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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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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.
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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?
