Lyrics / Chris Norman - Official Site
each time i sleep i'm sad i will be replaced by somebody else in the morning exactly like i don't know how i'm meant to say this it's all too easy to say goodbye Gods Tower - Rising Arrows. We`ll meet again my friend. Know something about this song or lyrics? They told me that the end is near We can meet again somewhere pugliablog.info's not what they really said. . This song to me is a goodbye to something and its so heartbreaking . When the times are really hard, we must turn towards God before we come to the point of. quot;Land of Song," said the warrior bard, quot;Tho' all the God of the rivers and the waterfalls. God of thunder Make your songs again you must always sing. God of sun We'll meet again. When the I'll never know what brought him to where he finally stood Together they were there to say farewell.
I serve as good a man as you. Draw, if you be men. Put up your swords. Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. Put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground! Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
Right glad I am he was not at this fray. Misshapen chaos of well seeming forms. Sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Where shall we dine? What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O any thing, of nothing first create! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead-- [Benvolio Snickers] Dost thou not laugh? I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? My child is yet a stranger in the world; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, At my poor house look to behold this night Fresh female buds that make dark heaven light. Hear all, all see, Come, go with me.
And she's fair I love. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Good day, good fellow. Signior Placentio and his lovely daughters. The lady widow of Vitravio; and her lovely nieces Rosaline.
Nurse, where's my daughter? What is your will? Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. Nurse, Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. Thus then in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Lady, such a man As all the world- -why, he's a man of wax. So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less.
But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent to give strength to make it fly. Never be caught up, caught up like Rosaline and thee. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
It is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men's noses as they lie asleep; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she--This is she!
Thou talk'st of nothing. MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew- dropping south.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! I have seen the day That I could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please. Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. Let him alone; I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: I say, he shall: For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. JULIET Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh! O, Romeo that she were An open ass, and thou a poperin pear!
I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; oh cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! O, speak again, bright angel! Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. O, be some other name! What's in a name?
O Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.
Poems and Prayers
The garden walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. ROMEO With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens.
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay And follow thee my lord throughout the world. To-morrow will I send. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee? Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow. Within the infant rind of this weak flower poison is resident and medicine power: Two such empossed kings encamp them still in man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; and where the worser is predominant, full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
What early tounge so sweet saludeth me? My ghostly father no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. We met, we wooed, we made exchange of vow.
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, that thou consent to marry us today. Is Rosaline that thou didst love so dear so soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts but in their eyes.
Thy love read by rote and could not spell.
Come, young waverer, come, go with me, In one respect I'll thy assistant be; for this alliance may so happy prove, to turn you household rachor to pure love. Came he not home to-night? Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. He is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick- song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; he rests his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
What counterfeit did I give you? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature. Will you come to your father's? Fie, how my bones ache! I pray thee, speak. Do you not see that I am out of breath? Is the news good, or bad? What says he of our marriage? Other' other side,--O, my back. Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? NURSE Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?
How oddly thou repliest! Your love says, like an honest gentleman, Where is your mother? Are you so hot? Henceforward do your messages yourself. Come, what says Romeo? And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in it's own deliciousness. Romeo, shall thank the daughter for us both. The day is hot. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says, "God send me no need of thee.
A word with one of you? Couple it with something. Make it a word and a And you will give me occasion. Thou art consortest with Romeo? What does thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us look to hear nothing of discords. Here's that shall make you dance! Here all eyes gaze on us. I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
The love I bear thee can afford no better term than this. Thou art a villain! I see thou Knowest me not. And so good Capulet who's name I tender as dearly as mine own, Be satisfied. Thou art my souls hate! You ratcatcher, will you walk? So this is your sixth album, your first to draw on this Shakespearian background. You've been performing quite a while. It's always been in my bloodstream, but I think I was very intentional about keeping these two lives very separate.
And then last year, I ended up losing my voice for about two months. You lost your voice. Now, this had to be an incredibly disruptive thing. You know, honestly, I woke up one day, and I couldn't talk, and it didn't come back, and it didn't come back. So I got under the care of a doctor, and it turned out to be a lot of stress.
But I was told to be on vocal rest for two months, which, as a singer, that's how I make my living. And so I was going through this period of, like, what if this is it? What if I have to do something else?
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And in that time period, I just started reading a lot. For some reason, I had the collected work sitting on my desk, and I started rereading these plays. It doesn't mean that, you know, the voices inside your head don't go quiet when you go quiet. So some of my own lyrics were kind of coming back at me, and they were talking to some of these snippets of Shakespearian dialog. My guest is Amy Speace, and her new album is a collection of songs inspired by Shakespeare.
It's called "How to Sleep in a Stormy Boat. This is actor Nick Dillenburg, and he's playing King Lear. A few excerpts from that play, and they lead into the title track of this album, "How to Sleep in a Stormy Boat. You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks. When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
Singing Red sky ahead of the morning sun. And I've heard it said that's when trouble comes. This is just another really powerful piece.
Why did you choose this as the title track? I felt like it was - it says everything. The whole record, to me, is almost like an old-school navigation journal - how to get through something that seems so impossible to get through in order to survive and thrive. So, you know, I see this record almost like the stages of grief - letting go of a love or letting go of a life or letting go of a dream, and then coming to the other side of it a better person for having gone through it.
Singing Teach me how to sleep, how to sleep in a stormy boat. It's not about the storm, and it's not about the water. It's really about the boat, the shell of the thing that you are and that's raging, how to sit in grief and wait it out because it'll change.
Well, let's turn to one of Shakespeare's great tragic heroines, and that would be Juliet, "Romeo and Juliet," and here, again, is actress Erin Copp and the song, "Hesitate. And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun. That passage, I love the end of that: He will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.
I have bought the mansion of a love and not yet possessed it.
Song Lyrics Archives - Cold Chisel
That's like my favorite passage in Shakespeare. And Nielson Hubbard and I, the producer, wrote this song together. And I spoke these lines to him. I said to him: I think we need to end this record with this, whatever this is going to be, you know, this idea of somebody just looking down on their life from the stars and knowing, you know, it's all going to be okay.
And to me, the end of this record is at the end, we have ourselves. And that's good enough that even with all of this pain and joy, that in the end, what we've got are our stories. Her new album is called "How to Sleep in a Stormy Boat," and you can hear a few songs on our website, nprmusic.
God knows when we shall meet again. Thanks for having me, Jacki. Singing In my dream, I can fly, above this house into the sky. Check out our weekly podcast.