The Lyrics Thread

Quote:

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Let me help you to pick up your dead
As the sins of the fathers are fed
With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise
And from the pan under your bed
Let me make you a present of song
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
And the nursery rhyme winds along

---

Gerald Bostock (Ian Anderson)
Jethro Tull - Thick as a Brick

"Worship!" - cried the clown. "I'm a T.V.
Making bandsmen go clockwork,
See the slinky seal Cirkus policeman,
Bareback ladies have fish."
Strongmen by his feet, plate-spinning statesman,
Accrobatically juggling -
Bids his tamers go quiet the tumblers
Lest the mirror stop turning ...

You got the new Lizard, or is it just a warm-up ? ;)

Not got it yet...Just an early Crimson nut couldnt help it.

;)

btw the 40th anny edition is not out till 26th this month, you can pre order

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Andre

btw the 40th anny edition is not out till 26th this month, you can pre order

---

Yep, I will certainly do so. :)

'Lizard' is the only King Crimson I own. Original Island vinyl copy (in less-than-mint condition though)

Don't worry, an early CD issue is superb...




I try to believe what I feel these days
It makes life much easier for me
It's hard to decide what is real these days
When things look so dizzy to me

I already know my children's children's faces
Voices that I've heard before
There's always more
There's always more

Wandering leaving the sea behind
To my home which everybody owns
Wandering, wandering
Where we can do what we please
Wandering

I feel like a thousand years have passed
I'm younger than I used to be
I feel like the world is my home at last
I know everyone that I meet

Somewhere in the music I can hear the bells
I heard a thousand years before
There's always more
There's always more

Wandering is this there all there is
Since I was since I began to be
Wandering, wandering
Where we can do what we please
Wandering

Should this be on the lyrics thread or the quirky songs thread?
I dunno, probably both...........

'The Mooney Suzuki' - Good 'ol Alcohol'

I remember back in high school getting’ high was tons of fun
Its much easier to score some weed than to drink before you’re 21
At that age I thought alcohol was square, drinking just something old folks do
Course if we got our hands on some, well hell, we’ll drink like old folks too
Its different now when you get older and you’re getting on in your years
I’ve become so much more civilized since moving on to spirits and beers
So today if I wanna act an ass and gag, puke, stagger, and fall
I’m gonna do it in the trusted hands…of good old alcohol
That good ol alcohol
One more before last call
Can make you feel a mile high
If you’ve been feeling small
Yes, every now and then
I call upon my friend
That good ol, good ol, good old alcohol!
When I was younger my thing was hippy drugs
Like hashish, caps, and lids
Had a dug-out with zoso written on
Where I kept my one hitter hid
Amphetamine just wasn’t my speed
And cocaine will make you go broke
But man oh man, I sure could go for that marijuana smoke
I’d use a bong, or bowl, or rollin’ papers, or any other smoke components
Then I’d rip right through two boxes of Little Miss’ coffee cake covered donuts
And if you found your self stranded with no paraphanalia at all
You could always poke some holes through empty cans of alcohol
That good ol alcohol finds you in the bathroom stall
With your face inside the toilet, curled up in a little ball
Yeah once you’ve done my friend, you’ll come runnin’ back again
For some good ol, good ol, good old alcohol!
The mescaline you scored at cheap’s meadow looked like little candy nerds
That shit’ll make you crap your pants and backwards speak your words
Ate an 1/8th of psychedellic mushroom at my buddy’s girlfriends place
Listened to ‘Lectric Lady land three times over again with a strobe light in my face
Then there was LSD; some double dipped and some were window paine
Some bart simpson, some blue unicorn, and…uh, some of them just plain.
12 hours later trying to get high on shakes, seeds, and stems will do fuck-all
Only way to ease that come-down is with some good ol alcohol
That good ol alcohol, when the doctor needs a call
He may offer you some perkaset or even demoral
Yet when you’re high and dry, nothing else will get you by
Like some good ol, good ol, good old alcohol!
There will come one morning after when you will wake up and you will say
Goddamn I’m getting’ too old for this…what time is it and what day?
Where are all my Goddamn clothes and where’s my wallet, shoes, and keys
Where goddamn hell am I and goddamn it hurts when I try to pee
Now my liver’s limp, synapses spent, and my nerve endings are fried
Got through many a trying night, the kind where stronger men have died
But I’ve seen it, smelled it, ate it, tasted it,
Slid it, hit it, chased it, wasted it, puffed it, huffed it
Dosed it, toast it, Rolled it n sold it n tin foil bowled it
I’ve smoked poked, copped, popped
Mixed, fixed, chopped, dropped
Licked, kicked, toked n choked…weaked ‘n’ peeked & woke n boke
I’ve scored it and hoarded it…I’ve snorted it and sorted it
I’ve Slipped it, lipped it, sipped it and roach clipped it
I’ve cleaned it and fiended it, I’ve laced it and tasted it
I’ve dipped it and chewed it, Zig zag and bambooed it
I’ve cold turkey and restarted it
I’ve discarded and bogarted it
I’ve taken it and I’ve shaken it
I’ve stirred it and I’ve slurred and blurred it all…
And there ain’t a goddamn thing I trust as much…as good old alcohol!
That good ol alcohol…one more before last call
Can make you feel a mile high if you’ve been feeling small
Yes every now and then I’ll call upon my friend
That good ol good ol good ol alcohol
That good ol good ol good ol alcohol
That good ol good ol good ol alcohol
…smoke ‘em if you got ‘em!

Gordon Bennett guv............... :scratch:

As I was motivatin'
Back in town
I saw a Cadillac sign
Sayin' "No Money Down"
So I eased on my brakes
And I pulled in the drive
Gunned my motor twice
Then I walked inside
Dealer came to me
Said "Trade in your Ford
And I'll put you in a car
That'll eat up the road
Just tell me what you want
And then sign on that line
And I'll have it brought down to you
In a hour's time"

I'm gonna get me a car
And I'll be headed on down the road
Then I won't have to worry
About that broken - down, raggedy Ford

"Well Mister I want a yellow convertible
Four - door de Ville
With a Continental spare
And a wide chrome wheel
I want power steering
And power brakes
I want a powerful motor
With a jet off - take
I want air condition
I want automatic heat
And I want a full Murphy bed
In my back seat
I want short - wave radio
I want TV and a phone
You know I gotta talk to my baby
When I'm ridin' alone"

Yes I'm gonna get that car
And I'm gonna head on down the road
Yeah, then I won't have to worry
About that broken - down, raggedy Ford

"I want four carburetors
And two straight exhausts
I'm burnin' aviation fuel
No matter what the cost
I want railroad air horns
And a military spark
And I want a five - year guarantee
On everything I got
I want ten - dollar deductible
I want twenty dollar notes
I want thirty thousand liability"
That's all she wrote

I got me a car
And I'm headed on down the road
No money down
I don't have to worry
About that broken - down, raggedy Ford

'No Money Down' Chuck Berry

Quote:

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Originally Posted by The Grand Wazoo

---

I foirst thought it was the two vocalists of Can, but obviously it's only the name of the band...

The Perfumes Of Arabia
by Maggie Holland, as performed by Martin Carthy.

A modern lyric in a style completely consistent with Carthy's traditionally found music. The main conceit is of course stolen from Macbeth.

Quote:

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I was driving on a journey when I turned my radio on
Thinking to hear a story or some old familiar song
But all I heard were voices telling me a foreign war
They were counting Scuds and Patriots, they were telling me the score

...

I couldn't bear to hear it so I turned the volume down
Turned into a garage in some little Hampshire town
Filled up my car as I took the air of this green and pleasant land
And then I recognised the smell of blood upon my hand

I've tried sandalwood and roses, I've tried eau de cologne as well
Calvin Klein, Chanel number 5, it cannot ease the smell
I've tried in every Body Shop I can find throughout the land
But the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

---

Good one Joe, used to love this as a spotty teenager (snigger)

I remember the girl next door
We used to play house on the kitchen floor
I'd be king, she'd be queen
Together we'd play with our ding a ling a ling

My ding a ling, Oh my ding a ling
I wanna play with my ding a ling

Sugar Baby
Dock Boggs

http://www.ibiblio.org/jimmy/folkden-wp/?p=7090

Quote:

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Oh I’ve got no sugar baby now
All I can do is to seek peace with you
And I can’t get along this a-way
Can’t get along this a-way

All I can do, I’ve said all I can say
I’ll send it to your mama next payday
Send you to your mama next payday.

...

Laid her in the shade, give her every dime I made
What more could a poor boy do
What more could a poor boy do?

Oh I’ve got no honey baby now
Got no sugar baby now

Said all I can say, I’ve done all I can do
And I can’t make a living with you
Can’t make a living with you

---

Another home falls by the wayside
A few old cushions stuffed with pride
A hand is shaking from the rubble
This is spirit is still alive
A servant bares his occupation
Breaks his back just growing old
Never mind his views were taken
Just saw by the rules of old
Less cities more moving people
Rushing out with pride
Less cities more moving people

Hands that once were tied
A church bell rang for the occasion
The average man learns what's in store
Now he sees where his life was taken
Fighting heat, but growing old
Less cities more moving people
Rushing out with pride
Less cities more moving people
Hands that once were tied
Is this what we call education
Just watch the wheel of time revolve
But why is this not what I'm thinking
Just one mind and the unknown!
Less cities more moving people
Rushing out with pride
Cities are moving people
Who just forgot their lives

The wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams.
Upon the instruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
As silence drowns the screams.

Between the iron gates of fate,
The seeds of time were sown,
And watered by the deeds of those
Who know and who are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend
When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.

Confusion will be my epitaph.
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back
And laugh.
But I fear tomorrow Ill be crying,
Yes I fear tomorrow Ill be crying.

'Hot Rod Lincoln'

My pappy said "Son your gonna drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop drivin' that Hot Rod Lincoln"

Have you heard the story of the hot rod race
Where the Fords and Lincolns were settin' the pace?
That story is true I'm here to say
I was drivin' that model A.

It's got a Lincoln motor and it's really souped up
That Model A body makes it look like a pup
It's got eight cylinders and uses 'em all
Got overdrive, just won't stall

With a four barrel carb and dual exhausts
With four-eleven gears you can really get lost
Got safety tubes, but I ain't scared
The brakes are good, the tires fair

Pulled out of San Pedro late one night
And the moon and the stars were shining bright
We was drivin' up Grapevine Hill
Passin' cars like they was standing still

All of a sudden, in the wink of an eye
A Cadillac sedan passed us by
I said, "Boys, that's a mark for me!"
By then the tail lights was all you could see

Now the fellas ribbed me for being behind
So thought I'd make the Lincoln unwind
Took my foot of the gas and man alive
I shoved it on down into over drive

Wound it up to a-hundred-and-ten
My speedometer said that I hit top end
My foot was glued like lead to the floor
That's all there is and there ain't no more

Now the boys all thought that I'd lost my sense
And telephone poles looked like a picket fence
They said "Slow down, I see spots!"
The lines on the road just looked like dots

Took a corner, Side-Swiped a truck
Crossed my fingers just for luck
My Fenders was clickin' the guard rail posts
The guy beside me was white as a ghost

Smoke was coming from outta of the back
When I started to gain on that Cadillac
Knew I could catch him, I thought I could pass
Don't ya know by then we'd be low on gas?

Had flames comin' from outta the side
Feel the tension, man what a ride
I said "Look out boys, I've got a license to fly"
And that Caddy pulled over and let us by

Now all of the sudden she started to knockin'
And down in a dips she started to rockin'
I looked in the mirror, a red light was blinkin'
The cops was after my Hot Rod Lincoln

They arrested me and they put me in jail
And called my pappy to throw my bail
He said "Son, you're gonna to drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop drivin' that Hot Rod Lincoln"

è il numero che ho
triste camminare
inutili perché;
favole e bugie
che parlano di Dio
stupidi soldati
che chiedono di me
Solo nei giardini delle menti siede
il tempo che verrà
siede chi ha perduto accarezzando
quella pace che non ha
e pace di un momento è riposare
su quest'isola di niente...
Ma la verità
è il numero che ho
triste camminare
inutili perché.
E come un aquilone
che vento non ha
io non pano più
di credere di perdonare:
troppe verità
che chiedono di me

(PFM ' L'Isola Di Niente')

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LalR8MC7zDA

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Andre

The wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams.
Upon the instruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
As silence drowns the screams.

Between the iron gates of fate,
The seeds of time were sown,
And watered by the deeds of those
Who know and who are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend
When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.

Confusion will be my epitaph.
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back
And laugh.
But I fear tomorrow Ill be crying,
Yes I fear tomorrow Ill be crying.

---

I love King Crimson

I've tried to mend, the love
That ended long ago
Although we still pretend..

Our love is surely coming to an end
Don't waste the time you've got to love again

We tried to lie
But you and I
Know better than to let each other lie
The thought of lying to you makes me cry
Counting up the times that passed us by

I've sent this letter hoping it will reach your hand
And if it does I hope that you will understand
That I must leave
In a while
And though I smile
You know the smile is only there to hide
What I'm really feeling deep inside
Just a face where I can hang my pride

Goodbye...
Goodbye...




We'll talk of places that we went
And times that we have spent
Together penniless and free

You'll see the day another way
And they could put the sunshine
for a nighttime where you lay

You're love began I don't know when
But if you do I know that
you'll be happy in the end


ELP - Trilogy

Post-festivities
I'm feeling numb now
from remedies and Prozac
and a can of two-tone
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
Prozac
Don't touch that phone dial
Stick with kindred
Welcome in
I'm on automation
And family
Is cerebral caustic
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
(I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb)
Everything is broken
because of grist that curtails
get the Western on
Stick with family
At the lodge
At the lodge
At the lodge
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
I'm feeling numb now
I'm feeling numb
I'm feeling numb now
Don't touch that phone dial
I'm feeling numb
Stick with kindred
(Feeling numb now)/At the lodge
(Feeling numb)/At the lodge
(Feeling numb now)
The grist that curtails the mill
will make us strong
(Feeling numb)
And you'll be dead
before I'm born

'Feeling Numb' The Fall

May I ask posters to this thread to please credit the lyrics they quote? Otherwise they are somewhat impotent when read in isolation.

Regards

To be honest, 99.99% of song lyrics are rubbish when divorced from their musical setting.

La poésie contemporaine ne chante plus... Elle rampe
Elle a cependant le privilège de la distinction...
Elle ne fréquente pas les mots mal famés... elle les ignore
On ne prend les mots qu'avec des gants : à "menstruel" on préfère "périodique", et l'on va répétant qu'il est des termes médicaux qui ne doivent pas sortir des laboratoires et du Codex.

Le snobisme scolaire qui consiste, en poésie, à n'employer que certains mots déterminés, à la priver de certains autres, qu'ils soient techniques, médicaux, populaires ou argotiques, me fait penser au prestige du rince-doigts et du baisemain.

Ce n'est pas le rince-doigts qui fait les mains propres ni le baisemain qui fait la tendresse.
Ce n'est pas le mot qui fait la poésie, mais la poésie qui illustre le mot.

Les écrivains qui ont recours à leurs doigts pour savoir s'ils ont leur compte de pieds, ne sont pas des poètes, ce sont des dactylographes.

Le poète d'aujourd'hui doit être d'une caste, d'un parti ou du Tout-Paris.
Le poète qui ne se soumet pas est un homme mutilé.

La poésie est une clameur. Elle doit être entendue comme la musique.
Toute poésie destinée à n'être que lue et enfermée dans sa typographie, n'est pas finie. Elle ne prend son sexe qu'avec la corde vocale, tout comme le violon prend le sien avec l'archet qui le touche.

L'embrigadement est un signe des temps.
De notre temps

Les hommes qui pensent en rond ont les idées courbes.
Les sociétés littéraires c'est encore la Société.
La pensée mise en commun est une pensée commune.

Mozart est mort seul,
Accompagné à la fosse commune par un chien et des fantômes.
Renoir avait les doigts crochus de rhumatismes.
Ravel avait dans la tête une tumeur qui lui suça d'un coup toute sa musique.
Beethoven était sourd.
Il fallut quêter pour enterrer Béla Bartok.
Rutebeuf avait faim.
Villon volait pour manger.
Tout le monde s'en fout...

L'Art n'est pas un bureau d'anthropométrie !

La Lumière ne se fait que sur les tombes...

Nous vivons une époque épique et nous n'avons plus rien d'épique
La musique se vend comme le savon à barbe.
Pour que le désespoir même se vende il ne reste qu'à en trouver la formule.
Tout est prêt :
Les capitaux
La publicité
La clientèle
Qui donc inventera le désespoir ?

Avec nos avions qui dament le pion au soleil,
Avec nos magnétophones qui se souviennent de "ces voix qui se sont tues",
Avec nos âmes en rade au milieu des rues,
Nous sommes au bord du vide,
Ficelés dans nos paquets de viande,
A regarder passer les révolutions

N'oubliez jamais que ce qu'il y a d'encombrant dans la Morale,
C'est que c'est toujours la Morale des autres.

Les plus beaux chants sont des chants de revendications
Le vers doit faire l'amour dans la tête des populations.

A L'ÉCOLE DE LA POÉSIE ON N'APPREND PAS: ON SE BAT !

Léo Ferré- Il n'y a plus rien - Préface

Bubble perm
Ever since your bubble perm
I’ve gone ex-directory
Just in case you need me

Swivel chair
In your leather swivel chair
You can turn your back on me
Leave me in the out-tray

She’s the main man in the office in the city
And she treats me like I’m just another lackey
But I can put a tennis racket up against my face
And pretend that I am Kendo Nagasaki

Executive
Think you’re all executive
But I could still upset you with
Millican and Nesbitt

Acumen
Loads of business acumen
But can you remember when
You would die for Flintlock

Mary oh Mary
Quite ordinary
Tell me how does your CD collection grow
With Sade and Whitney
Vandross and T’Pau
Everything’s AOR

She’s the main man in the office in the city
And she treats me like I’m just another lackey
But I can put a tennis racket up against my face
And pretend that I am Kendo Nagasaki

She’s the main man in the office in the city
I remember though when she was reading Jackie
But I can put a tennis racquet up against my face
And pretend that I am Kendo Nagasaki

Everything's AOR HMHB

Why do you stare
Do you think that I care?
You've been mislead
By the thoughts in your head

Your words waste and decay
Nothing you say
Reaches my ears anyway
You never spoke a word of truth

Why do you think
I believe what you said
Few of your words
Ever enter my head

I'm tired of liver for freaks?
With tongues in their cheeks
Turning their eyes as they speak
They make me sick and tired

Are you confused
To the point in your mind
Though you're blind
Can't you see you're wrong
Won't you refuse
To be used
Even though you may know
I can see you're wrong
Please, please, please open their eyes
Please, please, please don't give me lies

I loon? all of the earth
Witness my birth
Cried at the sight of a man
And still I don't know who I am

I've seen paupers as kings
Puppets on strings
Dance for the children who stare
You must have seen them everywhere

...........................

Each part was played
Though the play was not shown
Everyone came
But they all sat alone

The dawn opened the play
Waking the day
Causing a silent hooray
The dawn will break another day

Now that it's done
Are we going to see the reason why I'm here

ELP - The Endlesss Enigma Pt.1&2

They called me the Reverend when I entered the Crurch unstained;
my employers have changed but the name has remained.
It all began when I went on a tour,
hopping to find some furniture.
I followed a sign - it said "Beautiful Chest".
It led to a lady who showed me her best.
She was taken by surprise when I quickly closed my eyes.
So she rang the bell, and quick as hell
Bob the Nob came out on his job
to see what the trouble was.
"Louise, is the Reverend hard to please?"
"you're telling me!"
"Perhaps, sir, if it's not too late,
we could interest you in our Staffordshire plate?"
"Oh no, not me. I'm a man of repute."
But the Devil caught hold of my soul and a voice called out "Shoot!"

I'm tired Lord and I'm drawn
And I'm chilled right to the bone
I crawled home from my work
And this note said she was gone

Said your dinner's in the cat
And your love is out the door
I'm goin' back to my momma
And I don't want you no more, no more

She said she don't want me no more
She's gone back to her momma
Said she's never never comin' back no more

Now a man can take so much
And only heaven knows his limit
But a naggin' bitchin' woman
Digs a hole and puts him in it

A sophisticated man
Needs a little something on the side
So what you don't get at home
You've gotta get outside, hey

(Chorus:)
She's gone : I'm spending all of my money
She's gone, gone, gone : And I can swing with my honey
She's gone, I'm so glad my woman's gone


Now time goes marching on
And it won't wait for you
You've gotta take it when it's offered
And get it when it's due

Now a man can move much faster
Without a millstone around his neck
So if you get the chance to lose it
You've gotta drop it and run like heck, hey

(Chorus)

Modern Man Blues - 10cc

In this sumptuous hacienda,
Where I weigh things up as they’re on the way down
From beneath your Reverend Jim Jones bedspread
I watch the angels look down onto your sweet brow

If God had meant for us to work
Then I’m sure he would have given us jobs
Six weeks to live but at least I’m not in Journey
Sign on you crazy diamond

I didn’t take much time convincing her
Baby, I’m from the Wirral peninsula
A merciless despot, with nothing to lose
In my Dick Quax running shoes

Underneath the shade of the average tree where
They handed out mediocrity
I saw you with Alchemy under your arm
Standing in the middle of a long queue

I saw the Goodyear airship sail over your head
I saw the joke I told you fly over your head
Why don’t they have any badminton courts in the jungle?
Because there isn’t the demand
Oh let me take you by the hand

Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo on my mind

'A Lilac Harry Quinn' HMHB

Ian Dury - 'Geraldine' from 'Mr Love Pants'

I'm in love with the person in the sandwich centre
If she didn't exist I'd have to invent her
There isn't any secret to my frequent visits
It's the way she makes them and they're all exquisite

I'm in love with the person in the sandwich centre
Enamoured of the magic of her fresh polenta
My temperature rises and my pulses quicken
When she gets cracking with the coronation chicken
Geraldine, Geraldine

I know there's much more to life than the physical side
I should put these thoughts on hold
But when she's buttering my baguette
My blood runs hot and cold
Geraldine, G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-Geraldine
Geraldine, G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G

I'm in love with the person in the sandwich centre
I'm living for the moment that I next frequent her
In beauty's eyes beholding my inamorata
As she works her wonders on a dried tomato
Geraldine, Geraldine

I know there's much more to life than the sensual side
The spiritual should come first
But when she's buttering my baguette
I think I'm going to burst
Geraldine, that's the nicest badge I've ever seen
Geraldine, you make the world seem fresh and clean
Geraldine, G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-Geraldine
Geraldine

Another home falls by the wayside
A few old cushions stuffed with pride
A hand is shaking from the rubble
This is spirit is still alive
A servant bares his occupation
Breaks his back just growing old
Never mind his views were taken
Just saw by the rules of old

Less cities more moving people
Rushing out with pride
Less cities more moving people
Hands that once were tied

A church bell rang for the occasion
The average man learns what's in store
Now he sees where his life was taken
Fighting heat, but growing old

Less cities more moving people
Rushing out with pride
Less cities more moving people
Hands that once were tied

Is this what we call education
Just watch the wheel of time revolve
But why is this not what I'm thinking
Just one mind and the unknown!

Less cities more moving people
Rushing out with pride
Cities are moving people
Who just forgot their lives

The Fixx - Phantoms - Less Cities, More Moving People

Si tu peux voir détruit l'ouvrage de ta vie
Et sans dire un seul mot te mettre à rebâtir
Ou perdre d'un seul coup le gain de cent parties
Sans un geste et sans un soupir

Si tu peux être amant sans être fou d'amour
Si tu peux être fort sans cesser d'être tendre
Et, te sentant hais, sans haïr à ton tour
Pourtant lutter et te défendre

Si tu peux supporter d'entendre tes paroles
Travesties par des gueux pour exciter des sots
Et d'entendre mentir sur toi leurs bouches folles
Sans mentir toi-même d'un mot

Si tu peux rester digne en étant populaire
Si tu peux rester peuple en conseillant les rois
Et si tu peux aimer tous tes amis en frère
Sans qu'aucun d'eux soit tout pour toi

Si tu sais méditer, observer et connaître
Sans jamais devenir sceptique ou destructeur
Rêver, mais sans laisser ton rêve être ton maître
Penser sans n'être qu'un penseur

Si tu peux être dur sans jamais être en rage
Si tu peux être brave et jamais imprudent
Si tu sais être bon, si tu sais être sage
Sans être moral ni pédant

Si tu peux rencontrer triomphe après défaite
Et recevoir ces deux menteurs d'un même front
Si tu peux conserver ton courage et ta tête
Quand tous les autres les perdront

Alors les Rois, les Dieux, la Chance et la Victoire
Seront à tout jamais tes esclaves soumis
Et, ce qui vaut mieux que les Rois et la Gloire
Tu seras un homme, mon fils.

Bernard Lavilliers - If

Inspired by the whf/wtf thread:

Re: Our gig at Deptford Abyss
Who the hell does Jeff Dreadnought think he is?
Was he even there? (I ask myself)
Does he even care? (don’t kid yourself)
Wait ’til our PR men hear of this

It’s a bad review, we got a bad review …oh Lord
It’s a bad review – wotta we gonna do? …oh Lord
I can’t walk down the street ‘cos other groups I might meet, and they’ll smirk
Oh, it’s a rum old do, is a bad review …oh Lord
And my girlfriend’s fuming

You hacks don’t know where it’s at
You can’t appreciate the master of the Strat
Not that I’m concerned (‘course you’re not)
Your paper’s full of crap (‘course it is)
I only read the gig guide anyway

It’s a bad review, a b-b-b-bad review …oh Lord
We got a bad review, I can’t believe its true …oh Lord
Well I know what you look like, so don’t ever come near Stroud,
Page 32, it’s a bad review …oh Lord
My girlfriend’s fuming

OK – let’s go to chapel

Oo-oo – what’s to do? It’s a bad review
Oo-oo – what’s to do? It’s a bad review

The fearsome hollow boom of the older boys in the deep end
The green shoots of recovery shrivelled up in harsh tomorrows
Left to pick dry sticks and mumble to myself
A melancholy emblem of parish cruelty

'Bad Review' Half Man Half Biscuit

What ever happened to twin sets?
What ever happened to Hi-fi?
What ever happened to TV sex?
What ever happened to you and I?

Your passion is a product
of highlight and detail.
That come hither look--
Bonus offer retail.

Whatever happened to pick-up trucks?
Whatever happened to yellow pages?
Whatever happened to burning books?
Whatever happened to new ages?

Your emotions are cheap--
Cut, price, cash and carry.
You wear your heart on your sleeve
For any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

Your love is a cashed-in cheque.
Oh oh, that's the way of all flesh!

Whatever happened to Chairman Mao?
Whatever happened to God above?
Whatever happened to the cow?
Whatever happened to plug-in love?

Your pasteurised life--
So fit for consumption.
Ooh, those undressing eyes--
So strictly commercial.

Your love is a cashed-in cheque
Oh oh, that's the way of all flesh!
All flesh!
All flesh!

'Whatever Happened To?' The Buzzcocks

You’re not mine anymore, as we take our last walk together
Along the midnight shore
Before we say goodbye, forever

Shall I call you "love" or use your name
Shall I wear my sadness face, or look the same
I am careful to avoid the touch of your hand
I must not be drawn into the bedroom of your eyes

You could say you’d see me soon, but you’re as silent as the moon
You could say “let’s start again”, but you think of other men
And I wonder if I ever knew, the more elusive inner you
For the buttons of your mind were difficult to find
and my fingers far too clumsy…






Roger McGough - The Scaffold

I notice that this excellent thread has lain fallow for some time. It’s time to resurrect it. To do so I’m going to provide two examples by a female singer songwriter whose lyrical poetry can stand comparison with that of Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell: Susanne Vega.

The first example is a repeat of the Susanne Vega song forming an early (8th) post to this thread by Nick (Beechwoods). I’m repeating it for two reasons: firstly because it is an excellent example of subtle lyric writing on a difficult subject, and secondly the following post was such a crass, puerile and stupid reply that, in my opinion, it all but sabotaged the good intentions of the thread. It is Susanne Vega’s ‘Marlene on the Wall’.

As Nick opined in his offering of this song, Marlene refers to a picture on a wall that observes the social interaction described in the song. It might actually be a poster of Marlene Dietrich, but whether it is or not doesn’t matter, it's what is going on that is of more interest. Is it, as Nick suggests, about an illicit affair, or is it as seems more likely, a description of domestic violence – an aspect of a failed but trapped relationship?


‘Marlene on the Wall’

Even if I am in love with you
All this to say, what's it to you?
Observe the blood, the rose tattoo
Of the fingerprints on me from you

Other evidence has shown
That you and I are still alone
We skirt around the danger zone
And don't talk about it later

Marlene watches from the wall
Her mocking smile says it all
As the records the rise and fall
Of every soldier passing

But the only soldier now is me
I'm fighting things I cannot see
I think it's called my destiny
That I am changing

Marlene on the wall

I walk to your house in the afternoon
By the butcher's shop with the sawdust strewn
"Don't give away the goods too soon"
Is what she might have told me

And I tried so hard to resist
When you held me in your handsome fist
And reminded me of the night we kissed
And of why I should be leaving

Marlene watches from the wall
Her mocking smile says it all
As the records the rise and fall
Of every man who's been here

But the only one here now is me
I'm fighting things I cannot see
I think it's called my destiny
That I am changing

Marlene on the wall.


This second song by Susanne Vega and taken from her first album (as is ‘Marlene on the Wall’), is also about a very difficult and sensitive subject: that of parental child abuse. What I find particularly shocking, but sadly realistic, is the desire of the victim to retreat into his own little world, afraid to talk about it to a stranger who may be able to help for fear of further abuse. Here it is:

‘Luka’

My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes I think you've seen me before

If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble. Some kind of fight
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was

I think it's because I'm clumsy
I try not to talk too loud
Maybe it's because I'm crazy
I try not to act too proud

They only hit until you cry
After that you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore

Yes I think I'm okay
I walked into the door again
Well, if you ask that's what I'll say
And it's not your business anyway
I guess I'd like to be alone
With nothing broken, nothing thrown

Just don't ask me how I am
Just don't ask me how I am
Just don't ask me how I am

My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes I think you've seen me before

If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was

And they only hit until you cry
After that, you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore.

Hi Barry,

I always though of 'Luka' as about domestic violence (wife) rather than child abuse but a great song from a wonderful songwriter / singer none-the-less. Another on a similar subject comes from those great commentators on the social condition, 10,000 Maniacs.

'What's the Matter Here' from In My Tribe

"That young boy without a name
Anywhere I'd know his face
In this city the kid's my favorite
I've seen him
I see him every day
Seen him run outside
Looking for a place to hide
From his father
The kid half naked
And said to myself
"O, what's the matter here?"

I'm tired of the excuses
Everbody uses
He's their kid
I stay out of it
But who gave you the right
To do this?

We live on Morgan Street
Just ten feet between
And his mother
I never see her
But her screams and cussing
I hear them every day
Threats like
"If you don't mind
I will beat on your behind"
"Slap you, slap you silly"
Made me say
"O, what's the matter here?"

I'm tired of the excuses
Everybody uses
He's your kid
Do as you see fit
But get this through
That I don't approve
Of what you did
To you own flesh and blood

I'm tired of the excuses
Everybody uses
He's your kid
Do as you see fit
But get this through
That I don't approve
Of what you did
To you own flesh and blood

"If you don't sit
In your chair straight
I'll take this belt
From around my waist
And don't you think
That I won't use it!"
Answer me and take your time
What could be the awful crime
He could do at such young an age?
If I'm the only witness
To your madness
Offer me some words to balance
Out what I see and what I hear
All these cold and rude
Things that you do
I suppose you do
Because he belongs to you
And instead of love
And the feel of warmth
You've given him these cuts
And sores won't heal
With time or age
I want to say
"What's the Matter here?"
But I don't dare say
"What's the Matter here?"
But I don't dare say"


On a different theme, how about 'Ruby's Arms' by Tom Waits. The man is a master of holding a melody through the rhythm of the lyrics.

"I will leave behind all of my clothes,
I wore when I was with you,
all I need's my railroad boots
and my leather jacket.
As i say goodbye to Ruby's arms
although my heart is breaking,
I will steal away out through your
blinds, for soon you will be waking.

The morning light has washed your face
and everything is turning blue now.
Hold on to your pillow case
there's nothing i can do now.
As I say goodbye to Ruby's arms,
you'll find another soldier,
and i swear to god by christmastime,
there'll be someone else to hold you.

The only thing I'm taking is
the scarf off of your clothesline,
I'll hurry past your chest of drawers
and your broken wind chimes,
as i say goodbye
I'll say goodbye,
say goodbye to Ruby's arms.

I will feel my way down the darkened hall,
and out into the morning,
the hobos at the freightyards
have kept their fires burning.
So Jesus Christ this goddamn rain,
will someone put me on a train.
I'll never kiss your lips again
or break your heart,
as I say goodbye
I'll say goodbye,
say goodbye to Ruby's arms."

Wonderful.

Fine lyrics from the master himself. :)


Catholic girls
With a tiny little mustache
Catholic girls
Do you know how they go?
Catholic girls
In the rectory basement
Father rileys a fairy
But it don't bother mary
Catholic girls
At the cyo
Catholic girls
Do you know how they go?
Catholic girls
There can be no replacement
How do they go, after the show?

There is at the moment a concurrently running thread entitled “What’s so great about the Beatles”. Well, I my opinion, their song ‘She’s Leaving Home’ alone would earn them more than respect enough.

I have never heard a song whose lyrics so eloquently and poignantly expresses the alienation and distance that can sometimes occur between parents and their late teenage offspring. Even reading the lyrics brings tears to my eyes. No party is truly guilty – though guilt is felt. The feeling of ingratitude and betrayal perceived by the parents, though not understanding that the ‘sacrifices they made’ had lead to a stifling and lonely environment for their daughter. If only they had sat down together and talked about it.

‘She’s Leaving Home’

Wednesday morning at five o'clock
as the day begins
Silently closing her bedroom door
Leaving the note that she hoped would say more
She goes downstairs to the kitchen
clutching her handkerchief
Quietly turning the back door key
Stepping outside she is free

She (we gave her most of our lives)
is leaving (sacrificed most of our lives)
home (we gave her everything money could buy)
She's leaving home after living alone for
so many years (bye bye)

Father snores as his wife gets into her dressing gown
Picks up the letter that's lying there
Standing alone at the top of the stairs
She breaks down and cries to her husband
Daddy our baby's gone
Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly
How could she do this to me

She (We never thought of ourselves)
is leaving (never a thought for ourselves)
home (we struggled hard all our lives to get by)
She's leaving home after living alone for
so many years (bye bye)

Friday morning at nine o'clock she is far away
Waiting to keep the appointment she made
Meeting a man from the motor trade

She (what did we do that was wrong)
is having (we didn't know it was wrong)
fun (fun is the one thing that money can't buy)
Something inside that was always denied for
so many years (bye bye)
She's leaving home (bye bye)

This one is by Rickie Lee Jones: ‘The Last Chance Texaco’. Probably my favourite RLJ song. Not sure exactly why it’s my favourite, maybe it’s because I think the idea of using a clapped out, run-down automobile that needs a bit of TLC, as a metaphor for a woman’s unsuccessful relationship with men is rather clever.

And now it’s her last chance, “to trust the man with the star”, “her timing’s all wrong – she can’t idle this long”, “she just needs a man, that’s all”.

I would commend that your actually listen to this track (end of Side 1 on RLJ’s eponymous LP), so that you can hear RLJ making ‘Eeee- yeeow’ noises, mimicking the sound of the traffic on I-9.


‘The Last Chance Texaco’

A long stretch of headlights
Bends into I-9
Tiptoe into truck stops
And sleepy diesel eyes
Volcanoes rumble in the taxi
And glow in the dark
Camels in the driver's seat
A slow, easy mark

But you ran out of gas
Down the road a piece
Then the battery went dead
And now the cable won't reach...

It's your last chance
To check under the hood
Last chance
She ain't soundin' too good,
Your last chance
To trust the man with the star
You've found the last chance Texaco

Well, he tried to be Standard
He tries to be Mobil
He tried living in a world
And in a shell
There was this block-busted blonde
He loved her - free parts and labour
But she broke down and died
She threw all the rods he gave her

But this one ain't fuel-injected
Her plug's disconnected
She gets scared and she stalls
She just needs a man, that's all

It's her last chance
Her timing's all wrong
Her last chance
She can't idle this long
Her last chance
Turn her over and go
Pullin' out of the last chance Texaco
The last chance.

Two sublime choices Barry.

Rickie Lee Jones: ‘The Last Chance Texaco’ - Spotify Link

ELP (Mr Palmer probably)

Good night, good night....
Look at that moon shine so bright.
And tonight he smiles
Especially for you.

Sleep tight, sleep tight.
Know everything is alright.
And tonight I will be here
Watching over you.

For tonight I will be here watching over you.
Tonight I’ll be here watching over you.

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams.
It is never as real as it seems.
And in the morning when you wake up
I will be right here.

Sleep on, sleep on.
For no matter how dark or how long
It may seem that your night is
I will still be here.

I will still be here watching, watching over you.
So sleep, little darling, sleep on through.

So be still, be still
For you know that I always will
Tonight and forever
Be watching over you.

For tonight and forever, be watching over you.
So sleep, little darling, sleep on through.

I will be watching over you.


Our son was born what seems like yesterday and eleven and a half years on he's 5' 6" - taller than his Mum and with bigger shoe size than me.. However tall or old he gets, I hope to honour the lyrics above in some way or another :)

:goodnight:

I've always had a bit of a thing for Del Amitri - it used to be a guilty pleasure, but now I'm not guilty about it. I often think that Justin Curry and Iain Harvie's lyrics are overlooked. They have a way of setting a scene just so with lines like these:

Before the Evening Steals the Afternoon

Lovers they walk on the bright side of the street
And the city it shines in surprise in the ice cream heat
And I want to be kissed in the haze of this hotel room
Before the evening steals the afternoon

And the traffic it shakes as my travel shaver drones
And the maid she mistakes my 'come in' for a 'please leave me alone'
But I want to be held in the swell of her sweet perfume
Before the evening steals the afternoon

Before the daylight dies and the dusty sky gets rusted up with tungsten
Before the phony night stakes its claim on walkers waiting at the junction

From the blue shade of the park, couples emerge
Dropping hands like they're still scared to get caught
But I want to be caught in their rage of embraces too
Before the evening steals the afternoon




Also, Move Away Jimmy Blue has more than a bit of a She's Leaving Home

A struck match faded like a nervous laugh
Beyond the halo of a naked bulb
Your low voice mingles with your other half?s;
Schoolfriends in second-hand clothes
Eventually your world will shrink within four walls
Of neglected debts and stolen stereos.

So move away Jimmy Blue
Before your small, small town turns around
And swallows you

A drunk mother was the cue
For the legendary things that you do
Behind a carnival tent with mud on your face
Behind the old glue factory too.

So move away Jimmy Blue
Before your small, small town turns around
And swallows you

Wet feet visit the same old places
Finding nothing new
It?s a binful of tissues from made-up faces
In a townful of nothing to do
A love match with the moon
In a layby, while insects hum and
You got put in the darkness of a woman?s womb
Jimmy blue.

So move away,
Move away Jimmy Blue
Before your small, small town
Turns around and swallows you.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Barry

There is at the moment a concurrently running thread entitled “What’s so great about the Beatles”. Well, I my opinion, their song ‘She’s Leaving Home’ alone would earn them more than respect enough.

I have never heard a song whose lyrics so eloquently and poignantly expresses the alienation and distance that can sometimes occur between parents and their late teenage offspring.

---

Someone once wrote about the different reaction to the song you had as a kid: 'Down with the fascist parents, man!' to those you have as a parent: 'The ungrateful little trollop!'.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by The Grand Wazoo

I've always had a bit of a thing for Del Amitri - it used to be a guilty pleasure, but now I'm not guilty about it. I often think that Justin Curry and Iain Harvie's lyrics are overlooked.

---

Oh, yes:

Snow in a soulless city covers up the cracks in the road
As a wastrel buys her cigarettes and wipes her pretty nose
Like a part-time Elvis imitator, these streets I knew so well
Have been pasted beyond recognition with a temporary smell

Now the midnight train eases out leaving everyone marooned
And without her it might as well be the surface of the moon

From the well-swept streets of Jackson Heights to the dockside drudgery
Everything's now a replica of what it used to be
And since they tarted up the tramsheds and painted the bridges blue
It seems less like a home to me than just a place they bury you

Now we're lit up like a cathedral in our frozen concrete ruin
And without her it might as well be the surface of the moon

So I need her and I love her that is true
But I'm stuck here like some shipwreck still holding on to you
So when they beat out the tramps and patch up the slums
Everything will be fine
There'll be a new facade for us to hide behind

So on the ancient trails of our coupling in the places we used to meet
I am amazed by the lack of memories that I thought would flood through me
And the riverside where we first kissed has now been reduced
To a phoney old world market where only shoppers get seduced

Now your arms embrace me strangely in your old familiar room
And for all I care it might as well be the surface of the moon
Yeah for all I care it might as well be the surface of the moon

Lowell George - 'Twenty Million Things'

If it's fix a fence, fender dents
I've got lots of experience
Rent gets spent
All the letters never written, that don't get sent
It comes from confusion, all things I left undone
It comes from moment to moment, day to day
The time seems to slip away

But I've got twenty million things to do, twenty million things
All I can think about is you
With twenty million things
Twenty million things to do

I've got mysterious wisteria hanging in the air
The rocking chair I was supposed to fix
Well it came undid
And all the things that I let slip, I found out quick
It comes from moment to moment, day to day
The time seems to slip away

But I've got twenty million things to do, twenty million things
All I can do, is think about you
With twenty million
Twenty million things to do

I've got mysterious wisteria hanging in the air
The rocking chair I was supposed to fix
Well it came undid

That, is just pure, unadulterated genius, those three lines. I didn't know the track or artist (sorry) - but just... yes! http://open.spotify.com/track/6vcTWUW5ZcC1Zg28xzBJsm