<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6318114065032501753</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:07:22.878-07:00</updated><category term='Poetry'/><category term='love poems'/><category term='song lyrics'/><category term='lyricist'/><category term='love song'/><title type='text'>Hits in the Making</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stan C. Countz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14104456004230817655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A1SS_FDNUVQ/SpgItm3CuFI/AAAAAAAABLE/dF008zykNaE/S220/Stan_Duotone.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6318114065032501753.post-320056170548001071</id><published>2009-11-26T04:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T08:02:12.934-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='song lyrics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lyricist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love song'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>A LITTLE RESPECT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;© by Stan C. Countz Nov. 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days she’s makin’ the bacon&lt;br /&gt;But I’m still a man last time I checked&lt;br /&gt;My nerves are shot and my head is achin’&lt;br /&gt;Don’t know what that woman expects&lt;br /&gt;My patience and hair’s growin’ thinner&lt;br /&gt;I just wonder what’s happenin’ next&lt;br /&gt;Now when she comes home late for dinner&lt;br /&gt;We're famished and the house is a mess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;Don’t know what that woman wants&lt;br /&gt;To wear the pants or to wear the dress?&lt;br /&gt;I ain’t askin’ for that much&lt;br /&gt;And I'm tryin' to do my best&lt;br /&gt;To feel the warmth of her touch&lt;br /&gt;To feel her head on my chest&lt;br /&gt;But if I can’t get no love&lt;br /&gt;I’d settle for some respect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m confused ‘bout my role in the family&lt;br /&gt;I’m still supposed to provide and protect (but)&lt;br /&gt;Washin’ and foldin’ clothes just ain’t manly&lt;br /&gt;Don’t know what that woman expects&lt;br /&gt;I ain’t a cook and I ain’t a nanny&lt;br /&gt;Though I’m tryin’ my very best&lt;br /&gt;I’m used to takin’ names and kickin’ fanny&lt;br /&gt;But right now I could use a little rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(REPEAT CHORUS)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our kids are 'bout ready to leave us&lt;br /&gt;Pretty soon, we’ll have an empty nest&lt;br /&gt;Can’t let this challenge defeat us&lt;br /&gt;We can ride this out and pass this test&lt;br /&gt;But no one would ever believe us&lt;br /&gt;Who’d believe we’d be a success?&lt;br /&gt;Does she want to follow or lead us?&lt;br /&gt;I'm confused, I must confess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OUTRO&lt;br /&gt;Don’t know what that woman wants&lt;br /&gt;Don’t know what she expects&lt;br /&gt;I ain’t askin’ for that much&lt;br /&gt;Just some love and some respect&lt;br /&gt;Ain’t lookin’ for no free lunch&lt;br /&gt;Tired of sittin' on the bench&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz, in this economic crunch&lt;br /&gt;If I can’t get a little love&lt;br /&gt;I’d settle for a little sex&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6318114065032501753-320056170548001071?l=hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/feeds/320056170548001071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/2009/11/id-settle-for-sex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default/320056170548001071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default/320056170548001071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/2009/11/id-settle-for-sex.html' title='A LITTLE RESPECT'/><author><name>Stan C. Countz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14104456004230817655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A1SS_FDNUVQ/SpgItm3CuFI/AAAAAAAABLE/dF008zykNaE/S220/Stan_Duotone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6318114065032501753.post-2628115640617896963</id><published>2009-11-26T04:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T17:17:32.507-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='song lyrics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love song'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE’S MINE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;© by Stan C. Countz Nov. 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I love the way she looks at me &lt;br /&gt;When she thinks that I can’t see her &lt;br /&gt;She probably thinks that I don’t love &lt;br /&gt;And I don’t need her…but you know I do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s the reason why I can’t sleep at night&lt;br /&gt;The smoke in my pipe, the coat to my tie&lt;br /&gt;The cream to my pie, the dream in my mind&lt;br /&gt;And I find it hard to believe… she’s mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s got that look in her eye&lt;br /&gt;The one she thinks I can’t see&lt;br /&gt;She’s the grape to my vine&lt;br /&gt;And it’s hard to believe… &lt;br /&gt;She’s mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like fine wine, our love gets better with time&lt;br /&gt;She’s the sweet grape’ and I’m the rough vine&lt;br /&gt;The magic takes place when the two combine&lt;br /&gt;She makes me believe everything will be fine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone can see I’m a fortunate guy&lt;br /&gt;For the life of me I just don’t know why&lt;br /&gt;She loves me but I know that she does&lt;br /&gt;Sure we fight but we always make up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s got that look in her eye&lt;br /&gt;And she shows me the signs&lt;br /&gt;She’s the coke to my fries, the bee to my hive&lt;br /&gt;And she makes me happy to be alive &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s got that look in her eye&lt;br /&gt;That says she can’t be denied&lt;br /&gt;She’s the dream in my mind, makes me think I can fly&lt;br /&gt;And I still can’t believe that she’s mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz she’s the moon to my shine, the fruit to my vine &lt;br /&gt;And I find it hard to believe… she’s mine&lt;br /&gt;I’ve gotta pinch myself each and every night&lt;br /&gt;‘Cuz I still can’t believe… she’s mine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6318114065032501753-2628115640617896963?l=hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/feeds/2628115640617896963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-cant-believe-shes-mine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default/2628115640617896963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default/2628115640617896963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-cant-believe-shes-mine.html' title='I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE’S MINE'/><author><name>Stan C. Countz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14104456004230817655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A1SS_FDNUVQ/SpgItm3CuFI/AAAAAAAABLE/dF008zykNaE/S220/Stan_Duotone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6318114065032501753.post-8950719283737588274</id><published>2009-11-24T19:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T17:10:36.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFE'S A GIFT AND THERE'S NO RETURNS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Original lyrics by Stan C. Countz Nov. 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drivin' like a maniac on my way back&lt;br /&gt;From a high-priced gig&lt;br /&gt;Saw a bright red Cadillac&lt;br /&gt;With a bike rack on the back, hit a big rig&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pushin’ past eighty in my brand new Mercedes&lt;br /&gt;Had maybe twenty-five miles to go&lt;br /&gt;Before I’d see my baby&lt;br /&gt;In my own home town, so I slowed down&lt;br /&gt;And I’m glad I did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;‘Cuz life’s a gift; can’t take it for granted&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how many days I've been handed&lt;br /&gt;You'd think by now I might've finally learned&lt;br /&gt;That life’s a gift; there ain't no returns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had my radio dialed to my favorite station&lt;br /&gt;Smiled thinkin' bout my two-week vacation&lt;br /&gt;Tank was near empty, but I was almost home&lt;br /&gt;Chattin’ with my baby on my new iphone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a lot on my mind, missed that stop sign&lt;br /&gt;I hit the brake but it was too late&lt;br /&gt;Was it fate or was I plumb out of luck?&lt;br /&gt;Drove straight into an ol pick-up truck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dazed and surprised, I realized&lt;br /&gt;As my life flashed right&lt;br /&gt;Before my eyes (that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHORUS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened so fast, what could I do?&lt;br /&gt;I was stuck, pinned in by that truck&lt;br /&gt;And I could barely move&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind went back to a much simpler time&lt;br /&gt;Before things got out of whack and out of line&lt;br /&gt;If I’d had a lot less crap on my mind&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I’d have seen that stop sign&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I later learned&lt;br /&gt;The guy in the truck’s name was Vern&lt;br /&gt;He'd been tryin’ to make a right turn&lt;br /&gt;Now he’s on crutches with third-degree burns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me and mine, I finally realized&lt;br /&gt;When my life flashed right&lt;br /&gt;Before my eyes (that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life’s a gift; can’t take it for granted&lt;br /&gt;Who knows how many days we've been handed?&lt;br /&gt;To be candid, I hope by now we've learned&lt;br /&gt;That life’s a gift and there’s no returns&lt;br /&gt;When I forget, I think of good ‘ol Vern…&lt;br /&gt;Life's a gift and there ain't no returns&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6318114065032501753-8950719283737588274?l=hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/feeds/8950719283737588274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/2009/11/lifes-gift-and-theres-no-returns.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default/8950719283737588274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6318114065032501753/posts/default/8950719283737588274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsinthemaking.blogspot.com/2009/11/lifes-gift-and-theres-no-returns.html' title='LIFE&apos;S A GIFT AND THERE&apos;S NO RETURNS'/><author><name>Stan C. Countz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14104456004230817655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A1SS_FDNUVQ/SpgItm3CuFI/AAAAAAAABLE/dF008zykNaE/S220/Stan_Duotone.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
