Some Mondays

Some mondays you know that you should have stayed in bed. Some mondays are too rainy, too hung over, too busy, and too much work for not staying in. Some mondays I know to be all about the comfort of my bed and not about sour cold coffee and locked doors. Some mondays I'd prefer to be just a long sunday night.


The silicon chip inside her head
Gets switched to overload
And nobody’s gonna go to school today
She’s gonna make them stay at home
And daddy doesn’t understand it
He always said she was good as gold
And he can see no reasons
'Cos there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be show-ow-ow-ow-own?

Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
I wanna shoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oot the whole day down

The Telex machine is kept so clean
And it types to a waiting world
And mother feels so shocked
Father’s world is rocked
And their thoughts turn to their own little girl
Sweet 16 ain’t that peachy keen
Now that ain’t so neat to admit defeat
They can see no reasons
'Cos there are no reasons
What reasons do you need?
Oh Oh Oh Oh

Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
I wanna shoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oot
The whole day down, down, down, shoot it all down

And all the playing's stopped in the playground now
She wants to play with the toys a while
And school's out early and soon we'll be learning
And the lesson today is how to die
And then the bullhorn crackles
And the captain tackles
(With the problems of the how's and why's)
And he can see no reasons
'Cos there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die, die?
Oh Oh Oh

Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like
I don’t like (Tell me why)
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don’t like
I don’t like (Tell me why)
I don’t like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I wanna shoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oot the whole day down.

B. Geldof

Almost six o'clock

Well, there are those nights that you instantly fall asleep the moment you hit anything soft and pillowish, and there are those nights when you get to see the sunrise before going to bed. I must confess that I enjoy those nights that will never end. Chatting away with friends far away, listening to Waits. This has been such a night. But, now one might say it is nearing closing time.

Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you
'Cause falling in love just makes me blue,
Well the music plays and you display your heart for me to see,
I had a beer and now I hear you calling out for me
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Well the room is crowded, people everywhere
And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
Well if you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it,
Before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it,
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Well the night does funny things inside a man
These old tom-cat feelings you don't understand,
Well I turn around to look at you, you light a cigarette,
I wish I had the guts to bum one, but we've never met,
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

I can see that you are lonesome just like me, and it being late,
You'd like some some company,
Well I turn around to look at you, and you look back at me,
The guy you're with has up and split, the chair next to you's free,
And I hope that you don't fall in love with me.

Now it's closing time, the music's fading out
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.
Well I turn around to look at you, you're nowhere to be found,
I search the place for your lost face, guess I'll have another round
And I think that I just fell in love with you.

T.Waits

Misty Mountains on the Way Home

There are some rather pleasant sights to see whilst driving home over the mountains, by driving I mean of course relaxing on a train that moves steadily, listening to the exquisite words of an Oxonian don read aloud by a tremendously British fellow, one can enjoy a magnificent vista of pure white. This is what I newly have experienced. Would it were just a few hours shorter. I came to think, when, as mentioned, listening to the hazardous adventures read in a outstandingly soft tone, about misty mountains. I must say that I find it most disturbing to see people dressed up in strange contraptions ready to fling themselves down from a mountain top. But then again, having spent quite a few Easters in a somewhat gray city just around April, I remembered a small poem by Carl Sandburg:

"Just Before April Came"

The Snow piles in dark places are gone.
Pools by the railroad tracks shine clear.
The gravel of all shallow places shines.
A white pigeon reels and somersaults.

Frogs plutter and squdge - and frogs beat the air with a recurring thin
steel sliver of melody.
Crows go in fives and tens; they march their black feathers past a blue pool; they celebrate an old festival.
A spider is trying his webs, a pink bug sits on my hand washing his forelegs.
I might ask: Who are these people?

An Angel in the Library

There's a book called
"A Dictionary of Angels."
No one has opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered

The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.

Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.

She's very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.

I hear nothing, but she does.

C. Simic

Gentleman Alone

The young maricones and the horny muchachas, The big fat widows delirious from insomnia, The young wives thirty hours' pregnant, And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night, Like a collar of palpitating sexual oysters Surround my solitary home, Enemies of my soul, Conspirators in pajamas Who exchange deep kisses for passwords. Radiant summer brings out the lovers In melancholy regiments, Fat and thin and happy and sad couples; Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon, There is a continual life of pants and panties, A hum from the fondling of silk stockings, And women's breasts that glisten like eyes. The salary man, after a while, After the week's tedium, and the novels read in bed at night, Has decisively fucked his neighbor, And now takes her to the miserable movies, Where the heroes are horses or passionate princes, And he caresses her legs covered with sweet down With his ardent and sweaty palms that smell like cigarettes. The night of the hunter and the night of the husband Come together like bed sheets and bury me, And the hours after lunch, when the students and priests are masturbating, And the animals mount each other openly, And the bees smell of blood, and the flies buzz cholerically, And cousins play strange games with cousins, And doctors glower at the husband of the young patient, And the early morning in which the professor, without a thought, Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast, And to top it all off, the adulterers, who love each other truly On beds big and tall as ships: So, eternally, This twisted and breathing forest crushes me With gigantic flowers like mouth and teeth And black roots like fingernails and shoes.

P. Neruda

Just Take Five

Just stop and take a little time out with me.
Oh just take five, just take five.
Stop your busy day and take the time out to see
that I'm alive, I'm alive.

Oh, though I'm going out of my way
Just so I can pass by each day
not a single word do we say
It's a pantomine, I'm out of time.
Still I know our eyes often meet,
I feel tingles down to my feet,
When you smile, that's much too discreet.
Sends me on my way.

Now wouldn't it be better not to be so polite
when you could offer a light?
Just start a little conversation now, it's alright
when you're taking five...(ah-ha)

Five!


Won't ya take a little time out with me (my pretty)
Baby take five.
Stop your busy day and take the time to see, girl, that i'm alive
Though I'm going out of my way
Just so I can pass by each day
Not a single word do we say
It's a pantomine, I'm out of time
Still I know our eyes often meet,
I feel tingles down to my feet,
When you smile, that's much too discreet.
Sends me on my way.

Wouldn't it be better not to be so polite, pretty mama
Don't you know that you could offer me a light?
Start a little conversation now, it's alright
when you're taking five...


Won't ya take a little time out with me, girl
Come take five
Stop your busy day and take the time to see that I'm alive
Oh, though I'm going out of my way
so I can pass by each day
not a single word do we say
It's a pantomine, I'm out of time
Still I know our eyes often meet,
I feel tingles down to my feet,
When you smile, that's much too discreet.
Sends me on my way.

Baby,just don't say hello and do not stare
you could offer your hand
hugging and a-chugging it could be so grand
oh take fiiive

If you want to

A. Jarreau