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little song

what if your smile so good
what if your fail 's mine win
don't you misunderstood
when red thin line so thin.

Just you've got me, babe,
got me with your soul
got me with your kindness,
thank you for that all.

this is not the end -- the ends,
ends mean the ways -- to out
mean no more dead ends
mean we can find out

you woman, alwais be mine
i, man. always be your's
we both always be fine
we always be both.

By Flower Poet

current mood

WE’RE foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa!
Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin’ over Africa—
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!

Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an’-twenty mile to-day—
Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before—
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!

Don’t—don’t—don’t—don’t—look at what’s in front of you.
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again!)
Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin’ ’em,
And there’s no discharge in the war!

Try—try—try—try—to think o’ something different—
Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin’ lunatic!
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!

Count—count—count—count—the bullets in the bandoliers.
If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o’ you
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!

We—can—stick—out—’unger, thirst, an’ weariness,
But—not—not—not—not the chronic sight of ’em—
Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again!
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!

’Tain’t—so—bad—by—day because o’ company,
But—night—brings—long—strings—o’ forty thousand million
Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again.
There’s no discharge in the war!

I—’ave—marched—six—weeks in ’Ell an’ certify
It—is—not—fire—devils—dark or anything,
But boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again,
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!

By Redyard Kipling.

wrong song

It's hard to explain, like a gold from the ore
like sing for a man who's first time on a stage
but I think you're a kid of the previous age
for this reason, my friend, i can tell you more.

we were too naive and actual kids now call us old fashion
call us square and straight, and they're perfectly right
i was a kid and living with no explanation
do you remember this time? gone with the night.

The legend of Stagger Lee

The legend of Stagger Lee is one of the most important and enduring stories from American folklore.  It is a tale that comes from the African-American oral tradition, and it has also become a very popular story within the white community.

 There are many different versions of the tale, but here is the general storyline.  Stagger Lee (also known as Stagolee, Stack O' Lee, Stackerlee, Stackalee etc.) gets into a dispute with a man named Billy DeLyon (also known as Billy the Lion or  Billy Lyons) after losing his Stetson hat to Billy while gambling.  Stagger Lee pulls a gun--sometimes identified as a .45, other times as a "smokeless .44"--on Billy who then pleads to be spared for the sake of his wife and children.  Showing no compassion at all, Stagger Lee cold-bloodedly shoots and kills his opponent.  

The killer's reputation for "badness" is a key to the story.  According to some classic musical recordings of the legend (such as "Mississippi" John Hurt's "Stack O'Lee Blues"), the authorities are too frightened of Stagger Lee to arrest him for his crime.  In some versions of the tale, he is eventually caught by the authorities, but the judge refuses to sentence him to prison because he fears that the badman will strike back against him.   In certain tellings of the story, Stagger Lee appears in hell after he is killed or executed, but is so "bad" that he takes control of the devil's kingdom and turns it into his own badman's paradise.

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