Song lyrics that can stand alone as poetry

[bluevictim]

I'm not sure you're comments disagree with anything I said. Lyrics are repetitive because the musical patterns are repetitive. Choruses, of course, provide the central theme for the musical composition of a rock song, hence why they repeat the choruses in the first place (both musically and lyrically), and serve as segues between the lyrics. It's the glue so to speak of a song.

I think lyrics can be very meaningful. I just don't think they're meant to be read as poetry in the same way a Shakespeare poem is supposed to be read.

Maybe we are just talking in circles. Let me try to clarify.

Here is what I thought you were/are trying to say:


You can't remove the song lyrics from the music itself.
Reason 1. When you read the song lyrics without the music, they aren't at all like Shakespeare.
Reason 2. This song by the Clash is pretty lame without the music.
Reason 3. This song by the Rolling Stones is pretty lame without the music.
Reason 4. This song by Metallica rocks when you consider the guitar part.

Sub-point: the reason song lyrics are repetitive is usually because the music behind it is repetitive



My previous post was mainly about the sub-point concerning repetition. I guess I probably made too much of the word "because". I agree that repetition in songs often follow a form (as does repetition in poems). I thought you were trying to say that the repetition in the lyrics is merely an artifact of the music. Now I'm not sure what you were trying to say. To say that the lyrics often repeat according to a structure seems tautological to me. Maybe you were just musing and I mistook it as some point you were trying to get across.

I also tried to touch on the point that "you can't remove the song lyrics from the music itself". If all you meant was that there are some songs that are lame when the lyrics are considered apart from the music, I fully agree. I don't agree that this is true of songs in general.

I do agree that most lyrics do not read like Shakespearean poems. In fact, I would agree that even the best song lyrics do not give the same kind of enjoyment as Shakespeare (usually). I don't see why this means you can't remove the song lyrics from the music, though. Song lyrics, even apart from the music, often provide a different kind of enjoyment. If this is all you meant , I agree, but I dislike the use of the word 'depth' to describe the difference. Song lyrics are not as 'deep' as Shakespeare only in the sense that Ovid is not as 'deep' as Virgil.

As for there being examples of song lyrics that aren't compelling without the music (like Hot Stuff) and examples of songs where music adds a lot to the lyrics (like Ride the Lightning), I don't see what their existence is meant to imply about the quality of other song lyrics. I think there are many examples of songs whose lyrics are very rewarding to read. I already mentioned Eleanor Rigby, which I think achieves a great amount of emotional resonance with a very brief narrative. Not even Coleridge and Wordsworth's lyrical ballads are as efficient. I think the lyrics of Stairway to Heaven are very well-written, as well. The metrical structure of that song is quite rich, and reminds me of ancient Greek lyrics, like the choruses of the tragedies. I have come across few contemporary non-song poems as effective in their rhythmic structures, and this kind of complexity isn't typical of Shakespeare. There are also great examples from musical theater, like the one Modest Proposal posted above.

However, I think lyrics can be meaningful. I'm certainly not calling them meaningless and vapid. I thought the U2 lyrics that I posted were meaningful.

It's probable that I simply missed something entirely about what you are trying to say.

And of course the Major General's solo. This time do it REALLY fast!

I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
...

I love it.

[mortalterror]

I'm also a fan of Gilbert and Sullivan.

[Mrs. Dalloway]

Any bob dylan's song!

[Teeqs89]

One or two of Jason Mraz's song -- A Beautiful Mess and Plane have the best lyrics..it might not be conventional but you can say its a postmodern poem

[Heathcliff]

One or two of Jason Mraz's song -- A Beautiful Mess and Plane have the best lyrics..it might not be conventional but you can say its a postmodern poem

Yea, I guess. And of a modern song as well, he is pretty cool.

[neilgee]

I don't think you would count these as song lyrics that qualify as poetry but every line in the song is taken from a book by Elizabeth Smart called "By Grand Central Station I sat down and wept" right from "Do you hear me when you sleep?"

The book still has something of a cult standing


Well I wonder
Do you hear me when you sleep ?
I hoarsely cry
Why ...

Well I wonder
Do you see me when we pass ?
I half die ...
Why ...



Please keep me in mind


Gasping - but somehow still alive
This is the fierce last stand of all I am


Gasping - dying - but somehow still alive
This is the final stand of all I am

[Heathcliff]

These are a few of the lines, in moderately messed up order, of I'm Going Slighty Mad by Queen. Would make an awesome extended metaphor. Enough so, anyway.


" You're missing that one final screw
You're simply not in the pink my dear
To be honest you haven't got a clue
I'm one card short of a full deck
I'm not quite the shilling
One wave short of a shipwreck
I'm not at my usual top billing
I'm coming down with a fever
I'm really out to sea
This kettle is boiling over
I think I'm a banana tree
I'm knitting with only one needle
Unravelling fast its true
I'm driving only three wheels these days "

[Revolte]

folk and riot folk seem to be the closest I can think of to poetry lol. Of coruse like always its heard better then read.

Mischief Brew - Ramblers Ghost

she's off to anywhere
every town grows stale soon enough
so it's fields to east and the hills to the west
under crescent moons
and grassy bends
she lays her head to rest

she's been in a hundred movies
and in six billion dreams
taking out wood and wide
singing romance round the fire
giving tastes of truth to those of us employed as liars

and we sing ain't that the life
she's got it made
her head in the sand her guitar in the shade
rambling beauty she sang to me
was she in my mind
or on the tv
yes she's on my mind
come from the tv

noble hobo corporate cutthroat got the wisdom of the tramp
brother can't spare no crumbs
don't you trip over the bums
as you step out of a cab
on the way to see a gypsy band

railroad boxcar blasts and burns on down the line
and her feet are a swingin'
and the song she's a singin'
tell of greener fields and freer times

and we sing ain't that the life
she's got it made
her head in the sand her guitar in the shade
rambling beauty she sang to me
was she in my mind
or on the tv
yes she's on my mind
come from the tv

rambling beauty
let me be your mate for awhile
be a shoulder for your head
carry a bag and roll up bed
another day in this place
and i swear i'll end up dead

and how I'm sorry
that my ancestors threw you in jail
but now I can see your ramblings were poetry
will you sell me the rights if I put up the bail?

and we'll sing ain't that the life
we've got it made
our heads in the sand our guitars in the shade
rambling beauty sing sweet to me
yeah you're on my mind
just like on tv
yeah you're on my mind
come from the tv


Mischief Brew - A Rebel's Romance

Goodnight, my dear
Lay aside songs of spite and fear
We lovers are bound
Completing the circle and waltzing around
Your words soothe as fire
Roaring and washing the tinsel from liars
And with every kiss, solace and bliss, will not seem so rare

A rebel's embrace, shall give us a taste
Of truth that is masked by a sly poker face
A spirit is well and alive
Live and we will survive.


Goodnight, my love
The moon, she shines from above
So forgot all the rough
Rejoice and revolt with love when you rise up
Your words soothe as waters;
Carving a path through mountains and mortar
To shatter the ground, walls of silence with sound
With lions and doves

A rebel's embrace, shall give us a taste
Of truth that is masked by a sly poker face
A spirit is well and alive
Live and we will survive.

[TheRoyalist]

Apologies for not reading all the comments. I have to disappear soon. Probably Springsteen has been quoted and this is my fave. Thunder Road.

Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes
Of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind so Mary climb in
It's town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win

[Drums]

Arctic Monkeys man Alex Turner is an amazing lyricist (if that's a word)

Fright Lined Dining Room
You thrive on dancing in our laps before the more familiar chaps who know the curtain leads to fever
We watched a womanizer cry and in the last sip you and I declared we might require a breather
I am a truth’s true truant and I can feign excitement fluently as solidly as I can busk shock.
With well presented merriment and I know all too well I shouldn’t break the key off in the lock
The tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fits
in the fright lined dining room throw a gaze towards them while they feast
The days drag their heels when you’re not there to crack the whip
And the weeks wait to burst like a sachet of brats
The old pantomime villain follows my coat and he hides where it hangs and he spies through the slats
And meanwhile in the desert’s only costume shop the cowls hang and wait to rot away the identities of the willing
I’m back to sugar in the night, rocketing shutter doors despite the shop not opening for hours
You can itch, flap and whistle.
Try to avoid the tock
as I scribbled over drivel you were snoring showing off.
The tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fits in the fright lined dining room
throw a gaze towards them while they feast.

Catapult
Both sides,
In softly came the growl from both sides
And if his whisper splits the mist
Just think of what he’s capable of with his kiss

Nice try,

You cannot turn away, but nice try
He’ll turn your legs to little building blocks and with his index finger flicks you on your socks

I go high pitched
He’ll talk and make your voice sound high pitched
Dread to think if he got you on your own and whispered in your ear in that baritone

It’s the same stone
His heart was cut out of the same stone that they use to carve his jaw
It’s impossible not to feel inferior

And he could catapult you back to your daddy or into any hissing misery
And he will tell you how the day after a triumph is as hollow as the day after a tragedy
He’ll extinguish any chance of escape when he slaps you on your arse or kisses your nape
And he’s leaving without saying bye

And they would queue up to listen to him pissing and hang around to watch some poor girl blub
And then they’d chase him down the avenue incessantly pestering him to let him join the club
He knows how to put a cork in the fuss and just how to shut up the charming ones of us

And I’ve seen him talking to your lady friend

There’s a dust track waiting for betrayal where he’ll teach you all the bits they missed

Dance Little Liar
I heard the truth was built to bend.
A mechanism to suspend the guilt is what you will require
and still you’ve got to dance little liar
It’s just like those fibs to pop and fizz
and you’ll be forced to take that awful quiz
and you’re bound to trip and she’ll detect the fiction on your lips
dig a contradiction up

The clean coming will hurt
and you can never get it spotless
when there’s dirt beneath the dirt
The liar takes a lot less time
I’m sure it’s clear and plain to read
It’s not an alibi you need just yet
Oh no, it’s something for those beads of sweat,
yes that will get you back to normal
And after you have dabbed the patch
you’ll breathe and then proceed to scratch the varnish off that newly
added calmness so as not to raise any alarms too soon
The liar takes a lot less time to decide on the saunter
Have you got itchy bones and in all your time alone
can you hack your mind being riddled with the wrong memories?
The clean coming will hurt
and you can never get it spotless
When there’s dirt in between the dirt

[jet.thursday]

the lyrics of this song, well for me, made an impact
and i think it sends a good message

In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth:3 by Coheed and Cambria

A broad incision sits across the evening
The victim to our fathers lost war
The restless children sit and mourn the graves
Of those they've never seen before
Will they be buried here among the dead?
In the silent secret

The pioneers
In dealing with it they march for dawn, of Will and worthy
The truth be told the child was born
Man your own jackhammer
Man your battle stations
We'll have you dead pretty soon
And now
Sincerely written from my brother's blood machine
Man your battle stations
We'll have you home pretty soon
And now

Awake through motion with curiosity to curtain your first move
Over arms length they'll break protocol
Jealous envy for the youngest one
To be the hero is all I'll ask
Can I be buried here among the dead?
With room to honor me here in the end
You'll be better off too soon
You'll be better off when you get home

For you,
I'd do anything just to make you happy,
hear you tell me that you’re proud of me
For them,
I'll kill anything cut the throats of babies for them
break their hearts for they were them
Waiting for you to say: I love you too

The navigator
The pilot
Her favorite
The one they call the vision that bears the gift

Will,
Do the children really understand the things you did to them?
And why oh why…
Should they conjure up the will for you my love I would kill him
we're coming home pretty soon
Coming home

In the seventh turning hour
Will the victims shadow fall?
Should the irony grow hungry?
With the victory and all they sought for
We were one among the fence
One among the fence

We're coming home

Man your own jackhammer
Man your battle stations
We'll have you dead pretty soon
And now
Sincerely written from my brother's blood machine
Man your battle stations
We'll have you home pretty soon
tonight

[NikolaiI]

Every Grain of Sand
Bob Dylan


In the time of my confession,
in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet
flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me
reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in
the morals of despair.

Don't have the inclination to
look back on any mistake,
Like Cain,
I now behold this chain of events
that I must break.
In the fury of the moment
I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles,
in every grain of sand.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence
and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals,
they have choked the breath
of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps
of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness
and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of
temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way
I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey
I come to understand
That every hair is numbered
like every grain of sand.

I have gone from rags to riches
in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream,
in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness
fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence
on each forgotten face.

I hear the ancient footsteps like
the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there,
other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance
of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling,
like every grain of sand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within You Without You
The Beatles (Harrison)

We were talking-about the space between us all
And the people-who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion
Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late-when they pass away.
We were talking-about the love we all could share-when we find it
To try our best to hold it there-with our love
With our love-we could save the world-if they only knew.
Try to realise it's all within yourself
no-one else can make you change
And to see you're really only very small,
and life flows within you and without you.
We were talking-about the love that's gone so cold and the people,
Who gain the world and lose their soul-
they don't know-they can't see-are you one of them?
When you've seen beyond yourself-then you may find, peace of mind,
is waiting there-
And the time will come when you see
we're all one, and life flows on within you and without you.

"Ripple"
Grateful Dead

Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia.

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air

(Chorus)

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men

There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone

(Chorus)

You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home

[EJMathews]

I think the lyrics to the bosa nova song, 'The Girl from Ipanema' is poetry:

"Tall and Tan and young and lovely
the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and as she passes, each one she passes
goes, ahh..."

It has always been one of my favorites, because when I heard it sung I could see this young woman with all eyes on her as she walked completely unaware toward the beautiful blue ocean and soft sandy beach.

[Gregory Samsa]

Many of Bob Dylans lyrics. Byt this two I also like.

Into My Arms by Nick Cave

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk,like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms

But I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms

Fruit Tree by Nick Drake

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stock is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.
Forgotten while you're here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.

Life is but a memory
Happened long ago.
Theatre full of sadness
For a long forgotten show.
Seems so easy
Just to let it go on by
Till you stop and wonder
Why you never wondered why.

Safe in the womb
Of an everlasting night
You find the darkness can
Give the brightest light.
Safe in your place deep in the earth
That's when they'll know what you were really worth.
Forgotten while you're here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stock is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.

Fruit tree, fruit tree
No-one knows you but the rain and the air.
Don't you worry
They'll stand and stare when you're gone.

Fruit tree, fruit tree
Open your eyes to another year.
They'll all know
That you were here when you're gone.

[pains of sleep]

I'm sure somebody has mentioned this already, but a lot of "stand alone" poetry was originally intended as song, like much of Shelley's work and arguably Homer's epics, among many others. I think poetry and song are two sides of the same coin, so to speak