Word: lusted
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...janitor, florist and McDonald's cashier before scoring as Kanye West's Jesus Walks co-writer, and his debut brings a touch of working-class humility to a genre desperate for it. On Brand New, Rhymefest and West trade verses, with West rapping about his consumer lust while 'fest advises, "Skip the brand name/ I won't brand you," and he admits that West, who produced, "hook[s] me up as long as I don't ask him for too much." These Days interrupts two verses about the monotony of everyday life with one about the competition: "I kinda like...
...says.In the evenings during her college days, this economics concentrator doubled as a party planner. She loved to throw costume parties, says Elizabeth D. Sherwood-Randall ’81, her former roommate in Eliot House and close friend.“Penny has a such a tremendous lust for life, coupled with this stamina,” she says.“She had many suitors,” she recalls.Pritzker moved on to earn her JD and MBA at Standard University, where she trained for and ran the Ironman triathlon.Martignetti, who is in charge of the Class...
...crime-and-vice monopoly. "Bloodletting on my premises-- that I ain't approved--I take as a f__ing affront," he says. HBO seems ready, foolishly, to let Season 3 be the western's last. It's worth hopping on this poetic, profane story of frontier money lust before it rides into the sunset...
...Straight Path; they are unclean. Ahmad and the two thousand other students can see them scuttling after school into their cars on the crackling, trash-speckled parking lot like pale crabs or dark ones restored to their shells, and they are men and women like any others, full of lust and fear and infatuation with things that can be bought. Infidels, they think safety lies in accumulation of the things of this world, and in the corrupting diversions of the television set. They are slaves to images, false ones of happiness and affluence. But even true images are sinful imitations...
...whole album. It is sparely orchestrated, with a slight mischievous twinkle that distinguishes the piece from the synth-pop to which Morrissey occasionally threatens to descend and allows the listener to concentrate on the words and delivery. The lyrics are vintage Morrissey, telling a tale of failed, confused lust; there are “explosive kegs/ between my legs” which soon leads to “I’m spreading your legs/With mine in-between.” The difference is that the confused lust succeeds this time. And then? “The heart feels free...