Tag Archives: Music

Who Goes To Concerts To Listen Anyway?

The origin of Death Metal

Is really pretty neat:

They recorded Beatles fans

And set it to a beat.

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We’re All In The Mood For A Melody (And You Know The Rest)

“I’ve got a song for you Billy,”

The executive told Mr. Joel.

“It’s a song for the sad, lonely everyman

“And the pianist has a prominent role.”

“Sounds pretty fly,” Mr. Joel said,

“And I have but one simple request:

“I think we’ll have one short piano bit

“And let harmonica guy do the rest.”

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Starting A Band

Jimmy is our drummer

And Johnny plays guitar

And Danny knows a guy

Who knows a guy who owns a bar.

Eddy is our singer

And our charismatic face.

When we get to the venue

We’ll teach someone to play the bass.

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My Covenant

Some people with a time machine

Would cure diseases in the past,

Kill Hitler as a baby

To stop the Jews from being gassed,

See what dinosaurs were like

Or build the pyramids.

Some would travel back in time

To relive being kids.

If I had a time machine

I’d go to a monastery

Where people sang Gregorian chant

With ye olde Tomme, Dicke, and Harrye

And play the drum and violin parts

To the Halo menu song.

Some people would go to the future

To cure cancer, but they’re wrong.

You’re Welcome

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Hallelujah

There lived a man who wished to die,

With lips malformed so when he’d sigh

The anguish that emerged was like

The first sunrise of Spring.

The humans that he’d never known

Had from all places to him flown

With no intent to comfort him

But just to hear him sing.

The singer sang, the cryer cried

To oceans deep and mountains wide

And every human listener thought

The singer read their mind.

The speaker spoke, the moaner moaned.

His sorrows said, his hopes intoned

Leaving unspoken just enough,

Ensuring seekers find.

He screamed at them in loneliness:

A girl in far too short a dress

Confused by why she couldn’t find

A man who’d stay ’til morning

And, to the men who eyed her, said

To see her heart before her bed

But all they heard were pretty words

And not the singer’s warning.

He sang to those who owned the gold,

The young who’d never gotten old,

The old who’d never been a child,

To those without a penny.

His sharing was his means to cope.

His medicine was spreading hope

Perhaps to you, the listening few

Among the mindless many.

The living listened as he cried,

He sang also to those who died,

A song for all who made mistakes

And sought to change their fate.

Some say that Satan turned to hear

And even shed a single tear.

Although the angel fell from grace

His wings might still bear weight.

No one asked the singer’s name.

To his wake no listeners came

For clouds above were pearly white

And sky above was blue.

Thus did the singer move along.

No longer needed was his song.

The singer lives forever

Even though his wish came true.

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…Or Girls In General, For That Matter

“The devil plays the violin,

The instrument of mortal sin.”

I told her this, then said hello.

#How to not pick up girls who play cello

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If You Think This Poem Rhymes You Probably Aren’t Rich

You can tell if someone’s more likely

To play basketball or the harp

By whether they write #F

Or instead they write F#

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