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To: Rainy_Day_Woman who wrote (10722)	2/25/2004 5:32:40 AM
From: Raymond Duray	Respond to of 13018

Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Into this house we're born Into this world we're thrown Like a dog without a bone An actor out alone Riders on the storm There's a killer on the road His brain is squirmin' like a toad Take a long holiday Let your children play If ya give this man a ride Sweet memory will die Killer on the road, yeah Girl ya gotta love your man Girl ya gotta love your man Take him by the hand Make him understand The world on you depends Our life will never end Gotta love your man, yeah Wow! Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Into this house we're born Into this world we're thrown Like a dog without a bone An actor out alone Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm * God God, can you believe that the drunken fool who wrote these sappy lyrics was a cultural idol who had movies made about him? We must be nuts. *** Riders on The Storm Vital Land, home of the proud, motel room of the brave.... Vital land, home of home of the indigent and the afraid.... Vital land, we are riders on the storm, we are witnesses to history, without a study guide. Vital land, riders on the storm. We read of cataclysms uncomprehended, Gulf Streams collapsed and yet no clue of consequence. Riders on the Storm. Re-insurance rages, under strict censure, so the general public has no clue. Riders on the Storm. Defense Futurists rage, bringing on the brigades... Yet the general public has no clue. Riders on the Storm. Malthus was wrong, Malted Barley rules on. Rachel Carson was wrong. Raptors rule on. Paul Erlich was wrong. Trade rules on.... Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Riders on the storm But which one? The one that destroys the Hague? The one that destroys London? The one that destroys Bangladesh? The one that destroys N'Orleans? Riders on the storm. To this place, we belong, let us sing this song, this place we call our home, is thinner that a thong. How can we get along, disregarding life through a bong.... guardian.co.uk