Big lyrics.
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11 Jan 2010, 20:22
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Journals
"Oh we kidd ourselves that there is future in the fucking, but there is no fucking future"
Meez deems this a good lyric, what is your opinion?
Meez deems this a good lyric, what is your opinion?
best lyrics everStep one, You make your beta hard to play
It's only your fans that you betray.
Despite no good downloading speeds
Fileplanet still owns all your beta keys.
Wanna play? Then wait till Saturday
Still won't get one unless you pray.
Between the whine on IRC
Is this the game you really want to play?
Locki you went wrong, with your quake wars keys,
I'll just play Enemy Territory
And I hope you see that who, is to blame
Because of, how you killed your game.
Limit fps? Yeah you know best.
But why did you choose 30fps?
Gigantic maps that are all outdoor
I jus' wanna play, and not get bored
Vehicles? What the hell were you thinking?
Don't tell me about strogg reviving
When the game was revealed,
It just looked like battlefield.
Locki you went wrong, with your quake wars keys,
I'll just play Enemy Territory
And I hope you see that who, is to blame
Because of, how you killed your game.
ET and Quake it sounded good,
But it won't own quite like it should
None of my bullets ever hit,
The spread I don't like a little bit
Movement? It's slow like the gameplay
Maybe you could release a patch someday
The interface, is ugly too
Another thing for you to redo
Locki you went wrong, with your quake wars keys,
I'll just play Enemy Territory
And I hope you see that who, is to blame
Because of, how you killed your game.
Crossfire you went right, with your quake wars keys,
I'll enter your little key compy
And I hope that I will win a quake wars key
Because I, made a fool of meeeeee!
TosspoT, foonr, taLa; nellie and fusen,
Cash, raza, arni and chosen,
Crow, Max, PetriP, and the whole damn crew
Yeah you know, how to make a site.
TosspoT, foonr, taLa; nellie and fusen,
Cash, raza, arni and chosen,
Crow, Max, PetriP, and games-tee-vee.
Yeah you know, how to make a site.
[Please give me a key]
[Please give me a key]
link, cos you suck: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EtT2dImAwI#t=1m14s
wtfak mennn
Oh Laura - Release Me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYfsJ6rXgoc#t=0m30s
Would it all be absurd? Or might it make some kind of sense? I've mad myself sick wondering about it. I awake in the morning - just the way millions do, millions of boys, girls, infants and old men, their slumber dissipated forever... These millions, those slumbers have no meaning. A hidden meaning? Hidden, yes, "obviously"! But if nothing has any meaning, there's no point in my doing anything. I'll beg off. I'll use any deceitful means to get out of it, in the end I'll have to let go and sell myself to meaninglessness, nonsense: that is man's killer, the one who tortures and kills, not a glimmer of hope left. But if there is a meaning? Today I don't know what it is. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, who can tell me? Am I going to find out what it is? No, I can't conceive of any "meaning" other than "my" anguish, and as for that, I know all about it. And for the time being: nonsense. Monsieur Nonsense is writing and understands that he is mad. It's atrocious. But his madness, this meaninglessness - how "serious" it has become all of a sudden! - might that indeed be "meaningful"? My life has only a meaning insofar as I lack one: oh, but let me be mad! Make something of all this he who is able to, understand it he who is dying, and there the living self is, knowing not why, it's teeth chattering in the lashing wind: the immensity, the night engulfs it and, all on purpose, that living self is there just in order... "not to know". But as for GOD? GOD, if he knew, would be a swine. He would entirely grasp the idead... but what would there be of the human about him? Beyond, beyond everything... And yet farther, and even farther still... HIMSELF, in an ecstasy, above emptiness...
Cognitive activity: God comes to be known in ways that originate in God solely
God is nothing if He is not, in every sense, the surpassing of God:
in the sense of common everyday being, in the sense of dread,
horror and impurity, and, finally, in the sense of nothing...
He is mystery, indeed he is the absolute mystery
Divine disclosure is in direct proportion
To the degree of divine concealment
Intensification of revelation equals
To increasing of God's hiddenness
Descent of the Deus Absconditus
Vere tu es Deus Absconditus
The unreservedly open spirit - open to death, to torment, to joy -, the open spirit, open and dying, suffering and dying and happy, stands in a certain veiled light: that light is divine. And the cry that breaks from a twisted mouth may perhaps twist him who utters it, but what he speaks is an immense alleluia, flung into endless silence, and lost there.
Shall my only victory be available in conscience?
Why is absence the proof, when I demand palpable presence?
There is enough light to enlighten the elect and enough darkness to humble them.
There is enough darkness to blind the reprobate and enough clarity to condemn them,
And make them without excuse.
Our perception is subject to the fissure of concupiscence
Woestruck am I realising that the light cast on this
Chiaroscuro world is partial and selective
Division, election and predestination
Enabled by grace or left to one's own device...
Anguish is only sovereign absolute. The sovereign is a king no more: it dwells in low-biding in big cities. It knits itself up in silence, obscurring its sorrow. Crouching thick-wrapped, there it waits, lies waiting for the advent of Him who shall strike a general terror; but meanwhile and even so sorrow scornfully mocks at all that comes to pass, and all there is.
From very high above a kind of stillness swept down unpon me and froze me
It was as though I were borne aloft in a flight of headless and unbodied angels
Shaped rom the broad swooping of wings, but it was simpler than that.
I became unhappy and felt painfully forsaken, as one is when in the presence of God.
She was seated, she held one leg stuck up in the air, to open her crack
Yet wider she used fingers to draw the folds of skin apart.
And so her "old rag and ruin" loured at me, hairy and pink,
Just as full of life as some loathsome squid.
"Why", I stammered in a subdued tone, "Why are you doing that?"
"You can see for yourself", she said, "I'm God".
No use laying it all up to irony when I say of here that she is GOD. But GOD figured as a public whore and gone crazy - that, viewed through the optic of "philosophy", makes no sense at all. I don't mind having sorrow derided if derided it has to be, he only will grasp me aright whose heart holds a wound that is an incurable wound, who never, for anything, in any way, would be cured of it... And what man, if so wounded, would ever be willing to "die" of any other hurt?
If there is nothing that surpasses our powers and our understanding,
If we do not acknowledge something greater than ourselves,
Greater than we are despite ourselves,
Something which at all costs must not be,
Then we do not reach the insensate moment towards we strive
With all this is in our power and which at the same time
We exert with all our power to stave off.
I can utter no word, O my God, unless I be permitted by Thee,
And can move in no direction until I obtain Thy sanction.
It is Thou, O my God, Who hast called me into being through the power
Of Thy might, and hast endued me with Thy grace to manifest Thy cause.
The act whereby being - existence - is bestowed upon us is an unbearable surpassing of being, an act no less unbearable than that of dying. And since, in death, being is take away from us at the same time it is given to us, we must seek for it in the feeling of dying, in those unbearable moments when it seems to us that we are dying because the existence in us, during these interludes, exists through nothing but a sustaining and ruinous excess, when the fullness of horror and that of joy coincide.
As I waited for annihilation, all that subsisted in me
Seemed to me to be the dross over which man's life tarries...
"Diabolus Absconditus": the conjunction of intellect in psychotropic-altered
senses supported by insinsted and archaic sounds.
Can't find these lyrics ANYWHERE.
FOR HIS PRIVATE SHELF
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The warm sun will never touch me again cause the ice is getting thicker around my cold and broken hearth
i think they got some nice/funny lyrics, like that line!
I'd love to go back to when we played as kids
but things changed, and that's the way it is.
Yeah that's a good idea.
Hey Howard, how are you doing?
Yeah Howard.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHHHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHHA
You guys are crazy man!
Hey Howard, i was breathing oxigen today.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Howard, i was wondering if you had like, that Napalm Death album?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oh, you guys are insane!
You guys are crazy!
Hey Howard, I was walking on the sidewalk today.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Hey Howard, I was wondering, you know like,
you like have a pencil or something?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
But I refused the offer, 'cuz God sent me to strike
With skills unused like fallopian tubes on a dyke
Give me a hundred grand, give me your watch, give me your chain.
That's your girl? Bitch, get over here and give me some brain.
I'll bust off on her face and right after the segment,
She'll probably rub it in her pussy, trying to get herself pregnant.
Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.
Running over the same old ground,
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
most epic
curled up and warm like easter's child
a breath so faint, angelic weight
i can't deny
that i drift sometimes
even in these loving moments
to summery fields i call my own
where i can lie and in them feel
at one with my death
with limbs outstretched
i can't deny
that i'm weak sometimes
even in my strongest moments
and the way you cry at me
i don't know why
you stay
______________________
so much that i can't say to you
my voice shakes from the hurt that i hide
ashamed of my existence
and of my petty often wounded pride
i'd like to come home to see you
and to catch your sickness by the bedside
but then you'd know how much i really need you
all the love in an instant
makes my life stop
but then my hate for you
makes my feelings altogether drop
if only i were blind to your selfish fling
and your desperate cause
and didn't press you for the details
that threaten my physical flaws
i'd like to come home to see you
and embrace your illness under soft light
but then you'd know how much i really need you
all the love in an instant
makes my life stop
but then my hate for you
makes my feelings altogether drop
so much that i can say to you
with affection that i burn inside
you're aching from the distance
avoiding strain that's running still alive
if only i could heal you in the sprinkling of the ocean side
but then you'd know how much i really love you
all the love in an instant
makes my life stop
but then my hate for you
makes my feelings altogether drop
RHP epicness, Mark Kozelek is a god.