Thursday, February 23, 2006

"Only Capone kills guys like that!", said Bugs Moran after learning that seven of his men had been killed in a warehouse on Clark Street.

you stuck a dagger in my heart
had your wedding ring in my hand
i was goin' to propose today
even chose my best man

it was one of your best friends
now that i'm gone
maybe he'll give you a hand



the black cloud of dead
raised upon my head
and you came to tuck me in gently
in my dyin' bed

and you standed by my side
till you were shure i was dead

Thursday, February 09, 2006

all of them headin' places, where they have to be, right in front of me



Christmas is now dead and gone, looks like no one feels the same. Stranded waitin' on bus stations, with their heads hung in shame.

Gipsy kid in her arms, mother sitin' on a bench. Pregnant girl standin' by her, speakin' loudly in french.

Fathers buyin' for their kids, coloured plastic toy guns. Wonder if they know what they're doin', with their proud soldier sons.

Everybody talks these days, but I just can't hear a sound. Old Friends I used to know, wish I still knew them now.

Green cross upon the drugstore, flashin' in my eyes. Old Lady tryin' on a coat, at least half-size.

And I'm sitin' here watchin', just across the street. With my palm hands all sweaty, and my cold bare feet.

Well your daddy must be waitin', for you to pick the phone . It's your birthday tomorrow, guess you should be headin' home.

Student walkin' with her suitcase, wonder where she goes. Almost followed her footsteps, but I can't feel my toes.

Sean Riley

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Lisbon, 08.02.06


I’m taking a ride
With my best friend
I hope he never lets me down again
He knows where he’s taking me
Taking me where I want to be
I’m taking a ride
With my best friend

We’re flying high
We’re watching the world pass us by
Never want to come down
Never want to put my feet back down on the ground

I’m taking a ride
With my best friend
I hope he never lets me down again
Promises me I’m as safe as houses
As long as I remember who’s wearing the trousers
I hope he never lets me down again

Never let me down

See the stars, they’re shining bright
Everything’s alright tonight

Sunday, January 22, 2006

I Was Young When I Left Home



I was young when i left home
An' I been out a-ramblin' round
An' I never wrote a letter to my home
To my home, lord, to my home
An' I never wrote a letter to my home.

It was just the other day
I was bringin' home my pay
When i met an' old friend i used to know
Said, "Your mother is dead an' gone
An' your sisters all gone wrong
An' your daddy needs you home right away.''

Not a shirt on my back
Not a penny on my name
But I can't go home this a-way
This a-way, lord, this a-way
An' I can't go home this a-way.

If you miss the train I'm on
Count the days I'm gone
You will hear that whistle blow hundred miles
Hundred miles, honey baby, lord, lord, lord
An' you'll hear that whistle blow hundred miles.

An' I'm playin' on a track, ma'd come an' woop me back
On them trusses down by Ol' Jim McKay's
When I pay the debt i own to the commissary store
I will pawn my watch an' chain an' go home
Go home, lord, lord, lord
I will pawn my watch an' chain an' go home.

Used to tell my ma sometimes
When I see them ridin' blind
Gonna make me a home out in the wind
In the wind, lord in the wind
Make me a home out in the wind.

I don't like it in the wind
I go back home again
But i can't go home this a-way
This a-way, lord, lord, lord
An' i can go home this a-way.

I was young when i left home
An' I been out a-ramblin' round
An' I never wrote a letter to my home
To my home, lord, to my home
An' I never wrote a letter to my home.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

HELL'S ANGELS by Hunter S. Thompson


"We're the one percenters, man-the one percent that don't fit and don´t care. So don't talk to me abaut your doctor bills and your traffic warrants-i mean you get your woman and your bike and your banjo and i mean you're on your way. We've punched our way out of a hundred rumbles, stayed alive with our boots and our fists. We're royalty among motorcycle outlaws, baby.

-A Hell's Angel speaking for the permanent record"

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Chanson de la Plus Haute Tour



Oisive jeunesse
À tout asservie
Par délicatesse
J'ai perdu ma vie.
Ah! Que le temps vienne
Où les coeurs s' éprennent!

Down at Bourbon Street



At the gates of the city his entrance was refused,
he wasn't told why, they seemed confused.
A hotel in the suburbs, down at Burbon Street,
no hot watter bath and white tangled sheets.
They arrived from the coast, to spend christmas at home,
the only presents they got, they could not really own.
They'll soon rise up, the bed remains unmade,
as the all whole world watches, the landscape that fades.

sean riley

Friday, January 06, 2006

Love Minus Zero / No Limit



My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.

Jack Kerouac


"I'd rather be thin than famous."