Alanis Morisette: Ironic

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
And who would've thought, it figures

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
And who would've thought, it figures

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up in your face

A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
A little too ironic... yeah, I really do think...

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
And who would've thought, it figures

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out

Brad Paisley: Whiskey Lullaby

She put him out, like the burning end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart, he spent his whole life trying to forget
We watched him drink his pain away, a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind, until the night

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory.
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
than the strength he had to get up off his knees.
We found him with his face down in the pillow,
With a note that said I love her till I die.
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby...


The rumours flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away, a little at a time,
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind until the night

She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory.
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
than the strength she had to get up off her knees.
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life.
We layed her next to him beneath the willow
while the angels sang a whiskey lullaby....

Yann Tiersen: Les Jours Tristes

It's hard, hard not to sit on your hands
And bury your head in the sand
Hard not to make other plans
and claim that you've done all you can all along
And life must go on

It's hard, hard to stand up for what's right
And bring home the bacon each night
Hard not to break down and cry
When every idea that you've tried has been wrong
But you must carry on

It's hard but you know it's worth the fight
'Cause you know you've got the truth on your side
When the accusations fly, hold tight
Don't be afraid of what they'll say
Who cares what cowards think, anyway
They will understand one day, one day

It's hard, hard when you're here all alone
And everyone else has gone home
Harder to know right from wrong
When all objectivity's gone, and it's gone
But you still carry on

'Cause you, you are the only one left
And you've got to clean up this mess
You know you'll end up like the rest
Bitter and twisted, unless
You stay strong and you carry on

It's hard but you know it's worth the fight
'cause you know you've got the truth on your side
When the accusations fly, hold tight
And don't be afraid of what they'll say
Who cares what cowards think anyway?
They will understand one day, one day.

Nizlopi: JCB song

Well, I'm rumblin' in this JCB.
I'm 5 years old and my dad's giant sitting beside me.
And the engine rattles my bum like berserk
While we're singin, "Don't forget your shovel if you want to go to work!"

My dad's totally had a bloody hard day
But he's been good fun and bubblin and jokin' away
And the procession of cars stuck behind
are gettin all impatient and angry, but we dont mind.

An' we're holdin up the bypass, oh
Me and my dad havin a top laugh, oh woah
Sittin on the toolbox, oh
And I'm so glad I'm not in school, boss
So glad I'm not in school

Oh no...

And we pull over to let the cars pass
And pull off again, speedin by the summer green grass
And we're like giants up here in our big yellow digger
Like zoids, or transformers, or maybe even bigger

And I wanna transform into a Tyrannosaurus Rex!
And eat up all the bullies and the teachers and their pets
And I'll tell all my mates my dad's B.A. Baracus
Only with a JCB and Bruce Lee's nunchuckas

And We're holdin up the bypass, oh
Me and my dad havin a top laugh, oh woah
Sittin on the toolbox, oh
And I'm so glad I'm not in school, boss
So glad I'm not in school

And we're holdin up the bypass, oh oh
Me and my dad havin a top laugh, oh woah
I'm sittin on the toolbox, oh oh
And I'm so glad I'm not in school, boss,
So glad I'm not in school

Said I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his JCB.
I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his JCB.
I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his JCB.
I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round

And we're holdin' up the bypass, woah
Me and my dad havin a top laugh, oh woah
And I'm sittin on the toolbox, oh
And I'm so glad I'm not in school, boss,
So glad I'm not in school

I said I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his JCB.
I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his
I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his JCB.
I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee. Drives me round in his JCB.

The Beautiful South: Rotterdam

And the women tug their hair
Like they're trying to prove it won't fall out
And all the men are gargoyles
Dipped long in Irish stout

The whole place is pickled
The people are pickles for sure
And no-one knows if they've done more here
Than they ever would do in a jar

This could be Rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or Rome
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone
Anywhere alone

And everyone is blonde
And everyone is beautiful
and when blondes and beautiful are multiple
they become so dull and dutiful

And when faced with dull and dutiful
They fire red warning flares
Battle-Khaki personality
With red underwear

This could be Rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or Rome
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone
Anywhere alone

The whole place is pickled
The people are pickles for sure
And no-one knows if they've done more here
Than they ever would do in a jar

This could be Rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or Rome
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone

This could be Rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or Rome
'Cause Rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone