Chorus girls. New as old, black and white film stamps in history. What was then scandalous is now virtuous and classy. Where has the chastity gone? Black replaces black and white…
my heart sings a song for you twenty four seven
the chorus is more than worthy of the angels in heaven
my heart sings a song for you twenty fours hours a day
and guess what…I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was only this singe song. It had it all. But suddenly I noticed somthing was missing. It used to be right there. Somwhere near the middle.. But it was just gone. replaced by some new garbage notes.
Chorus, the stands, light metal music stands, the bright spotlight beams off the shaft like a fine tuned laser, it meets my eyes as i try and hold a note. I make my own melody, I make my own harmony.
The girl screamed at the top of her lungs as the crowd looked on. It was what she thought to be the best note ever, but the others thought otherwise. Everyone was dead silent, just staring at the girl as she beamed down at them, waiting for her applause. She began to understand that they didn’t like her performance, and her hopes sank. With a final bow, she swiftly exited stage right..
It comes all of a sudden. A chorus of small but strong voices. Nu moves to the window, but I stay at the table, staring down into my coffee mug. They always do this. When something happens, something bad, the kids go down the street and sing together. It’s not a sound I like to hear.
They all stood in four lines, tallest in the back. Everything was fine until the music started. Verse one, verse two. Then the chorus. THE CHORUS SANG THE CHORUS!!! LOL =3
– Gabe D.
I loved chorus. Too bad they never liked me. I spent hours and hours of thinking of ways to try to get them to like me. I was just too awkward for them. But now? Now, I’m a model, and where are they? Oh, yeah. They’re struggling through some rut, trying to find a meaning in life. I mean, I am too.
What a shame, Sandra thought, to be a part of the chorus. She considered her talents far superior to most of the other girls’. Despite only having one leg.
I used to sing in a chorus — have, for all my life, since I was little.
There’s something about chorus which is unlike anything I have ever encountered in my life — a feeling of combined freedom which manifests itself in the most beautiful music.
It’s the knowledge that you have been chained together, yet when you sing, there’s something sent into the air which goes beyond any individual you are chained with. Like Rousseau’s general will, you have created a beauty beyond the perfection of us on our own.
To sing beautiful throughout the land. To let one’s voice be heard. To change the minds of many. Freedom. Let your chorus ring into the pool of the imagination. the end..
The University Chorus was really hard to get in. Maybe it was because it was already an elitist school and it was known for its chorus and its football teams and trophees. What an honour. So I will practice tomorrow and I will find another chorus. Fuck it.
I awoke to a chorus of sound. But it was dream sound, a ghost from yesterday’s events. Beautiful evensong. Cheering crowds. I peered out from the curtain, it was still dawn, a crepuscular light gently falling on the hills in the distance. Above, only cloud. I yawned and stretched. Time for a walk.
Angels. Whenever I think of a chorus I think of angels.
Or of children singing discordantly in a church on Easter morning, each in their spring-colored clothing, looking like plastic eggs themselves.
I never really liked Easter, though I recognize the significance of it to others.
Sometimes I don’t want to celebrate holidays when I get older. I don’t want to celebrate anything. I want to go somewhere, by myself, with no one else, hide inside a little apartment and write my whole mind out on paper until I die alone.
A fine day for a wedding, I hear wonderful tunes.
A prince and a princess forever together in happiness
A chorus before us
Happiness forever
Sounds of Bells Happiness and youth forever!!
I already wrote about this word didn’t I? How am I supposed to only write about one word a day! I can’t work under these conditions? Oh, one word, why must you be so painfully slow!! My life goes much faster than this. I’ll start my own website, I will. I’ll get a twitter account.
There was a chorus inside of her: a baseline of booming horror, tenors crying out in disgust, mournful altos, a couple helpless sopranos. She tried to close her eyes and pretend she hadn’t seen the two of them but they noticed her and pulled apart.
I sat in the farthest, darkest, highest corner of the bleachers. Today the chorus was singing about…something. I didn’t know what because I was smoking Ketamine. I was in a K-Hole and of course no one around me KNEW about it, but I was definitely fucked out of my skull.
chorus, hmmm singers, notes i rmember chorus people when i was in middle school. it was always the chorus people versus the band people. I was a band person. I guess people could call band people gay, too, but, of course since I was in band, i wasn’t gay, of course. Chorus people get to do cool choral things, though, like, at disney and such. I never did that with band. although i didnt stick with it long enough, either.
Oh heavenly chorus
Play your trombone
Play so I may see a dragonfly cross the broken bridge to reach you
Then cut the rope so he falls down in to the raging waters below
down
down
drown
The chorus sang like an angelic symphony of voice in the chapel of light. The higher the notes got the more ecstasy they felt as their notes combined and formed a heavenly harmonic.
All the music crashes around
you try to pick out that distinct sound
the one voice that you’re longing to hear
but somehow it evades your ears
you look around to see that face
but somehow a million others flood in his place
you listen again and finally hear
the voice of an angel upon your ears
You are my chorus.
You are my song.
You are the words
that I cannot pronounce.
You are the beat.
You are the melody.
You are the harmony
to this love I cannot renounce.
Repetition. You’re saying the same thing again and again but he’s not listening. Sandwich it between lies. Fill in the gaps with what he wants to hear. But repeat the thing he doesn’t. He might listen, he might.
It’s all about the repetition, if you say it often enough he might remember.
Like a catchy chorus, it won’t leave him. Hopefully.
There was a chorus of rambunctious singing from the mouths of the poor children. Their voices ranged from scratchy to smooth, but through the simingly unrecognizable noise, the chorus of beautiful angels could be heard; all the children praising the one who brought them Life, and Joyful Life.
A chorus: many people. singing, or cryiung out love and lies about the Lord or life. One body of many
Chorus girls. New as old, black and white film stamps in history. What was then scandalous is now virtuous and classy. Where has the chastity gone? Black replaces black and white…
my heart sings a song for you twenty four seven
the chorus is more than worthy of the angels in heaven
my heart sings a song for you twenty fours hours a day
and guess what…I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was only this singe song. It had it all. But suddenly I noticed somthing was missing. It used to be right there. Somwhere near the middle.. But it was just gone. replaced by some new garbage notes.
Chorus, the stands, light metal music stands, the bright spotlight beams off the shaft like a fine tuned laser, it meets my eyes as i try and hold a note. I make my own melody, I make my own harmony.
The girl screamed at the top of her lungs as the crowd looked on. It was what she thought to be the best note ever, but the others thought otherwise. Everyone was dead silent, just staring at the girl as she beamed down at them, waiting for her applause. She began to understand that they didn’t like her performance, and her hopes sank. With a final bow, she swiftly exited stage right..
The church, lit by a thousand tilting candles, rung with the bell like sound of the boys’ angelic voices.
The chorus in a song that’s like usually amazing and says the same thing over and over again
It comes all of a sudden. A chorus of small but strong voices. Nu moves to the window, but I stay at the table, staring down into my coffee mug. They always do this. When something happens, something bad, the kids go down the street and sing together. It’s not a sound I like to hear.
They all stood in four lines, tallest in the back. Everything was fine until the music started. Verse one, verse two. Then the chorus. THE CHORUS SANG THE CHORUS!!! LOL =3
– Gabe D.
I loved chorus. Too bad they never liked me. I spent hours and hours of thinking of ways to try to get them to like me. I was just too awkward for them. But now? Now, I’m a model, and where are they? Oh, yeah. They’re struggling through some rut, trying to find a meaning in life. I mean, I am too.
ohhh chorus sing our song
let her remember our love
i want her in my life
ur sound will help
bands
songs
music
What a shame, Sandra thought, to be a part of the chorus. She considered her talents far superior to most of the other girls’. Despite only having one leg.
join me in the chorus of love
and lets have a different taste in life
time is short, we are not close
come around joy will flow
I used to sing in a chorus — have, for all my life, since I was little.
There’s something about chorus which is unlike anything I have ever encountered in my life — a feeling of combined freedom which manifests itself in the most beautiful music.
It’s the knowledge that you have been chained together, yet when you sing, there’s something sent into the air which goes beyond any individual you are chained with. Like Rousseau’s general will, you have created a beauty beyond the perfection of us on our own.
A group of voices join together and sing with complete joy and bliss.
To sing beautiful throughout the land. To let one’s voice be heard. To change the minds of many. Freedom. Let your chorus ring into the pool of the imagination. the end..
The University Chorus was really hard to get in. Maybe it was because it was already an elitist school and it was known for its chorus and its football teams and trophees. What an honour. So I will practice tomorrow and I will find another chorus. Fuck it.
Sing songs, love music, live for the beat. Feel the chords deep within your heart. Choir is life.
singers in a group mens womens youth music producing church associated morman choir shouts of dismay risers director tours
I awoke to a chorus of sound. But it was dream sound, a ghost from yesterday’s events. Beautiful evensong. Cheering crowds. I peered out from the curtain, it was still dawn, a crepuscular light gently falling on the hills in the distance. Above, only cloud. I yawned and stretched. Time for a walk.
Angels. Whenever I think of a chorus I think of angels.
Or of children singing discordantly in a church on Easter morning, each in their spring-colored clothing, looking like plastic eggs themselves.
I never really liked Easter, though I recognize the significance of it to others.
Sometimes I don’t want to celebrate holidays when I get older. I don’t want to celebrate anything. I want to go somewhere, by myself, with no one else, hide inside a little apartment and write my whole mind out on paper until I die alone.
A fine day for a wedding, I hear wonderful tunes.
A prince and a princess forever together in happiness
A chorus before us
Happiness forever
Sounds of Bells Happiness and youth forever!!
I already wrote about this word didn’t I? How am I supposed to only write about one word a day! I can’t work under these conditions? Oh, one word, why must you be so painfully slow!! My life goes much faster than this. I’ll start my own website, I will. I’ll get a twitter account.
Halleluja!
There was a chorus inside of her: a baseline of booming horror, tenors crying out in disgust, mournful altos, a couple helpless sopranos. She tried to close her eyes and pretend she hadn’t seen the two of them but they noticed her and pulled apart.
A group of people that sing.
I sat in the farthest, darkest, highest corner of the bleachers. Today the chorus was singing about…something. I didn’t know what because I was smoking Ketamine. I was in a K-Hole and of course no one around me KNEW about it, but I was definitely fucked out of my skull.
people who are singing in one place without the right to choose what to sing or sing about but I guess I might be exaggerating
I always really know it’s spring when the nightly frog chorus begins.
chorus, hmmm singers, notes i rmember chorus people when i was in middle school. it was always the chorus people versus the band people. I was a band person. I guess people could call band people gay, too, but, of course since I was in band, i wasn’t gay, of course. Chorus people get to do cool choral things, though, like, at disney and such. I never did that with band. although i didnt stick with it long enough, either.
Jane and Remi chorused together “I love you” but they said it to two different people.
Oh heavenly chorus
Play your trombone
Play so I may see a dragonfly cross the broken bridge to reach you
Then cut the rope so he falls down in to the raging waters below
down
down
drown
The chorus sang like an angelic symphony of voice in the chapel of light. The higher the notes got the more ecstasy they felt as their notes combined and formed a heavenly harmonic.
All the music crashes around
you try to pick out that distinct sound
the one voice that you’re longing to hear
but somehow it evades your ears
you look around to see that face
but somehow a million others flood in his place
you listen again and finally hear
the voice of an angel upon your ears
I woke up and i wrote a song, i couldnt write a chorus because i knew if i could it would hurt too much to read, sing, and cry about.
You are my chorus.
You are my song.
You are the words
that I cannot pronounce.
You are the beat.
You are the melody.
You are the harmony
to this love I cannot renounce.
Repetition. You’re saying the same thing again and again but he’s not listening. Sandwich it between lies. Fill in the gaps with what he wants to hear. But repeat the thing he doesn’t. He might listen, he might.
It’s all about the repetition, if you say it often enough he might remember.
Like a catchy chorus, it won’t leave him. Hopefully.
There was a chorus of rambunctious singing from the mouths of the poor children. Their voices ranged from scratchy to smooth, but through the simingly unrecognizable noise, the chorus of beautiful angels could be heard; all the children praising the one who brought them Life, and Joyful Life.