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Lyrics from ''town without pity'' by Gene Pitney:
''...If we stop to gaze upon a star
People talk about how bad we are
Ours is not an easy age
We're like tigers in a cage
What a town without pity can do
The young have problems,many problems
We need an understanding heart
Why don't they help us, try to help us
Before this clay and granite planet falls apart...''
Neurotica [a sort of Manhattan field guide?] King Crimson
Good morning, it's 3am in this great roaring
city full of garbage eaters ravaging parking
spots beneath my plaza window I see cheetah in their
tight skins and tired heels all-night hippo in
the diner crossing the street swarthy herds of young
impala flambastic gibbon even a struggling monza
and over there the brilliant head ornament on that
Japanese macaque but look closely at the hammerhead hand
in hand with the mandrill, it's a sight you're
unlikely to see anywhere else on the planet . . .
the stench and the noise, yes, yes, the howler's
resonating repertoire is not too bad when mixed with
the more musical twern of the tropical warbler but the
impatient taxi blare the squawking elderly ibis and
the glass-eyed snapper hawking papers I can certainly
live without also be cautious of the poisonous
boomslang laughter social droppings of the fruit bat
and purple queen fish and who's that babbler conversing
with a magazine stand? evidently he's getting a good reply . . .
arrive in neurotica
through neon heat disease
I swear at the swarming herds
I sweat the foul terrain
I rove the moving scenery
I have no fin
no wing no stinger
no claw no camoflauge
I have no more to say . . .
Say . . . isn't that an elephant fish on the corner over
there look at that bush baby mud puppy noolbenger
rhinoderma marmoset spring peeper shingleback skink
siren skate starling sun-gazer spoonbill and suckers,
they seem to be everywhere, well it's a live revue
random animal parts now playing nightly right here in neurotica . . .
so long . . .
I'm not sure it stands on its own but it is fun to read — at high speed in a few breaths
I think some Leonard Cohen is quite poetic. As is nearly everything Damien Rice writes. I posted the lyrics to his song, "Elephant" in another thread about his poetic prowess.
A lot of the Doors, in my opinion.
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land
Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah
There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west
Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...he's old, and his skin is cold
The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and we'll do the rest
The blue bus is callin' us
The blue bus is callin' us
Driver, where you takin' us
The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...WAAAAAA
Oh, and to Highwayman, hell yes to King Crimson!
It's All right Ma (I'm Only bleeding) by Bob Dylan
http://youtu.be/GtW6crUOFQs
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me ?
And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Conversely, if you turn the sound off of Miley Cyrus' most recent video, it's a lovely avant-garde film work.
And if you turn the video off you can contemplate something much, much more lovely: The wonderous miracle that is the modern high definition television set (or computer).Quote:
Originally Posted by The Truth
Any Simon and Garfunkel really, but Kathy's Song comes to mind!
I thought some of Paul Weller's songs from The Jam days stood up well, for example:
Puts up the closed sign does the man in the corner shop
Serves his last then he says goodbye to him
He knows it is a hard life
But its nice to be your own boss really
Walks off home does the last customer
He is jealous of the man in the corner shop
He is sick of working at the factory
Says it must be nice to be your own boss (really)
Sells cigars to the boss from the factory
He is jealous is the man in the corner shop
He is sick of struggling so hard
Says it must be nice to own a factory
Go to church do the people from the area
All shapes and classes sit and pray together
For here they are all one
For God created all men equal
I like some of Ian Curtis of Joy Division's lyrics. Often I thought he would write a real stand out line followed by another line that was not as good or a bit clichéd. He was a bit morbid.
In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more,
As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor,
And with cold steel, odour on their bodies made a move to connect,
But I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.
I really liked this one song by Jack Johnson. The figurative language he uses just works perfectly to me.
Gone, by Jack Johnson
Look at all those fancy clothes
But these could keep us warm, just like those
And what about your soul, is it cold?
Is it straight from the mold, and ready to be sold?
And cars and phones and diamond rings, bling, bling
Those are only removable things
And what about your mind, does it shine?
Or are there things that concern you more than your time?
Gone going, gone everything
Gone give a damn
Gone be the birds when they don't want to sing
Gone people, all awkward with their things, gone
Look at you out to make a deal
You try to be appealing but you lose your appeal
And what about those shoes you're in today, they'll do no good
On the bridges you burnt along the way
You're willing to sell anything
Gone with your herd, leave your footprints
We'll shame them with our words
Gone people, all careless and consumed,
Gone, gone going,
Gone everything, gone give a damn
Gone be the birds when they don't want to sing
Gone people, all awkward with their things, gone
A fun one from Henry Cow:
War
Tell of the birth
Tell how war appeared on earth
Thunder and herbs
Conjugated sacred Verbs
Musicians with gongs
Fertilized an egg with song
Asleep in the sphere
Her fetus was a knot of fear
She butted with her horn
Split an egg and war was born
A miracle of hate
She banged her spoon against her plate.
Upon her spoon this motto
wonderfully designed:
"Violence completes the partial mind."
Stacking the bones
On the empty aerodrome
Tinted turtle green
She haunts the slender submarine
She shakes her gory locks
Over the deserted docks.
Come follow me
Out of dark obscurity
Follow my torch
Pilgrims at the double march
Through meadows and seas
Abattoirs and libraries
The pilgrims increase
Boasting they are led by peace
They gut huts with gusto
Pillage villages with verve
War does what she has to
People get what they deserve.
''The sound of silence'' by Simon and Garfunkel,absolutely beautiful! :)
''Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence...''
Jazzman
by
Carol King
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUBnLJdi1rU
Lift me, won't you lift me above the old routine
Make it nice, play it clean, Jazzman
When the Jazzman's testifyin'
A faithless man believes
He can sing you into paradise
Or bring you to your knees
It's a gospel kind of feelin'
A touch of Georgia slide
A song of pure revival
And a style that's sanctified
Jazzman, take my blues away
Make my pain the same as yours
With every change you play
Jazzman, oh, Jazzman
When the Jazzman's signifyin'
And the band is windin' low
It's the late night side of morning
In the darkness of his soul
He can fill a room with sadness
As he fills his horn with tears
He can cry like a fallen angel
When risin' time is near
Jazzman, take my blues away
Make my pain the same as yours
With every change you play
Oh, lift me, won't you lift me with every turnaround
Play it sweetly, take me down, oh, Jazzman.