



Back In the U.S.S.R.
The Beatles
Oh, flew in by Miami Beach B.O.A.C.
Didn’t get to bed last night
On the way the paper bag was on my knee
Man I had a dreadful flight
I’m back in the U.S.S.R.
You don’t know how lucky you are boy
Back in the U.S.S.R. (Yeah)
Been away so long I hardly knew the place
Gee it’s good to be back home
Leave it ’til tomorrow to unpack my case
Honey disconnect the phone
I’m back in the U.S.S.R.
You don’t know how lucky you are boy
Back in the U.S.
Back in the U.S.
Back in the U.S.S.R.
Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the West behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
That Georgia’s always on my my my my my my my my my mind
Aw come on!
Ho yeah!
Ho yeah!
Ho ho yeah!
Yeah yeah!
Yeah I’m back in the U.S.S.R.
You don’t know how lucky you are boys
Back in the U.S.S.R.
Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the West behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
That Georgia’s always on my my my my my my my my my mind
Oh, show me ’round your snow-peaked mountains way down south
Take me to your daddy’s farm
Let me hear your balalaikas ringing out
Come and keep your comrade warm
I’m back in the U.S.S.R.
Hey you don’t know how lucky you are boys
Back in the U.S.S.R.
Oh let me tell you, honey
Hey, I’m back!
I’m back in the U.S.S.R.
Yes, I’m free!
Yeah, back in the U.S.S.R.
Ha ha
To One in Paradise
The Alan Parsons Project
IF I could see the sky above
And my mind could be set free
As wild white horses reached the shore
I’d stand alone and oversee
And if the bush before me burns
Should I turn my eyes away?
And still the voices I can hear
As clear to me as light of day
I believed in my dreams
Nothing could change my mind
Now I know what they mean
How could I be so blind?
Cold sands of time
(Winds that blow as cold as ice
Sounds that come in the night)
Shall hide what is left on me
(Come from Paradise)
I’ve been through times when no one cared
(Words that were mine)
I’ve seen clouds in empty skies
When one kind word meant more to me
(Shall last as a memory)
Than all the love in Paradise
I believed in my dreams
Nothing could change my mind
Till I found what they mean
Nothing can save me now
After The Thrill Is Gone
The Eagles
Same dances in the same old shoes
Some habits that you just can’t lose
There’s no telling what a man might lose,
After the thrill is gone
The flame rises but it soon descends
Empty pages and a frozen pen
You’re not quite lovers and you’re not quite friends
After the thrill is gone, oh,
After the thrill is gone
What can you do when your dreams come true
And it’s not quite like you planned?
What have you done to be losing the one
You held it so tight in your hand well
Time passes and you must move on,
Half the distance takes you twice as long
So you keep on singing for the sake of the song
After the thrill is gone
After the thrill is gone
You’re afraid you might fall out of fashion
And you’re feeling cold and small
Any kind of love without passion
That ain’t no kind of lovin’ at all, well
Same dances in the same old shoes
You get too careful with the steps you choose
You don’t care about winning but you don’t want to lose
After the thrill is gone
After the thrill is gone
My Back Pages
Bob Dylan
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin’ high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
“We’ll meet on edges, soon,” said I
Proud ‘neath heated brow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now.
Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
“Rip down all hate,” I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull, I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now.
Girls’ faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now.
A self-ordained professor’s tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
“Equality,” I spoke their word
As if a wedding vow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now.
In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not I’d become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now.
All Along the Watchtower
Bob Dylan
There must be some way out of here, said the joker to the thief,
There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, ploughmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth
No reason to get excited, the thief, he kindly spoke,
There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl
Arnold de Beauregard
Arnold told me today that
He suffers from an
Uncertainty principle
He has a character complementary
Property problem
Which cannot all be observed?
Nor measured simultaneously
He is a contradiction in terms
He’s kind of grumpy
And grumpy and kind
Both of these things together
Both at the same time
He is a bit of an enigma
A paradoxical leporidae
He says he is unique
He says he’s not a naughty bunny
But simply funny
With the emphasis on fun
He said there is a 100% chance
That he is an oxymoron
Arnold is a pretty clever bunny
I know because he told me
That today too
Bish April 15th 2021
The Fool on the Hill
The Beatles
Day after day, alone on a hill
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still
But nobody wants to know him
They can see that he’s just a fool
And he never gives an answer
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round
Well on the way, head in a cloud
The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud
But nobody ever hears him
Or the sound he appears to make
And he never seems to notice
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round
And nobody seems to like him
They can tell what he wants to do
And he never shows his feelings
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round
He never listens to them
He knows that they’re the fools
They don’t like him
The fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round
The song’s lyrics describe the titular “fool”, a solitary figure who is not understood by others, but is actually wise.
According to McCartney, the song possibly relates to a character such as Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the Beatles’ meditation teacher
“Fool on the Hill” was mine and I think I was writing about someone like Maharishi. His detractors called him a fool. Because of his giggle, he wasn’t taken too seriously. It was this idea of a fool on the hill, a guru in a cave.