Grateful Dead

dead.net the official site

was inadvertently included.

By: Lou Reed They say he didn't have an enemy his was a greatness to behold He was the last surviving progeny the last one on this side of the world He measured a half mile from tip to tail silver and black with powerful fins They say he could split a mountain in two that's how we got the Grand Canyon Last great American whale last great American whale Last great American whale last great American whale Some say they saw him at the Great Lakes some say they saw him off of Florida My mother said she saw him in Chinatown but you can't always trust your mother Off the Carolinas the sun shines brightly in the day the lighthouse glows ghostly there at night The chief of a local tribe had killed a racist mayor's son and he'd been on death row since 1958 The mayor's kid was a rowdy pig spit on Indians and lots worse The old chief buried a hatchet in his head life compared to death for him seemed worse The tribal brothers gathered in the lighthouse to sing and tried to conjure up a storm or rain The harbor parted, the great whale sprang full up and caused a hugh tidal wave The wave crushed the jail and freed the chief the tribe let out a roar The whites were drowned, the browns and reds set free but sadly one thing more Some local yokel member of the NRA kept a bazooka in his living room And thinking he had the chief in his sight blew the whale's brains out with a lead harpoon Last great American whale last great American whale Last great American whale last great American whale Well Americans don't care for much of anything land and water the least And animal life is low on the totem pole with human life not worth more than infected yeast Americans don't care too much for beauty they'll shit in a river, dump battery acid in a stream They'll watch dead rats wash up on the beach and complain if they can't swim They say things are done for the majority don't believe half of what you see and none of what you hear It's like what my painter friend Donald said to me "Stick a fork in their ass and turn them over, they're done" Send "Last Great American Whale" Ringtone to your Cell

Rolling Stones Well, when you're sitting there In your silk upholstered chair Talking to some rich folks that you know Well I hope you won't see me In my ragged company You know I could never be alone Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the mail Send me dead flowers to my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave Well, you're sitting back In your rose pink Cadillac Making bets on Kentucky Derby Day I'll be in my basement room With a needle and a spoon And another girl can take my pain away Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the mail Send me dead flowers to my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the US mail Say it with dead flowers at my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave No I won't forget to put roses on your grave

Rolling Stones Back to zero So you wanna blow us all to pieces Go meet your maker, head hung down And give him all your explanations Go ahead, throw down Back to zero, back to nothing Straight to meltdown, back to zero That's where we're heading It's a monkey living on my back I can feel my spine begin to crack I'm looking to the future I keep on glancing back I prefer to rot I don't want to pop [ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/rolling_stones/back_to_zero.html ] I think I'll head back to the jungle, alright Don't want to see no big bad rumble, too fright Back to zero, that's where we're going Back to nothing, right now, right now No heroes? No more heroes Back to meltdown That's where I'm going, back to zero My whole life is hanging on a thread I'm the fly inside the spider's web I'm looking to the future I keep on glancing back I prefer to rot I don't want to pop I worry about my great grandchildren Living ten miles beneath the ground I worry about their whole existence The whole damn thing's in doubt Back to zero, that's where we're going Back to nothing, that's where we're heading Straight to meltdown, that's where we're going Back to zero, right now, right now We're going nowhere Right now, right now Back to zero, that's where we're heading Back to zero

Searching for answers, Of how we lost our way, Forgot how to play, You open a door, And at the end of the hall, There stands a ten foot wall. As you approach, You become blinded for a few, Your nostrils become filled with the scent of dew, When you listen for an all unforgettable tune, You flash back to old days, Filled with wondrous haze, With loved ones and praise, You awake on the shores of that black muddy river, And realize, He’s come to take his children home.

Lyrics By: Bob DylanMusic By: Bob Dylan They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor's filled with sailors The circus is in town In walks the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row Now Cinderella, she seems so easy "It takes one to know one," she smiles And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style And in walks Romeo, he's moaning "You belong to me I believe" And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend (note 1) You better leave" And the only sound that you can hear After the ambulances go Is Cinderella sweeping up On Desolation Row Now Ophelia, she's neath the window For her I feel so afraid On her twenty-second birthday She already is an old maid To her, death is quite romantic She wears an iron vest Her profession's her religion Her sin is her lifelessness And though her gaze is fixed upon Noah's great rainbow She spend her time peeking in On Desolation Row Einstein disguised as Robin Hood With his memories in a trunk Passed this way an hour ago With his friend, a jealous monk He looked so immaculately frightful As he bummed a cigarette Then he went off sniffing drainpipes And reciting the alphabet Now you would not think to look at him But he was famous long ago For playing the electric violin On Desolation Row Now the moon is almost hidden (note 2) The stars are beginning to hide The fortune telling lady Has already taken all her things inside All except for Cain and Abel And the hunchback of Notre Dame Everybody is making love Or else expecting rain And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing He's getting ready for the show He's going to the carnival tonight On Desolation Row Doctor Filth, he keeps his world Inside of a leather cup And all his sexless patients They're all trying to blow it up Now his nurse, some local loser She's in charge of the cyanide hole And she also keeps the cards that read "Have mercy on his soul" They all play on the penny whistle You can hear them blow If you lean your head out far enough On Desolation Row Across the street they've nailed the curtains They're getting ready for the feast The Phantom of the Opera In the perfect image of a priest They're spoonfeeding Casanova To get him to feel more assured Then they'll kill him with self-confidence After poisoning him with words And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls "Get out of here if you don't know" Casanova is just being punished for going To Desolation Row Now at midnight all the agents And the superhuman crew They go and round up everyone That knows more than they do They take them to the facory Where the heart attack machine Is strapped across their shoulders And then the kerosene Is brought down from the castles By insurance men who go Make sure nobody is escaping To Desolation Row Praise be to Nero's Neptune The Titanic sails at dawn Everybody's shouting "Which side are you on?" And Ezra Pound and T.S.Eliot They're fighting in the captain's tower While calypso singers laugh at them And fishermen throw flowers Between the windows of the sea Where lovely mermaids flow And no one has to think too much About Desolation Row Yes I received your letter yesterday About the time the doorknob broke When you asked how I was doing Was that some kind of joke? All these people that you mentioned Yes I know them they're quite lame I had to rearrange their faces And give them all another name Right now I can't read so good Don't send me no more letters, no Not unless you mail them From Desolation Row Played by Bob Weir with the Grateful Dead from the mid-1980s, as well as with Ratdog and Weir/Wasserman. (1) this line is as Weir sings it (and as on the 'official' Dylan lyrics). But I recently heard Chris Smither do a great (if truncated) version where he sang "... you're in the wrong play my friend" which is a great variant. (2) Bob Weir misses out this verse on the version on "Postcards Of The Hanging." He includes it on the version on "Downhill From Here" - but note that in the original Dylan version it's the third verse not the fifth. Thanks to Tim Cahalane for clearing this up for me.

Ty Cobb eats corn on the cob like a slob.Named in the Hall of Fame as the greatest outfielder, an all American leader. It was the bottom of ninth, the score tied. When a towering pop fly, soared into the sky. In sight in step Ty went to catch the ball when something went terribly wrong. What's that smell the drunks in the bleachers yelled. Where'd it come from, was it you, it wasn't me they argued angrily. It curled their noses most unpleasantly. Ty Cobb dropped a pop fly who on earth could answer why? The winning run crossed the plate was it an error in judgement, played out his fate. When the equpiment manager had to wash his pants. That's when the rumor started, thats how the truth came to past. Ty Cobb dropped the ball, because he farted corn. They say it sounded like a bull horn. Did you poop in your pants? the reporter asked. "I just misplayed the ball, you can't blame me at all"

=-=[`/`/HY HIT TIZ JOY US CHILL IN HELD EARZ}<(`-=-=-=[DEE FEET US MASSA BAY IT LA TERD}-=-=-==-=-=....this is for the tea~partay on the reefer guitar star wheel AXIS varios strata..~~~800 or so dancing girls on segwayz rigged with foam paint shakers up front and a butt shaker exersize belts and able to flip over with corn~shitz fountain of corn spraying out..banging their heads on the ground for the /\/\cameltokenz toupee phone ` fire at the open gentle, them useing 'T'shape turdz to pry feetus slathering spinning swastikr turdz hitting golf , tennis ,ping pong ,etc.spot on for the /\/\enu~shitwhattsikkzz (chain of fast food~Feest Folk Meel Mode) ,/\/\. in front of the huge buttox shaped hill behiend the Hippo zepher ,guitar shape reef looking up at the /\/\ ^ ..calm honest merkin burg~toy /\/\nteapython`esk etc... candle light vid~ [Feest~Folk~Meel Mode}<(`- '

Hurried to TunisiaGrabbed that plane Landed in London Khadaffy picked lamb from between his teeth

What the New Virgin Said to the Old Goat —for Henry Miller Don't get me started on how your writing (like lightning electrified Ben Franklin) lit my once extinguished wick, igniting long strings of sensations, then life sank in. No, don't let me tell how your purple prose (banned for decency's sake in fifty states) ripped my sense and resurrected a rose, which was propagated in Tropic's straits. And please don't fret me about hustling dough (not true grift, just soft fleece to foot a bill) as if only one of us came to know the poverty of the verb to fulfill. Now each day I live as art to master what once had been a fucking disaster.