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what are you listening to ?

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  • Some contry music is good. I like Rascall Flatts also. Their songs are so sweet.
    Ooooh, and how can I forget Jimmy Wayne. Excellent songs. Very modern. lol. I hate Toby Keith's style and his type/style of country music.

    Right now I'm listening to ~
    Martina McBride - Concrete Angel
    I see...


    • Evanescense - My immortal
      Nothing .. Inte容sting


      • All my loving- Beatles
        Words are stronger than weapons of massdestruction- Me


        • Ha nina - Harout
          coming up next some, armenian 'kef' music...mal barsamian, mirage, john b,
          Last edited by jilbagh; 04-28-2004, 03:39 AM.
          Magic Johnson 2008


          • Mendelssohn...*A Midsummer Night's Dream*... it relieves from nervous soft and enervate....awesome....

            I'm a monstrous mass of vile, foul & corrupted matter.


            • Karmir Fstan!

              I love this song!


              • Bruce Springsteen - Dancing In The Dark
                Science without religion is lame; religion without science is blind.
                ~Albert Einstein

                Stress - The confusion created when one's mind overrides the body's basic desire to choke the living daylights out of some jerk who desperately deserves it.


                • A Bunch of Lonesome Heroes

                  by Leonard Cohen

                  A bunch of lonesome and very quarrelsome heroes
                  were smoking out along the open road;
                  the night was very dark and thick between them,
                  each man beneath his ordinary load.
                  "I'd like to tell my story,"
                  said one of them so young and bold,
                  "I'd like to tell my story,
                  before I turn into gold."
                  But no one really could hear him,
                  the night so dark and thick and green;
                  well I guess that these heroes must always live there
                  where you and I have only been.
                  Put out your cigarette, my love,
                  you've been alone too long;
                  and some of us are very hungry now
                  to hear what it is you've done that was so wrong.

                  I sing this for the crickets,
                  I sing this for the army,
                  I sing this for your children
                  and for all who do not need me.
                  "I'd like to tell my story,"
                  said one of them so bold,
                  "Oh yes, I'd like to tell my story
                  'cause you know I feel I'm turning into gold."
                  Achkerov kute.


                  • Love Calls You By Your Name
                    by Leonard Cohen

                    You thought that it could never happen
                    to all the people that you became,
                    your body lost in legend, the beast so very tame.
                    But here, right here,
                    between the birthmark and the stain,
                    between the ocean and your open vein,
                    between the snowman and the rain,
                    once again, once again,
                    love calls you by your name.

                    The women in your scrapbook
                    whom you still praise and blame,
                    you say they chained you to your fingernails
                    and you climb the halls of fame.
                    Oh but here, right here,
                    between the peanuts and the cage,
                    between the darkness and the stage,
                    between the hour and the age,
                    once again, once again,
                    love calls you by your name.

                    Shouldering your loneliness
                    like a gun that you will not learn to aim,
                    you stumble into this movie house,
                    then you climb, you climb into the frame.
                    Yes, and here, right here
                    between the moonlight and the lane,
                    between the tunnel and the train,
                    between the victim and his stain,
                    once again, once again,
                    love calls you by your name.

                    I leave the lady meditating
                    on the very love which I, I do not wish to claim,
                    I journey down the hundred steps,
                    but the street is still the very same.
                    And here, right here,
                    between the dancer and his cane,
                    between the sailboat and the drain,
                    between the newsreel and your tiny pain,
                    once again, once again,
                    love calls you by your name.

                    Where are you, Judy, where are you, Anne?
                    Where are the paths your heroes came?
                    Wondering out loud as the bandage pulls away,
                    was I, was I only limping, was I really lame?
                    Oh here, come over here,
                    between the windmill and the grain,
                    between the sundial and the chain,
                    between the traitor and her pain,
                    once again, once again,
                    love calls you by your name.
                    Achkerov kute.


                    • A Singer Must Die

                      by Leonard Cohen

                      Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess.
                      Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is Yes.
                      Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine,
                      I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline.
                      And all the ladies go moist, and the judge has no choice,
                      a singer must die for the lie in his voice.
                      And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty,
                      you keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty.
                      Your vision is right, my vision is wrong,
                      I'm sorry for smudging the air with my song.

                      Oh, the night it is thick, my defences are hid
                      in the clothes of a woman I would like to forgive,
                      in the rings of her silk, in the hinge of her thighs,
                      where I have to go begging in beauty's disguise.
                      Oh goodnight, goodnight, my night after night,
                      my night after night, after night, after night, after night, after night.

                      I am so afraid that I listen to you,
                      your sun glassed protectors they do that to you.
                      It's their ways to detain, their ways to disgrace,
                      their knee in your balls and their fist in your face.
                      Yes and long live the state by whoever it's made,
                      sir, I didn't see nothing, I was just getting home late.
                      Achkerov kute.