趣味 仕樣所: Some songs you gotta know

不聽歌就睡覺吧。



In A Manner Of Speaking



In a Manner of speaking
I just want to say
That I could never forget the way
You told me everything
By saying nothing

In a manner of speaking
I don't understand
How love in silence becomes reprimand
But the way that i feel about you
Is beyond words

Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Ohohohoh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything

In a manner of speaking
Semantics won't do
In this life that we live we only make do
And the way that we feel
Might have to be sacrificed

So in a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That just like you I should find a way
To tell you everything
By saying nothing.

Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Ohohohoh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything

Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Ohohohoh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything


Friday Nights, Saturday Mornings




Out of bed at eight AM
Out my head by half past ten 

Out with mates and dates and friends 

That's what I do at weekends 



I can't talk and I can't walk 

But I know where I'm going to go 

I'm going watch my money go 

At the Locarno



When my feet go through the door 

I know what my right arm is for 

Buy a drink and pull a chair 

Up to the edge of the dance floor 

Bouncers bouncing through the night 

Trying to stop or start a fight 

I sit and watch the flashing lights 

Moving legs in footless tights 



I go out on Friday night

And I come home on Saturday morning 

I go out on Friday night

And I come home on Saturday morning 



I like to venture into town 

I like to get a few drinks down 

The floor gets packed the bar gets full 

I don't like life when things get dull 



The hen party have saved the night 

And freed themselves from drunken stags 

Having fun and dancing

In a circle round their leather bags 



I go out on Friday night

And I come home on Saturday morning 

I go out on Friday night

And I come home on Saturday morning 



But two o'clock has come again 

It's time to leave this paradise 

Hope the chip shop isn't closed 

Cos' their pies are really nice 



I'll eat in the taxi queue 

Standing in someone else's spew 

Wish I had lipstick on my shirt 

Instead of piss stains on my shoes 




-----

I think we all have something on the base we knew pretty well,
but we never spit it out, or I never found out until now.

You sensed something, like a smell or a hunch, something we can't make sure about,
like a shadow hided there, when you turn around, it's just gone.

Is it some kind of weird whispering?
I have no idea.

When I try to type the word we don't use often,
you just feed it back influentially without any hesitation.
A word.