Year 1957 (MCMLVII) was a common year starting on Tuesday (link will display the full calendar) of the Gregorian calendar.
Clinton "Clint" Eastwood, Jr. (born May 31, 1930) is an American film actor, director, producer, composer and politician. Eastwood first came to prominence as a supporting cast member in the TV series Rawhide (1959–1965). He rose to fame for playing the Man with No Name in Sergio Leone's Dollars trilogy of spaghetti westerns (A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly) during the late 1960s, and as Harry Callahan in the Dirty Harry films (Dirty Harry, Magnum Force, The Enforcer, Sudden Impact, and The Dead Pool) throughout the 1970s and 1980s. These roles, among others, have made him an enduring cultural icon of masculinity.
For his work in the films Unforgiven (1992) and Million Dollar Baby (2004), Eastwood won Academy Awards for Best Director and Producer of the Best Picture, as well as receiving nominations for Best Actor. These films in particular, as well as others including Play Misty for Me (1971), Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974), The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976), Escape from Alcatraz (1979), Tightrope (1984), Pale Rider (1985), Heartbreak Ridge (1986), In the Line of Fire (1993), The Bridges of Madison County (1995), and Gran Torino (2008), have all received commercial success and critical acclaim. Eastwood's only comedies have been Every Which Way but Loose (1978) and its sequel Any Which Way You Can (1980), which are his two most commercially successful films after adjustment for inflation.
Henry Jaynes Fonda (May 16, 1905 – August 12, 1982) was an American film and stage actor.
Fonda made his mark early as a Broadway actor. He also appeared in 1938 in plays performed in White Plains, New York, with Joan Tompkins. He made his Hollywood debut in 1935, and his career gained momentum after his Academy Award-nominated performance as Tom Joad in The Grapes of Wrath, a 1940 adaptation of John Steinbeck's novel about an Oklahoma family who moved west during the Dust Bowl. Throughout six decades in Hollywood, Fonda cultivated a strong, appealing screen image in such classics as The Ox-Bow Incident, Mister Roberts and 12 Angry Men. Later, Fonda moved both toward darker epics as Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West and lighter roles in family comedies like Yours, Mine and Ours with Lucille Ball.
Fonda was the patriarch of a family of famous actors, including daughter Jane Fonda, son Peter Fonda, granddaughter Bridget Fonda, and grandson Troy Garity. His family and close friends called him "Hank". In 1999, he was named the sixth-Greatest Male Star of All Time by the American Film Institute.
About 2 minutes past the river where the sinners spent their lonely nights,
there lied a dirt road waiting for us,
hidden were the broken street signs.
There were sweet smells in the air along with the stench of fuck, lies, and Marianne.
"Please take me home..."
Ever get that feeling that you should have kept your clothes on?
Ever get that feeling that they're calling you on?
And did you really think I thought of giving a fuck?
I left you as I met you in the back of my truck.
But I don't regret.
You were pulling on my pant leg.
Those drunken fucks were growing up to me.
Don't call me back.
About 2 minutes past the river where the sinners spent their lonely nights, there lied a dirt road waiting for us, hidden were the broken street signs. There were sweet smells in the air along with the stench of fuck, lies, and Marianne. "Please take me home..." Ever get that feeling that you should have kept your clothes on? Ever get that feeling that they're calling you on? And did you really think I thought of giving a fuck? I left you as I met you in the back of my truck. But I don't regret. You were pulling on my pant leg. Those drunken fucks were growing up to me. Don't call me back. Don't throw up on me. .
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed.
Devoid of conviction, conflicted, annoyed.
Kicked at and worn down. 6 6 6.
Beat. Looking for the next quick fix.
Unpopular prophets with problems
Up against angels in disguise who want to rob them;
Who didnt want to end up crushed by gods embrace
In the age of the cold wind blowing and dogs in space;
Whos faces are fading. Theyre the loneliest drunk.
In empty rooms haunted by Thelonious Monk.
Felonious punks and plate glass squares
That see empty eyes that look straight past theirs.
Street walking cheetahs with a gun in each hand
Who are lost at sea and are desperate to reach land.
Orpheus descending. Swimming in the crooked waters.
Hello Sid Vicious, goodbye Brooklyn Dodgers...
No joke. Hit the low note.
We all go to heaven in a little row boat.
1957 Chevy Bel Air. Interior velvet especially.
Bloody probably. Stereo: Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley.
Black Flame Trilogy. Quadruple louder bass.
Battle sites. Little Rock. Satellites in outer space
Words wont help but a few bucks can.
Crew cuts and black leather. Ku Klux Klan.
Men wear hats. In fact, harems are shared.
Opiates addicted to and parents scared.
The underground is real. Delivered greens to river queens.
Perpetual motion of free-thinkers and libertines.
Who suffer alone all night with pains
Hooked on drums and who fight with chains.
Its Faulkner and Baldwin. Insult and curse reality.
Spy vs. spy and the cult of personality.
What can the numbers and the words in my head mean?
Killroy was here and so was Buster Crab and Ed Gein.
No joke. Hit the low note.
We all go to heaven in a little row boat.
The pen keeps moving in attempt to sink the jingoes.
Fight em with hula hoops, frisbees and pink flamingoes.
Up running all night. Late sleep ordered.
Have gun will travel. Great leap forward.
Man on the corner with dark glasses free and preaching.
Appetite is monstrous. Diet is Dionysian.
All over the world, so much peril in one show.
Playwright Arthur Miller marries Marilyn Monroe.
Hard rain falling. Babies sleeping in Gods palms.
Alarm clocks ringing. Warrior monks and bomb squads.
Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. Clairvoyants and mediums.
Believers in nothing. Speed freaks and bohemians.
Red is the new black. Identity files.
Rebels and grand dragons. Obscenity trials.
Lolita and Bobby Fisher country. No part is red,
Just black and white. Humphrey Bogart is dead.
No joke. Hit the low note.
Your house that sits behind me
Is covered in ivy green
The windows that we watch from
Are old and chipping at the beam
It takes me away
Takes me away
Takes me away
The scent you wear moves in lines
From your apartment into mine
You act like you don't know me
My god, you tempt my anxious mind
It takes me away
Takes me away
Takes me away
Would it be much better if I knew nothing about you
Would it be much better if I knew nothing about you
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
I'll go, I'll go, I'll go I...
It takes me away
Takes me away
[Slug]
Hence forth, step within my psychoanalysis
callouses upon my mind make me strain for my lines
out I ripped it, squeeeeezed the brain: it made some liquid
drained it in a cup and then I sipped it
Atmosphere! The mic let me clutch it
thoughts take flight so fit the Slug in your pipe and take a puff kid
fuck it! I heat it like a tea pot - steam hot
upon the roof: shoot a marble with the verbal slingshot
take aim, here I came, I'm the same
Back in '86, I'da tag my name upon your window pane
stained the mind: a deep shade of residue
voices within the head make choices multiple
multiply Spawn, Slug a little buzz
and Atmosphere the scuds, cuz here come the judge
blasted; so past the kid a mic so we can paint this
image of the gifted-anxious, to flip the language
it's the noun meltdown from the outer-shell
now smell the burning flesh fresh from the hell-bound
and come on down here, this mind path, I'm half-
mathematic Atmospheric staff with the rhyme craft
comin to capture, your after-laughter
while I'm hangin from this rafter, I have to rip this rapture
cuz the cramps in my stomach, dismantle
when I tamper wit your amplify, you damn-you die...
Why try?
The sky presents an eternally unfolding spectacle:
One moment puffs of cumulous clouds get across it
and next a billowing thunderhead
perhaps 10 miles high looms over the horizon
probing the structure of the sky...
Why try?
[Slug]
Cause I can read an emcee from front to back
from the cover to the classified - I've pacified
my mind with my rhyme skills - I climb hills
and leap, foolish twitch with a single bound
sending tingles down your spine, designed to swing a pound
this ax_handle_tripled inch_spike_protruding
from the tip of my mic distrubuting fuckin headshots
shots to your head, now your're knee-deep, you need sleep
as you trutch thru the sludge and the slugs and the bird shit
we swarm with the bees and diseases
and even if your deejay was Jesus, you could never fuck with these kids
I've swarmed with the bees and diseases
and even if your deejay was Jesus, you could never fuck with these kids
[Spawn]
Yea muthafucka! you know who you fuckin with
you know what kind ass whooping comes with this
your whole crew could get some of this,
your wack ass fuck kids is what the subject is
roughnecks live, for only a second
then they give oblivion's, what you've stepped in
your reps token, should have been lookin
I'm sick of you bitch-ass crews when:
you tried take what's not your but 'cha couldn't
take mine, your fake rhymes - spit them you shouldn't
what will it be now? another victory
ayo who will it be now? it's Spawn that emcee
complete, a true champ - stamped that on my essence
amped shootin presence, fattenin each fuckin sentence
when its time, then it's time to go
that's what I know, be rippin mics at every show we flow
but who's got my back though?
[Slug]
Stress, Beyond, ANT, the Slug
[Spawn]