A rather strange band I listen to:
Into Another - 'May I?'
May I Love you madly
like a boy?
Kiss you sadly?
Feed you tears and drink your skin?
Invite myself right in?
May I?
Her
Half-child voice falls on my head like warmest ocean waves
GENTLY and deliberately drowning me
And WILLINGLY I drown.
If I ask politely
Will you watch as I die nightly?
Would you think me TACTLESS if I act LESS like the man I am?
May I?
Her
Half-closed eyes like those,
on a tired TIGERESS.
Gently and deliberately melt my BULLETPROOF MIRRORSHADES
AND
Knowingly
Lovingly
Peer inside at MY REAL EYES
And I can't help but SMILE
No I can't help.
-tigeress-
Would you think me thoughtless
If I thought less of myself from time to time,
Or if I knowingly, willingly lost what's left of my MIND
Oh, I can't help but smile
No, I can't help.
Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;
For we've received orders for to sail for ole England,
But we hope in a short time to see you again.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
We hove our ship to with the wind from sou'west, boys
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take;
'Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom,
So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
The first land we sighted was called the Dodman,
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, off Portsmouth the Wight;
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlight and Dover,
And then we bore up for the South Foreland light.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,
And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper!
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.
Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper,
And let ev'ry man drink off his full glass;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues.