International Bright Young Thing - Jesus Jones

When I try To tell you one thing You don't listen When I try To tell you one thing You don't care. I think we're Headed for a heartache That's my suspicion I think we're Headed for a heartache That's how I feel. And I don't want The silent treatment And I don't need To feel the chill. You know a body feels empty With no love inside Yeah, a body feels empty With no love at all. I think we're Headed for a heartache That's my suspicion I think we're Headed for a heartache That's how I feel. One of these days You're gonna wake up And I'll be gone You'll open your eyes And see the truth. When I try To tell you one thing You don't listen When I try To tell you one thing baby You don't care.

By Gerry Goffin, Carole King and Michael Nesmith I know that something very strange Is happening to my brain. I'm either feeling very good Or else I am insane. The seeds of doubt you planted Have started to grow wild And I feel that I must yield before The wisdom of a child And it's love you bring, No that I can't deny, With your wings, I can learn to fly, Sweet young thing. People try to talk to me Their words are ugly sounds But I resist all their attempts To try and bring me down. Turned on to the sunset, Like I've never been before. And I listen for your footsteps And your knock upon the door. And it's love you bring, No that I can't deny, With your wings, I can learn to fly, Sweet young thing. And it's love you bring, With dreams of bluer skies And then all these things, When I see it in your eyes Sweet young thing.

We'll be the worms in your apple pie Fake abuse for our bios, blacken our own eyes Grass isn't greener on the other side We'll set it on fire, and we have no reason why Set fashion, not follow Spit vitriol, not swallow Set fashion, not follow Spit vitriol, not swallow Good for nothing but being everything that's bad, bad, bad Good for nothing but being everything that's bad, bad, bad We know who we are and what we want to say And we don't care who's listening We don't rebel to sell, it just suits us well We're the bright young things I've got my villain necktie and a mouth of hi-fi So sharp, I'm bleeding from my Judas hole I'm the Arch Dandy no-goodnik and I'm headed for Crashville I'm most monster with my groan box in the "Meat Show" Set fashion, not follow Spit vitriol, not swallow Set fashion, not follow Spit vitriol, not swallow Good for nothing but being everything that's bad, bad, bad Good for nothing but being everything that's bad, bad, bad We know who we are and what we want to say And we don't care who's listening We don't rebel to sell, it just suits us well We're the bright young things Crashing the ether, we've got the loudest stereotype Even neophytes deep set your pro-life We don't need to move a single prayer bone We're so beautiful and damned, simply as a "still-life" Perpetual rebellion with absolutely no cause Perpetual rebellion with absolutely no cause Perpetual rebellion with absolutely no cause Perpetual rebellion with absolutely no cause Stop the song and remember what you used to be Somebody that could fucking impress me We know who we are and what we wanna say And we don't care who's listening We don't rebel to sell, it just suits us well We're the bright young things We know who we are and what we want to say And we don't care who's listening We don't rebel to sell, it just suits us well We're the bright young things Good for nothing but being everything that's bad, bad, bad Good for nothing but being everything that's bad

You can ride all day long Another Myke Diesel production (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone Chasing a man you can't see (Mike Jones) So just walk away and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) I'm back, my music tracks about to sell another mil' My pants stay saggin' from them hundred dollar bills These haters hate but they don't really wanna see the steel These haters hate but they don't really wanna see the steel Had a million in my bank before Asylum bought the deal Had a million in my bank before Asylum bought the deal Before I came I just say the streets wouldn't feel The - that I'm spittin', the - that's real But now I'm like Melo, I'm the king of the hill American dream, I'm livin' that for real Eleven cars later - tell me how you feel Took the diamonds off my teeth And put 'em on my Phantom grill (smile, ha ha) You can ride all day long (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone Chasing a man you can't see (Mike Jones) So just walk away and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) I used to get dissed by the chicks in the club Now they want to rub my belly, wanna show your boy some love They see me iced up, they be like, "What's up?" Try to jack me if you wanna, I'ma leave you - up Used to roll hatchback, now I'm Cadillac and Benz Used to roll hatchback, now I'm Cadillac and Benz I used to have homies, now I'm like, "- friends" 'Cause even back then all they did was pretend Now I got my own label Ice Age and I'm boss I'm the mayor of this town with the key to that vault All my cars black on black except the one with thick gloss Got another white on white I call that - rick Rick Ross (Ross) You can ride all day long (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone (hahahahahaha) Chasing a man you can't see (you can't see me, baby) So just walk away, and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) Hey Now make it rain Hey Now make it rain Hey Now make it rain American Dream, album and movie on the way, baby

(Rhythm is both the song's manacle and it's demonic charge. It is the original breath, it is the whisper of unremitting demand. "What do you still want of me?", says the singer. "What do you think you can still draw from my lips?" Exact presence that no fantasy can represent. Purveyor of the oldest secret, alive with the blood that boils again, and is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart. How your singer's blood is incensed at the depth of sound. Lacerations echo in the mouth's open erotic sky where dance together the lost frenzies of rhythm and an imploring immobility. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Grace Jones. Jones the Rhythm.) Slave! Slave to the rhythm Dance to the rhythm Axe to wood in ancient times Man machine, production line The fire burns, with heartbeats strong Sing out loud, the chain gang song Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up Slave to the rhythm Dance to the rhythm, The rhythm... master... master... Never stop the action, keep it up Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up. Slave to the rhythm, work to the rhythm, Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm. Slave to the rhythm, Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm, Slave to the rhythm, work... to the rhythm, To the rhythm, work to the rhythm, to the rhythm. Slave, slave, To the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the rhythm. (Grace) Oh that's weird... (Grace Jones, welcome) Thank you Paul. And if you're wondering what's wrong with my voice, I just choked on my saliva. So... (Now obviously you're in the Bond movie.)