| The Arrogant Sons of Bitches – Last On My List Lyrics | 17 years ago |
| Upbeat my arse | |
| Frenzal Rhomb – Ben (secret track) Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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If anyone wants this song, I could email it to you. I used Audacity to combine all the 4 second tracks into one, sourced right from the CD. |
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| Frenzal Rhomb – Johnny Ramone Was In A Fucken Good Band, But He Was A Cunt (Gabba Gabba You Suck) Lyrics | 18 years ago |
| Suprised this song doesn't have 30 comments of shithead 13 year olds saying "OMG frenzal suck!! ramones R kewl!!! blasfemi!!" | |
| Bomb the Music Industry! – Anywhere I Lay My Head Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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Tom Waits is awesome. Decent cover, but I'm not a fan of the fireworks and such. |
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| Faith No More – Naked In Front Of The Computer Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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A possible meaning I've thought about myself is that the song is about communication via the internet on forums etc. Being a forum addict of many years, I can see that people say nothing in lots of words and ways. If this is the meaning, "Naked" could mean literal, or bare and honest. If literal, it wouldn't be for a sexual reason, rather you're comfortable wearing whatever you want in your own home But I guess the lyrics are more pointing towards a hatred towards the computer - A frustration aimed at the computer not aiding him in his tasks. |
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| Mad Caddies – S.O.S. Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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No idea it was a cover lol? What are you, 12? If you hang around people that think ska "can't be sad", I'm sorry but you hang around idiots. I just realised I'm replying to a message from 2004. I'm the idiot now. |
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| Sum 41 – A.N.I.C. Lyrics | 18 years ago |
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"You're all wrong. It stands for Anna Nicole is a Corpse." haha, oh dear. |
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| Bomb the Music Industry! – Side Projects Are Never Successful Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| Post-apocalyptic world ftw. | |
| Justin Timberlake – SexyBack Lyrics | 19 years ago |
| Generic pop song. No hidden meanings. The chorus is where the musical depth begins, and ends. Verses are just inserted to go between each repeat of the chorus. | |
| Bomb the Music Industry! – Sorry, Brooklyn. Dancing Won't Solve Anything. Lyrics | 19 years ago |
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[Jeff]: This jam has been sitting around for a long time, but I never could finish writing it until I moved to sunny sunny Queens New York! It's basically about those kids who say that punk rock shouldn't concern itself with politics, y'know, the jaded ones. The ones who figure that we really can't change anything, so fuck it, let's get drunk and just go out and party. And sure, that's everyone sometimes but it shouldn't be anyone all the time! Crank the speakers! [/Jeff] My first real attempt at an evaluation of a song... Jeff mentions most of what I'd have to say if I were to go into it myself. You know, having wrote and recorded the song and all. First listen to this song I understood it all because I know how all the scene kids are, not caring about the message, just how many hooks are in it. But I'd just like to point out a possible curb stomping reference in the second last paragraph as written above. |
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| Bomb the Music Industry! – Does Your Face Hurt? No? 'Cause It's Killing Me!!! Lyrics | 19 years ago |
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This song goes more like this... I'm not sure on one bit [?]marked like so[/?] Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me. Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me. Placement of the piercings. You're killing me. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me. Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me. Get a shirt that fits you. You're killing me. Right. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Someone the other day was telling me about marketing and how it is so important for a band to sell a t-shirt. I told him that the money goes right back into the same thing and now we're just a breeding ground for more and more consumers. And sellout, shmellout, it's not about that. But all my problems seem to stem from cash. I got my beliefs and I don't care if they're right but every time [?] I get them out [/?] they always seem to get me in a fight Soon we'll be in the clear When we get out of here Where style is function And our egos make us fight. For now we'll live in fear. We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere. Someone blow it up tonight. Please blow it up tonight. Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me. Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me. Placement of the piercings. You're killing me. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me. Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me. Get a shirt that fits you. You're kidding me. Right. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Williamsburg has got the lights turned low and a moron with a laptop is calling this poetry. A singer with a thrift amp brags "Vintage Circuitry". I saw him on the cover of Bop or Seventeen: "I'm so lonely/Life is empty/Where's my coke and ****ing money?" Tonight at the bar I got a good look at the enemy: "I'm too ****ing cool, someone else can write the songs for me." Soon we'll be in the clear When we get out of here Where style is function And our egos make us fight. For now we'll live in fear. We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere. Someone blow it up tonight. Please blow it up tonight. Now we're cloning sheep. Writing garbage in their diaries. Reading their AP. Watching Fuse TV. Kill it, c'est la vie. Fashion show equals your scene. Bomb the industry. Then run away or watch the blast. I'm getting out so kiss my ass. I'm going nowhere, nowhere fast. I'm going nowhere nowhere nowhere. |
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