https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKhKBNS1fPc
All we want is a head-rush
All we want is to get out of our skin for a while
We have nothing to lose because we don't have anything
Anything we want anyway...
We used to hate people
Now we just make fun of them
It's more effective that way
We don't live
We just scratch on, day to day
With nothing but matchbooks and sarcasm in our pockets
And all we are waiting for is for something worth waiting for
Let's admit America gets the celebrities we deserve
Let's stop saying, "Don't quote me" because if no one quotes you
You probably haven't said a thing worth saying
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside
We all just want to die a little bit
We fear that pop-culture is the only kind
Of culture we're ever going to have
We want to stop reading magazines
Stop watching TV
Stop caring about Hollywood
But we're addicted to the things we hate
We don't run Washington and no one really does
Ask not what you can do for your country
Ask what your country did to you
The only reason you're still alive is because someone has decided to let you live
So what do you want?
You want to be famous and rich and happy
But you're terrified you have nothing to offer this world
Nothing to say and no way to say it
But you can say it in three languages
You are more than the sum of what you consume
Desire is not an occupation
You are alternately thrilled and desperate
Sky high and fucked
Let's stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves
Let's stop this and start over
Let's go out
Let's keep going
All we want is a head-rush
All we want is to get out of our skin for a while
We have nothing to lose because we don't have anything
Anything we want anyway...
We used to hate people
Now we just make fun of them
It's more effective that way
We don't live
We just scratch on, day to day
With nothing but matchbooks and sarcasm in our pockets
And all we are waiting for is for something worth waiting for
Let's admit America gets the celebrities we deserve
Let's stop saying, "Don't quote me" because if no one quotes you
You probably haven't said a thing worth saying
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside
We all just want to die a little bit
We fear that pop-culture is the only kind
Of culture we're ever going to have
We want to stop reading magazines
Stop watching TV
Stop caring about Hollywood
But we're addicted to the things we hate
We don't run Washington and no one really does
Ask not what you can do for your country
Ask what your country did to you
The only reason you're still alive is because someone has decided to let you live
So what do you want?
You want to be famous and rich and happy
But you're terrified you have nothing to offer this world
Nothing to say and no way to say it
But you can say it in three languages
You are more than the sum of what you consume
Desire is not an occupation
You are alternately thrilled and desperate
Sky high and fucked
Let's stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves
Let's stop this and start over
Let's go out
Let's keep going
YouTube
KMFDM - Dogma
Lyrics:
"All we want is a headrush
All we want is to get out of our skin for a while
We have nothing to lose because we don't have anything
Anything we want anyway...
We used to hate people
Now we just make fun of them
It's more effective that way…
"All we want is a headrush
All we want is to get out of our skin for a while
We have nothing to lose because we don't have anything
Anything we want anyway...
We used to hate people
Now we just make fun of them
It's more effective that way…
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum, bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message, he Is dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum, bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message, he Is dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W. H. Auden
Taxi Driver was released on 8 Feb. 1976.
Writer Paul Schrader stated his influences and inspiration for the film:
“Before I sat down to write Taxi Driver, I reread Sartre’s Nausea, because I saw the noscript as an attempt to take the European existential hero, that is, the man from The Stranger [Camus], Notes from the Underground [Dostoevsky], Nausea, Pickpocket [Bresson], Le Feu Follet [Malle], and A Man Escaped [Bresson], and put him in an American context. In so doing, you find that he becomes more ignorant, ignorant of the nature of his problem.
Writer Paul Schrader stated his influences and inspiration for the film:
“Before I sat down to write Taxi Driver, I reread Sartre’s Nausea, because I saw the noscript as an attempt to take the European existential hero, that is, the man from The Stranger [Camus], Notes from the Underground [Dostoevsky], Nausea, Pickpocket [Bresson], Le Feu Follet [Malle], and A Man Escaped [Bresson], and put him in an American context. In so doing, you find that he becomes more ignorant, ignorant of the nature of his problem.
I wander among rosy shadows like a homeless god. The tears fall where I walk, the tears of one as hard as stone.
Edith Södergran, from The Instrument’s Lament
Edith Södergran, from The Instrument’s Lament