Le Miz, Weird Dreams, and Lefties
I've been getting back into Le Miz (the musical Les Misérables), and I'm so bummed that I still haven't seen it. I just found the lyrics to one of the opening songs, "At the End of the Day," and I almost cried. That's not saying much, of course, since I'll cry if you tell me that your hamster died today, or you stepped on a snail, but it affects me, and that's what's important.
I find it funny that the story of the French Revolution is readily accepted as a story of the poor rising up against oppressors, but there are poor people in this world, even in industrialised nations, that are considered "lazy" and "whiny." Yet these lyrics apply to them just as accurately as they applied to the peasants in 1800s France.
At the end of the day you're another day older,
and that's all you can say for the life of the poor.
It's a struggle, it's a war, and there's nothing that anyone's giving
one more day standing about, what is it for?
One day less to be living.
At the end of the day, you're another day colder,
and the shirt on your back doesn't keep out the chill.
And the righteous hurry past, they don't hear the little ones crying,
and the winter is coming on fast, ready to kill.
One day nearer to dying.
and if they ever began a revolution, they would be viewed as "terrorists." It's all about perspective, I dare say. Indeed.
At the end of the day, there's another day dawning,
and the sun in the morning is waiting to rise.
Like the waves crashing the sand,
like a storm that will break any second,
there's a hunger in the land.
There's a reckoning still to be reckoned,
and there's gonna be hell to pay, at the end of the day!
Damn straight, there's gonna be hell to pay! Sing it!
Oh, I had a dream a couple weeks ago that I wanted to become a Rastafarian. That’s right, not a PASTAfarian, a RASTAfarian. I’m beginning to gain more respect for my subconscious. And then, there was this one time in my Sustainable Production and Consumption Systems class where I fell asleep and had a dream that my friend Tracey and I went to the zoo. We saw some penguins, and in my dream, I yelled really loud, for no apparent reason, “I LIKE PENGUINS!!!” And then I woke up and looked around, embarrassed, to see if I had really said it out loud. But alas, such excitement wasn’t meant to be. Everyone was still sitting at their desks, looking as bored as school kids on a rainy day. I just made that simile up. Not sure if it makes any sense.
I want me a guy, a lefty guy. Uber-political lefty guys are swoon-worthy. *siiiigghhh* Sometimes I crack myself up.
I would love to get together with all my pinko-commie, radical lefty, tree-hugging, dominant-paradigm-hating friends and schmooze. And maybe talk about penguins and Le Miz.
My cat is squeaking in her sleep. Sooooooo cute.
I find it funny that the story of the French Revolution is readily accepted as a story of the poor rising up against oppressors, but there are poor people in this world, even in industrialised nations, that are considered "lazy" and "whiny." Yet these lyrics apply to them just as accurately as they applied to the peasants in 1800s France.
At the end of the day you're another day older,
and that's all you can say for the life of the poor.
It's a struggle, it's a war, and there's nothing that anyone's giving
one more day standing about, what is it for?
One day less to be living.
At the end of the day, you're another day colder,
and the shirt on your back doesn't keep out the chill.
And the righteous hurry past, they don't hear the little ones crying,
and the winter is coming on fast, ready to kill.
One day nearer to dying.
and if they ever began a revolution, they would be viewed as "terrorists." It's all about perspective, I dare say. Indeed.
At the end of the day, there's another day dawning,
and the sun in the morning is waiting to rise.
Like the waves crashing the sand,
like a storm that will break any second,
there's a hunger in the land.
There's a reckoning still to be reckoned,
and there's gonna be hell to pay, at the end of the day!
Damn straight, there's gonna be hell to pay! Sing it!
Oh, I had a dream a couple weeks ago that I wanted to become a Rastafarian. That’s right, not a PASTAfarian, a RASTAfarian. I’m beginning to gain more respect for my subconscious. And then, there was this one time in my Sustainable Production and Consumption Systems class where I fell asleep and had a dream that my friend Tracey and I went to the zoo. We saw some penguins, and in my dream, I yelled really loud, for no apparent reason, “I LIKE PENGUINS!!!” And then I woke up and looked around, embarrassed, to see if I had really said it out loud. But alas, such excitement wasn’t meant to be. Everyone was still sitting at their desks, looking as bored as school kids on a rainy day. I just made that simile up. Not sure if it makes any sense.
I want me a guy, a lefty guy. Uber-political lefty guys are swoon-worthy. *siiiigghhh* Sometimes I crack myself up.
I would love to get together with all my pinko-commie, radical lefty, tree-hugging, dominant-paradigm-hating friends and schmooze. And maybe talk about penguins and Le Miz.
My cat is squeaking in her sleep. Sooooooo cute.