings, was to explore a temporary belief system (coined by Robert Anton Wilson), also known as a reality tunnel, which stimulates and mind, and allowed themselves to explore a new way of thinking about consciousness and reality itself. Beliefs are cripplying to the mind, you should try and explore anything and everything. Even if you encounter success with a particular meditation, such as the MERKABA, or ritual magik, once you start to devolop your own dogma, your mind is dead. Temporary belief systems, temporary egos, or temporary reality tunnels (one in the same) are the way to go, because belief systems, are simply B.S. |
|
| Tool – Lost Keys (Blame Hofmann) Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| i love the australian accent. i like the pattern of accents in the albums, very unsual in american music, but still good that tool is a universal band. | |
| Tool – Parabol Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
*gasp* i love this site..toolnavy too. people are so smart. hm..at least a few of them are. twist 2202, your are an intelligent creature. |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| this is the only way that i can write shit at school and save it to work on it at home. no one really cares about the songs that i do this too anyways. who would analyze this song? | |
| Tool – Eulogy Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
it just sounds like hes going through the anger stage of getting over a death. in the first half of eulogy, bill hicks is the one that pops to mind, then i imagine maynard screaming at his grave. i dont know much about L. Ron, but i guess you all could be right. i still think its about hicks though. hicks wasnt afraid to die. "its just a ride" and he got off, thats all. when it says "Get off your fucking cross" i imagine hicks doing his rutine about advertisements. "its jesus for miller" he holds up his arms as if he were on a cross. "it dont get much better than this jesus." you all could definatly be right, but i doubt it. the album is about bill hicks and philosphy. There was shit about L. Ron in AEnima, but even that one was Hicks'. |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
"A Wink from the Cosmos," by Meg Lundstrom (Intuition Magazine, May 1996) Earl was trying to track down an out-of-print book called The Adventures of Marco Polo. He scoured two used book stores in New York City, had no success, and caught a taxi to a third. The cab driver was unusually chatty, and during their conversation, Earl glanced at his license on the dashboard. His name? Marco Polo! Art was sitting at his computer typing an e-mail missive when his cat Coal jumped from his lap onto the keyboard. Before Arts startled eyes, as the cat shifted from key to key, its paws tapped out the word emerson on the screen. "To make it even weirder, Ive been studying Ralph Waldo Emerson intently for the past year, and the study has taken on a very symbolic meaning to me," he says, still in shock. "My wife was sitting next to me at the computer, and if Im sent away for being crazy, she has to go, too!" The uncanny coincidence. The unlikely conjunction of events. The startling serendipity. Who hasnt had it happen in their life? You think of someone for the first time in years, and run into them a few hours later. An unusual phrase youd never heard before jumps out at you three times in the same day. On a back street in a foreign country, you bump into a college roommate. A book falls off the shelf at the bookstore and its exactly what you need. Is it only, as skeptics suggest, selective perception and the law of averages playing itself out? Or is it, as Carl Jung believed, a glimpse into the underlying order of the universe? He coined the term synchronicity to describe what he called the "acausal connecting principle" that links mind and matter. He said this underlying connectedness manifests itself through meaningful coincidences that cannot be explained by cause and effect. Such synchronicities occur, he theorized, when a strong need arises in the psyche of an individual. He described three types that he had observed: the coinciding of a thought or feeling with an outside event; a dream, vision or premonition of something that then happens in the future; and a dream or vision that coincides with an event occurring at a distance. No one has come up with a definition that has superceded his, although there has been debate on whether events linked to precognition and clairvoyance should be included as synchronicity. Some scientists see a theoretical grounding for synchronicity in quantum physics, fractal geometry, and chaos theory. They are finding that the isolation and separation of objects from each other is more apparent than real; at deeper levels, everything -- atoms, cells, molecules, plants, animals, people -- participates in a sensitive, flowing web of information. Physicists have shown, for example, that if two photons are separated, no matter by how far, a change in one creates a simultaneous change in the other. Whatever its cause, the appeal of synchronicity runs deep. "People love mysterious things, and synchronicity is like magic happening to them," says Carolyn North, author of Synchronicity: The Anatomy of Coincidence (Regent Press). "It gives us a sense of hope, a sense that something bigger is happening out there than what we can see, which is especially important in times like this when theres so many reasons for despair." The more pragmatic a person, the greater a surprise a synchronistic incident is -- even mild ones of the sort that happen to most people sooner or later. For example, Bruce, a corporate lawyer, was stunned the day that, just as he was getting ready to dial his father, he picked up the phone and heard his fathers voice on the other end -- calling him. "I said, `Holy smokes! We were both dumbfounded!" he recalls. For a moment in time, synchronicity shattered their assumptions of cause-and-effect reality. Some people, however, would shrug and call this intuition. How are the two different? At first blush, synchronicity and intuition seem to be separate phenomena. Synchronicity happens "out there": against the odds, something in the Universe seems to swing into place to answer an inner need we have. Intuition happens "in here": its an inner knowing, an ability to tune into knowledge in a nonrational, nonlinear way. We know something but we dont know how we know it. Yet the boundaries get fuzzy very quickly. Jungs definition of synchronicity clearly incorporates precognition and clairvoyance, which, by some peoples definition, are also types of intuition: they are certainly inner knowing. For example, heres a mind-boggling synchronicity story thats just as mind-boggling when viewed as an intuition story. Pam's father was chopping down a tree for firewood when it suddenly fell on him, crushing the left side of his face almost beyond recognition and shattering his back. Against all odds, he shoved the tree off of himself and walked a mile for help. Pam flew to Ithaca, New York, to be with him. It wasn't until weeks later, when she had returned to New York City, that she picked up the tablet she had been taking notes on in class at the time the accident had happened. She had been idly doodling in the margins -- and her drawings included a face with the left half shaded in black and a person's back with two Xs on the spine, marking the same vertebrae that her father had broken. If we eliminate Jungs two psi-related definitions and just focus on the coinciding of inner and outer events in a way that defies causal explanation, there can still be an overlapping, because the inner event can be an intuitive hit. In practice, synchronicity and intuition sometimes seem so intertwined that its hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins. Shelley was sitting at Notre Dame in Paris giving her sore feet a rest. The shoes she had worn from the States had turned out to be painful, and her limited budget didn't allow her to buy another pair. Suddenly she felt an inner prompting, and she got up, walked out of the church, and turned left. Following her promptings, she made several other turns to arrive at a square. There, on top of a trash can, sat a pair of brand new black boots with no signs of wear -- in exactly her size. "It was perfect," she said. "If they had been inside the trash can, I wouldnt have pulled them out. If they had been worn before, I wouldnt have put them on. And they were so stylish I never could have afforded them myself!" So is this an intuition story or a synchronicity story? Intuition got her to the boots. Synchronicity provided her with precisely what she needed: she was virtually handed the boots by the Universe. Some synchronicities are not the delivery of objects but of insights: something in the outer world crystallizes or confirms an inner process. Those synchronicities can "feel" much like intuition: its sudden information perceived by the psyche and experienced as true. "Theyre both messages, but one is internal and one external," says John Graham, a former foreign officer who with his wife, Ann Medlock, runs the Giraffe Project, an intrepid organization in Langley, Washington, that recognizes people who stick their necks out for the common good. The organization lives hand to mouth on donations, but John intuitively knows when a big check is in the morning mail, and the amount is often synchronistically the exact amount they need to pay a pressing bill. "Synchronicity and intuition are saying the same thing, its just as if one were speaking French and the other Spanish," he says. David Spangler, an author, teacher, and former guiding light of Findhorn, believes the two have many underlying similarities. "Intuition is another form of synchronicity: When I intuit something, theres no apparent cause-and-effect relationship between my knowledge and how I got the knowledge," he says. "Likewise, synchronicity is precipitated intuition: we know of a connection not inwardly but outwardly, through action and perception. In both cases, the pattern carries the same message: we live in a world more intricately and holistically organized than we may ever have previously supposed." Ultimately, it seems that our perception of the two is based on how we experience the boundary between our inner and outer environments. The more we feel a part of all around us, the more we engage in a dance of energy and input from all sides. At that point, it doesnt matter, except as a point of passing interest, where the information comes from: it just comes. Yet, until we live at that exalted level of consciousness, we can make good use of the interplay between the two. For example, some people develop their intuition using synchronicity as a tool. They follow an inner urge or message and watch for the results: if a meaningful coincidence results, it is a sign to them that theyre on the right track and that they can trust that voice in the future. For instance, Kathleen was driving toward the mountains for a hike when she made a split-second decision to go to a pottery studio instead. "I dont know why -- it just felt right," she says. She had thought about stopping there before but had never gotten around to it. Just as she walked in the door, a woman was putting the finishing touches on a large ceramic pot. "Its a drum," she told Kathleen, "But I dont know anything about putting a skin on it." "Ive make drums!" exclaimed Kathleen. "I know where to get the skins!" They quickly agreed to collaborate; in exchange, the woman will give her lessons. "It confirmed my intution," says Kathleen, "and let me know that pottery is something I should definitely pursue." Conversely, some people make active use of intuitive skills to garner useful coincidences. Ray Simon, a Massachusetts writer, is constantly scanning the environment for oddities; he runs quick intuitive checks on them and follows where they lead him, often with fortuitous outcomes. For example, he was at a library looking up material on Alfred North Whitehead. A computer search listed 12 references, the third of which was blank. He pulled up the information on the third, found out that it actually referred to a book on Sartre, and so went to the shelves to find it. "These things are annoying to follow," he says with a laugh. "Your reasonable mind wants to do things that make sense." Next to that book was a different one on Sartre, a comic book that laid out his philosophy in a whimsical format. "I needed that information because I write computer manuals, and its an ongoing battle to stay light," he says. "That book enriched my life and expanded my thinking about what could be done." Theres something about turning ones choices over to intuition that seems to avail oneself to synchronicity," says Allan Combs, Ph.D., a psychology professor at the University of North Carolina at Asheville who co-authored Synchronicity: Science, Myth and the Trickster (Marlowe). "In practice, that can mean moving from moment to moment when making decisions, even small decisions -- especially small decisions! If you expect the unexpected, synchronicity will emerge." Intuition, researchers have found, flourishes in a person who is open, receptive and nonjudgmental. Synchronicity has had little research -- it defies laboratory tests, of course -- but people who have studied the topic report a phenomena which Alan Vaughan, author of Incredible Coincidence: The Baffling World of Synchronicity (Ballantine) calls "the synchronicity of synchronicity." Just having an active interest in the matter seems to make synchronicities happen more often -- in part, of course, because we notice them more. Likewise, synchronicity too seems to be dampened by cynicism and doubt. Although some synchronistic events, like some intuitive hits, cannot be easily ignored, others are of a subtler nature -- almost dreamlike in their metaphorical patterns -- and it takes practice both to notice and decode them. In her book The Tao of Psychology: Synchronicity and the Self (HarperCollins). Jean Shinoda Bolen writes about being at a dinner party with friends when one woman raised a question: Occasionally, when she closed her eyes, frightening demonic images would appear. Should she confront them? examine them? immediately turn her attention elsewhere? As they discussed the matter, a skunk started scratching at a sliding glass door in front of them, trying to get inside.The hosts had never seen a skunk in the area, and after discussing how odd it was to see one trying to approach people, they joked about how unlikely it was that anyone would open a door to one. It was only later that Jean and her husband realized that the skunk provided a synchronistic answer to their question: Just as a skunk would stink up a living space, allowing demonic images in would do the same to one's inner space. Says North: "If your belief system is such that intuition and synchronicity are real and significant, you will notice them. If your belief system is that theyre hogwash, you wont." Belief systems also dictate what people attribute the workings of synchronicity to. When it occurs, they may thank their luck, or fate, or destiny, or karma, or a miracle, or angels, for example. "Synchronicity happens when God wishes to remain anonymous," goes one saying. Carrie and Dan view as divinely inspired the string of happy coincidences that have allowed them to adopt and raise eleven disabled children on Dans salary as a school cafeteria worker. One month, hit with several emergencies, they had no money to pay rent -- until lightning struck, hitting two of their trees. When the insurance adjuster came by, he wrote out a check so they could have them taken down, but he said to Carrie with a smile, "If I were you, I wouldnt bother taking those trees down -- youre only going to lose a branch." The check exactly covered their rent. Said Carrie: "We thanked God. We walk in his shadow." As was true with Carrie and Dan, synchronicity seems to appear often at times of personal crises and at such passage points as births and deaths. Sunbathing on a Caribbean beach with her friend Sandy, Mary found herself thinking sadly about Beth, a mutual friend of theirs who had died unexpectedly two weeks earlier. Softly, she started humming "Amazing Grace." When she finished, Sandy said, "That's so strange. I was just thinking about Beth, and `Amazing Grace' was her favorite song." Mary was stunned: she had never associated the song with Beth. They later learned that at the exact time Mary had been humming, Beth's family had been holding a private memorial for her. "Synchronicity seems to happen when youre intensely caught up in something thats very deep -- for instance, falling in makes it pop all over the place," says Combs. "A lot of activities that tap into the deep mystery of life -- things like meditation, contemplative prayer -- also seem to stir it up." Synchronicities are sometimes regarded as signs, and some people consciously use them to make decisions in life. In the novel The Celestine Prophecy, a bestseller which thrust synchronicity into the public consciousness, James Redfield says that all coincidences are significant because they point the way to an unfolding of our personal destiny. MaryAnn had moved to London to live with her boyfriend, only to discover that she hated the city and that he had a nasty streak. One morning at 6 a.m., after a tearful fight with him, she fled the house and was out walking the dank, grey streets, feeling completely miserable. Suddenly a dead bird fell out of the sky and landed at her feet with a plop. "That did it," she says. "It was a sign from the Universe and it was shouting, `Go home!' And I did." Often synchronicities are simply a lark, a wink from the cosmos. Rebecca, a screenwriter, was researching the life of a mysterious woman, a famous writer's lover who had died tragically at a young age. Driving to Boston to view the writer's archives, Rebecca on a whim stopped off at the sprawling cemetery in the woman's home town, and quickly chanced upon her gravestone. On top of it was sitting a rabbit, its pink nose quivering. At the sight of Rebecca, it started skittering around in circles. In Boston a few hours later, she was reading through the writer's diaries when in the margin of a page, she came upon a few lines of curlicue, schoolgirlish handwriting, which she recognized as being the young woman's. The words? "Thank God for the rabbits and their funny little habits." |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
My mother was a natural when it came to controling the wind, at least, thats what im told. She died not long after i was born. I was raised by a man that i have to real relation to. They grew up in the same village, Devo and my mother. They met late one night when he found her meditating by the pond, watching a family of swans swim quietly by, thats how Devo described it. He said that she looked so placid and beautiful. he watched her for awhile, until she was interupted by a strange man in black. He grabbed her by her hair and placed a blade to her throat, she didnt scream or struggle and her calm smile never faded. the man said something in her ear, but Devo didnt hear, he ran up behind him and pulled him away. Devo stabbed the man and he threw Devo against a tree. When he awoke, my mother stood over him in a field during a storm. he never knew what became of the man, she had said that he was her uncle and it was time that she stood up for herself. she told me that she knew that devo was behind her, so she wasnt scared, there was something powerful about his presence. she thanked him and kissed him on the cheek and walked away. devo said that she seemed to float instead of walk. Devo had great respect for my mother and as a result,intimadation also. She vanished with the wind, he wouldn't get up the nerve to talk to her alone for years. Before her, he had never believed in love at frst sight.He said that when she left him that night, there was more electricity in the air than he had ever felt. He later found out that it was all from him. He was barely ten years old at the time so he was just finding his inner power. They became friends a few years later, Devo was nineteen, she was eighteen. Devo never said anything bad about her, only that he had been so in love with her, but she didn't look at him the same way. Later in life, they were in a tavern and a strange man came up and was harassing my mother, she tried to fight back, but Devo butted in and really made the guy mad. The man challenged her to a fight behind the tavern. Devo wanted to defend her, but my mother wouldn't let him, by what Devo said, she was a very confident, indepedant person. In that last battle, she used every spell that she knew against the man, she told Devo that it was like fighting her uncle-who had abused her through her early childhood- again and she wanted to enjoy herself. Devo watched as he was slowly beating her, he used fire spells on her, but for most of the fight, she had to defend herself with her wind. She couldn't get many good hits on the guy, he wore her out, licking his lips the whole time. Devo, once again tried to step in, but she held him back. She became exhausted after a long, stenuous battle. Devo stared at the man, remembered seeing him before, remembered hearing about him from a man in the tavern only nights before. He was that man perverse man that took his victims away from civilization and supposedly ate the bodies. "At least he gets a hot meal." The man in the bar had said. "He sets them on fire just before he hits them with the last blow." That popped into Devo's mind just when a flare swirled around his beloved and she fell to her knees in submission. Devo jumped from his place in the crowd that had gathered to watch the brawl. Devo threw an innocent to his feet to get to my mother, she glanced up with sad eyes, she knew that she had been defeated, but she still didnt want his help. She blew a kiss at him which sent out a tiny tornado and knocked him back off his feet. Devo watched the mans battle axe raise high above his head, he pulled it downward barely missing my mother, Devo had pushed the axe out of the way, nearly cutting off two fingers. Devo held his arms around my mother, her wind had blown out the flames that danced had around her. The axe raised once again and Devo threw a bolt of lightning straight to it, knocking the dark man down and he lost his weapon. Devo, who never really was violent, did everything he could to keep him away from my mother. He jumped on him and threw his arms around the beast, in a quick fury of flames, Devo was thrown from the monsters back and lie there, useless. |
|
| Steriogram – Walkie Talkie Man Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
im at school making a story for an RP game. i cant save it anywhere else. My mother was a natural when it came to controling the wind, at least, thats what im told. She died not long after i was born, three days to be exact. I was raised by a man that i have to real relation to. He had an odd relationship with my mother, but it was only a mutual understanding, it never progressed to a friendship. They grew up in the same village, Devo and my mother. They met late one night when he found her meditating by the pond, watching a family of swans swim quietly by, thats how Devo described it. He said that she looked so placid and beautiful. he watched her for awhile, until she was interupted by a strange man in black. He grabbed her by her hair and placed a blade to her throat, she didnt scream or struggle and her calm smile never faded. the man said something in her ear, but Devo didnt hear, he ran up behind him and pulled him away. Devo stabbed the man and he threw Devo against a tree. When he awoke, my mother stood over him in a field during a storm. he never knew what became of the man, she had said that he was her uncle and it was time that she stood up for herself. she told me that she knew that devo was behind her, so she wasnt scared, there was something powerful about his presence. she thanked him and kissed him on the cheek and walked away. devo said that she seemed to float instead of walk. ... |
|
| Tool – Rosetta Stoned Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
its a continuation of Faaip De Oaid. like Faaip, its about aliens and conspiracies. this song goes a bit deeper though its about everything that this guy did when it happened, Faaip was about the plan and destruction i think. i didnt like this cd until i read the lyrics, now the songs even harder to figure out. |
|
| Tool – (-) Ions Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
ever fall asleep listeing to one of the segue tracks on repeat? you'll have weird dreams that are beautiful and creepy. i had one once about a book. there was a party thrown for a kids birthday, he got a big book and it sat on the table in front of the flaming cake, the book glowed and when the kid touched it, he died instantly. a hundred men and women showed up and they all feared the book, some just wanted to try and hold it because they wanted to prove everyone wrong, they died too...idiots. there was pandemonium and a closet door opened and a blinding bright light drowned through the room. the table knocked over and the cake candles set the room on fire. some people ran through the door, others hid from it but no one could leave the room unless they went through the door. in the end, all that was left was the birthday boy and the book. he was surrounded by ashes and bodies and he was still smiling. he picked up the book and walked through the door and closed it behind him. i woke up listening to electricity and wind. cool dream, huh? its kind of obvious what the dream was about, but still scary, always scary just on the chance that we might all be making a mistake in life by not thinking about the afterlife. **i stopped going to church three years ago and since then i really got into tool and started reading a lot about philosophy. |
|
| Tool – Vicarious Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| to Lateralus518: did you listen to AEnima!?! TOOL did sell out, youre a moron if you believe otherwise and if a tool freak expects something thats better than anyone could imagine, he'd never be disapointed. Tool is just an all around great band and you never know what will happen next. | |
| Hoobastank – Born To Lead Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| no, youre all wrong...morons. Its about biting of someones nipples and sewing them to their testicles...well, maybe i should listen to the song first, or at least read the lyrics. | |
| A Perfect Circle – Blue Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| many of these songs are written for Layne somethingorrather of Alice in Chains. We all know that he died of an OD and he was one of Maynard's friends... | |
| Bush – Glycerine Lyrics | 19 years ago |
|
This is about the contradiction of a bad love. These two people could not doubt or change the one's that they love, but they couldn't change themselves either. There were wrong from the start, and after awhile, all of their flaws outnumbered all the good that they had done together. That is the kind of relashionship where experience matters. These people may not end up together, at least they won't be happy, but the time that they had was precious. I recently got out of a relationship like this, all I can say is that I know that I love him and I can't stop. He DID change me, for the better, I guess, but I was happier when I had no restrictions. He taught me to respect myself and to be true to myself. He knows me better than most and that scared me, so I rebelled against him. I was flirty with my old guy-friends and two of them had kissed me. I told my bf and he lost faith in me, he didn't trust me anymore and he became distant. I stopped being friends with them until he and I had broken up, but my bf was still distant. I screwed up. In my defense he did too. He was always lying to me, mostly about when he would come and see me. I know that it doesn't sound like much, but when I stayed up 'til four in the morning and finally fell asleep worried or mad, I didn't feel like I was wanted. I know that he still loves me though, at least that is what he told me and that is what I choose to believe... He held me last night and told me that he will always love me, even though we are both good people, but horrible to each other. (see how this works? contradiction) I regret only a few things about US but I cant take them back and neither can he. We needed each other, but we only shyd away. The more time we spent apart, the more we realized that we weren't meant to be. I'll always love him... |
|
| Bush – Glycerine Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| glycerine is a colorless, odorless, hygroscopic, and sweet-tasting viscous liquid. Glycerin is a sugar alcohol and has three hydrophilic alcoholic hydroxyl groups (-OH) that are responsible for its solubility in water. Glycerin is prochiral. Glycerin is used in glycerin soap, in cosmetics and creams, in foods, in chemistry, and in glycerin fog machine mist. Glycerin is produced from dihydroxyacetone phosphate (DHAP) by the enzyme glycerol three-phosphate dehydrogenase (Gpd p) in the mitochondrion of the eukaryotic cell during glycolysis | |
| Bush – Everything Zen Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| He wants everything his way. I does'nt all make sense, but it doesn't matter. In the first verse, he talks about how he wants it, not everything is good, but he is trying to make it better. "We're so bored, you're to blame" is how he feels when the other person/being is there, nothing is posetive and you can't exactly joke about it. The other person is more serious and cynical. When he says "Everything Zen" he means that he can deal with it, it doesn't nessecarily bother him much, it's just life. When he talks about Elvis, that is another example of having it his way. If you love someone/something it never actually dies, it will always leave a kind of residue of memory, spirit, inspiration, emotion... | |
| Tool – Message to Harry Manback II Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| Harry Manback was a "friend of a friend", he asked to stay with Maynard for a while, then ran up the phone bill, I'm pretty sure that this was in the UNDERTOW days, but maybe a little after. The band thought that it sounded romantic if you didn't speak english of italian...imagine a lover singing this to you and years later you found out what it meant..."O my fuck!?! My husband called me an asshole of shit!?! I hope I can get him to give me anal now..." Yeah, good times. This is a cynical look on love and how it can be mistaken for hatred, and the other way around. After all, you can only hate someone if they hurt you and that basically means that you care about them one way or another. | |
| Tool – Parabol Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
Its no secret theat Parabol/parabola are connected, but each song does have its own meaning when you hear it by itself. But together, it makes a sad and interesting story. Parabol is a variation of the spelling parable...duh...which is a story. Its about some one, a man no doubt, devoting his life to a girl that he loved, but its not exactly true love, its good sex, and mostly physical rather than emotional. They are hurting each other, but it still feels good, physically. Now, in Parabola, it is true love. He forgets about the pain that a fuck buddy can do to him, and really falls in love. He holds her and she holds him, which is a lot different than fucking. They help each other, and they are scared that they will eventually havce to leave each other behind. He is reminded that he is only human, because he cant resist her. He cant imagine life without her, now he has something to lose. |
|
| Helloween – Power Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| im writing this because its only a few minutes after jsorel wrote his. who the hell is this? i have nothing better to do...lol | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins – Geek U.S.A. Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
this is the 1st time ive read the lyrics, i thought i knew what this was about, but i was way off...maybe i should listen to the words more... i do have the dvd, i love the very beginning when Iha is giving the clowns a pep talk. he has kind of a weird vioce. its thick and ...um...chewy...if that makes sense. No? ok. its hilarious when the clowns start to hump each other. has anyone else noticed that on Billy's guitar it says "I love my mommy"? maybe the song is about her...maybe it was on it in An Ode to No One...gawd, im so high. that kissyface clown is fuckin hot. lmao |
|
| The Smashing Pumpkins – An Ode to No One (Fuck You) Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| has any one seen the live video for this song? its on the dvd. its really kewl. you people, go buy the dvd. | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins – An Ode to No One (Fuck You) Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| alex 0203, sit in a bath tub full of gasoline, light a match. this is a place for you to post theories about what the song may be about. If you dont like SP, why the fuck are you on here? | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins – Rock On Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| Yay!! Im the 1st to put a message for this song that i've never heard...at least i care | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins – Tonight, Tonight Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
This is the most beautiful love songs that i've ever heard (after getting past the screeching "believe" and "tonight" parts). the video is also vividly imaginative. i like the alien guys...creey little things...before i started to really listen to SP, this was the only song that i actually like. I'll watch the video sometimes, (after getting over the frustration from it skipping) and i'll just dream. i'll think about all the little moments in life that seem insignificant, but can make a person happier in a single moment than they'll fell in a month. (for me, its when my boyfriend kisses me, and our noses touch.) this is love in its purest form, who wouldnt want one night with someone that they love? I love you, justin. thank you for everything you've done for me, and all the nights that we've spent together. :-) |
|
| Tool – Parabol Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| i refuse to believe that this song, (like so many others) has another meaning, It's perfectly beautiful. Parabola can have more meanings that stem off from this. When I hear these songs together, i melt. I get all emotional, then i start to scream (i cant sing) and shake my ass. great songs, wouldnt be the same if they were put together. | |
| Tool – Faaip de Oiad Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| Creepiest Tool Song ever. I love this track. This is the most inspirational song for me. Listen to this, while you sleep, then wake up a grab a pen. The stories write themselves when youre in a toolish state of mind. | |
| Tool – Die Eier Von Satan Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| not every song has moe than one meaning. keep in mind that maynard did standup comedy. maynard also, has tributes to his fellow comedian and good friend Bill Hicks on this album too. | |
| Tool – Die Eier Von Satan Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| whoops | |
| Tool – Die Eier Von Satan Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
Maynard said somewhere that his friends kept clling him while he was on tour for a recipe, this might be it, im not sure. I had a friend who was learning german. He had to decipher a german song, i gave him this one, and he failed the class:) he gave me a bloody nose, but it was fucking hilarious. |
|
| Tool – Die Eier Von Satan Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
Maynard said somewhere that his friends kept clling him while he was on tour for a recipe, this might be it, im not sure. I had a friend who was learning german. He had to decipher a german song, i gave him this one, and he failed the class:) he gave me a bloody nose, but it was fucking hilarious. |
|
| The Smashing Pumpkins – By Starlight Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| Stupid_name, thats beautiful. This is a perfect song to fall in love to. | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins – Lily (My One and Only) Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| My boyfriend works nights, so he only comes over after midnight. No one really knows that he's here sometimes. I listen to this song to think of my 'stalker'. My dad wouldn't want my bf at my window, and i don't think that many people would want guys watch | |
| The Smashing Pumpkins – Disarm Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
you have to have prior knowledge about corgan to fully understand this song disarm you with a smile I'll still love you even though you hurt me and I hope this will always haunt you and cut you like you want me to you want me to know that im worthless, but youre worse off than me, cut that little child beat the innocence out of me, litterally and cut me lik you want me to I'll always have the memories, and so will you ooh, the years burn this hurts so bad, and it wont get better because of the memories and dreams i used to be a little boy, you stole my innocence so old in my shoes i dont want to grow up, but im expected to and i cant let you down because i fear you and what i choose is my choice you say i cant do this, but i will prove you wrong disarm.. whats a boy supposed to do i have no other choice, i have to try because its in my blood and i already forfeited everything for it the killer... my love my family and everyone who made me who i am today i send this smile over to you my past still haunts me no matter what i do, but in a way i forgive you because you still made me disarm... and leave you like they left me here, to wither in denial i'll leave everyone behind to figure out who i want to be the bitterness of one whos left alone i forced this on myself, but its not what i pictured, and i need you (anyone) with me years... ... (blahblahblah) send this smile over to you youll always be there for me, whether we hate each other or not, but i'll still love you no matter what read Billy Corgans confesssions, his step mom beat him, his dad was a musician...Stupid_name, finish this for me |
|
| The Smashing Pumpkins – Disarm Lyrics | 20 years ago |
| stupid_name: nice, very nice, youre way too passionate about this | |
| Tool – Jerk-Off Lyrics | 20 years ago |
|
according to the tool oage, "shoot you in your fucking head" was changed to "fuck you in you fucking ass" hi lev |
|
* This information can be up to 15 minutes delayed.