Poetry in Lyrics

Thanks again for a great poem, Cav.


(excerpt from)
My Life, Billy Joel


I never said you had to offer me a second chance

I never said I was a victim of circumstance-

I still belong, don't get me wrong

And you can speak your mind
But not on my time

They will tell you, you can't sleep alone in a strange place
Then they'll tell you, you can't sleep with somebody else
Ah, but sooner or later you sleep in your own space
Either way it's okay, you wake up with yourself

I don't need you to worry for me cause I'm alright

I don't want you to tell me it's time to come home

I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life

Go ahead with your own life, and leave me alone

(just to get it off my chest today)

Hey jackie, I am hesitant to continue on sad themes, but Elvis Costello is another favourite of mine. (I will find more Nick Cave to post as well). Back in university I found myself in a horrid relationship, and when I got out, there were three albums I listened to over and over...Van Morisson's 'Astral Weeks', Tori Amos's 'Little Earthquakes', and Elvis Costello's 'King of America'. Here are the lyrics from the title track:

King of America

He thought he was the King of America
Where they pour Coca Cola just like vintage wine
Now I try hard not to become hysterical
But I'm not sure if I am laughing or crying
I wish that I could push a button
And talk in the past and not the present tense
And watch this hurting feeling disappear
Like it was common sense
It was a fine idea at the time
Now it's a brilliant mistake

She said that she was working for the ABC News
It was as much of the alphabet as she knew how to use
Her perfume was unspeakable
It lingered in the air
Like her artificial laughter
Her mementos of affairs
"Oh" I said "I see you know him"
"Isn't that very fortunate for you"
And she showed me his calling card
He came third or fourth and there were more than one or two
He was a fine idea at the time
Now he's a brilliant mistake

He thought he was the King of America
But it was just a boulevard of broken dreams
A trick they do with mirrors and with chemicals
The words of love in whispers
And the axe of love in screams
I wish that I could push a button
And talk in the past and not the present tense
And watch this lovin' feeling disappear
Like it was common sense
I was a fine idea at the time
Now I'm a brilliant mistake

I'm a big fan of Joaquín Sabina. Since I'm afraid you don't know this composer, I have translated a few songs (some of the poetry is lost in the translation).

At The Chimney Side

I can be corny and say
That your lips have the taste of the lips
That I kiss on my dreams.
I can be sad and say
That it's enough for me to be your enemy, your everything,
Your slave, your fever, your owner.
And if you want it
I can also be your station and your train,
Your good and your evil,
Your bread and your wine
Your sin, your God, your assasin...
Or maybe that shadow
That throws itself next to you on the carpet
At the chimney side
To wait for the tide to rise.

I can be humble and say
That I'm not the best one,
That I like the courage to tie you to my bed.
I can be dignified and say:
"Take my adress. When you're fed up
of cheap short loves... call on me".
And if you want it
I can also be your trapeze and your net,
Your goodbye and your "come",
your blanket and your cold,
Your hangover, your monday, your weariness...
Or perhaps that wind
That uproots you from boredom
And lets you embracing a doubt
In the middle of the street, and naked.
And if you want it,
I can also be your lawyer and your judge,
Your fear and your faith,
Your night and your day
Your rancor, your reason, your agony...
Or maybe that shadow
That throws itself next to you on the carpet
At the chimney side
To wait for the tide to rise.

Love Is the Name Of The Game

It's been too many months
that my clowinsh acts don't provoke
your will to laugh.
Not that you don't interest me
But the time of kisses and sweat
is at sleep time.
It hurts to see you stir
the little box of ashes that pleasure left behind.

Badly and late I am keeping
the word I gave you when I swore that
I would write you a song.
A sad, envious God
punished us
for climbing together the tree
and stuffing us with the flower of passion, for tasting that flavor.

Water appeases fire,
and years appease ardor
Love is the name of the game
in which two blind people
play at harming each other
and every time it's worse
and every time we're more broken
and every time there's more of you
and every time there's more of me
without a trace of us.

Not guilty, nor innocent,
hearts ripped by the storm,
cannonball flesh.
It's not me, nor you, nor anybody,
it's the miserable fingers who turn my clock
And there are no tears.
worth enough to go back
to that car where that night, in the middle of carnival I started to undress you.

Water appeases fire,
and years appease ardor
Love is the name of the game
in which two blind people
play at harming each other
and every time it's worse
and every time we're more broken
and every time there's more of you
and every time there's more of me
without a trace of us.


Run, said the tortoise

Run, said the tortoise,
Dare, said the coward,
I'm back, said a guy
who had never gone anywhere,
Save me, sid the executioner,
I know it was you,
said the guilty.
Don't yell at me, said the deaf man,
today is Thursday, said Tuesday,
and don't your perfume yourself
with words to console me,
leave me alone with myself,
with the intimate enemy
that hardly lives with a pension
inside my heart.
The suspicious one, the fugitive,
the darker of the two,
the poor relative of doubt,
the one who never undresses
if I don't undress first.
The capricious one,
the proud one,
the other, the accomplice, the traitor.
I'm talking to you, to you
who never follow my advices,
I'm yelling to you, to you
who are inside my skin,
to you, who are crying there,
at the other side of the mirror.
To you, whom I owe no more
than the push that, last night,
made me write this song.

Don't lie to me, said the liar,
good luck, said the jinx,
take care of the soul, said
the fat meat seller,
taste me, said the poison,
love me like lovers hate.
No drugs, said the pusher.
How much are you worth? said the gangster.
I was about to give up,
one step from burning my vessels,
when at the side of the road
destiny, twice,
made a wink at me in the shape of
woman's lips:
-"Would you buy us a drink?"-
-"I'll dry your sweat"-
-"I'll wmbrace you under the clothes"-
-"And who's going to sleep with me?"-
-"Don't you dream about it"- she answered
one of them indignant,
the other one, enchanted,
said nothing and smiled.
I'm talking to you, to you
who never follow my advices,
I'm yelling to you, to you
who are inside my skin,
to you, who are crying there,
at the other side of the mirror.
To you, whom I owe no more
than the push that, last night,
made me write this song.

fbaezer,

These are wonderful lyrics...
what messages that tear the heart!!

Cav---don't hesitate... this is SOO-O what my heart is crying now...



Crying is ok, it 'washes' the soul- (not to mention the eyes).[size=7][/size]

Ok jackie...this one always tears me up, also from 'King of America':

Indoor Fireworks

We play these parlour games
We play at make believe
When we get to the part where I say that I'm going to leave
Everybody loves a happy ending but we don't even try
We go straight past pretending
To the part where everybody loves to cry

(chorus)
Indoor fireworks
Can still burn your fingers
Indoor fireworks
We swore we were safe as houses
They're not so spectacular
They don't burn up in the sky
But they can dazzle or delight
Or bring a tear
When the smoke gets in your eyes

You were the spice of life
The gin in my vermouth
And though the sparks would fly
I thought our love was fireproof
Sometimes we'd fight in public darling
With very little cause
But different kinds of sparks would fly
When we got on our own behind closed doors

(chorus)

It's time to tell the truth
These things have to be faced
My fuse is burning out
And all that powder's gone to waste
Don't think for a moment dear that we'll ever be through
I'll build a bonfire of my dreams
And burn a broken effigy of me and you

(chorus)

I like this one, Cav. Great lyric

King of America was such a personal album, so true to real relationships, I must post another. This tune ended an album so tortured with a note of hope, and it also always breaks me up:

I'll Wear it Proudly

I hate these flaming curtains they're not the color of your hair
I hate these striplights they're not so undoing as your stare
I hate the buttons on your shirt when all I wanna do is tear
I hate this bloody big bed of mine when you're not here

[chorus]

Well I finally found someone to turn me upside down
And nail my feet up where my head should be
If they had a King of Fools then I could wear that crown
And you can all die laughing because I'll wear it proudly

Well you seem to be shivering dear and the room is awfully warm
In the white and scarlet billows that subside beyond the storm
You have this expression dear no words could take its place
And I wear it like a badge that you put all over my face

[chorus]

I'll wear it proudly through the dives and the dancehalls
If you'll wear it proudly through the snakepits and catcalls
Like a fifteen year old kid wears a vampire kiss
If you don't know what is wrong with me
Then you don't know what you've missed

We are arms and legs wrapped round more than my memory tonight
When the bell rang out and the air outside turned blue from fright
But in shameless moments you made more of me than just a mess
And a handful of eagerness says "What do you suggest?"

[chorus]

I loved this one as well, from The Juliet Letters:

This Sad Burlesque

I write in hopes that by the time you get this letter
We may live to see a change for the better
Or are we so devoted to these wretched selfish motives
When the cold facts and figures all add up
They cannot contradict this sad burlesque

This sad burlesque
With miserable failures making entertainment of our fate
Laughter cannot dignify or elevate
This sad burlesque

How can they recall being young and idealistic
Before wading knee-deep in hogwash and arithmetic
The pitying smirk
The argument runs like clockwork
Will run down eventually and splutter to a stop

P.S. Well by now you know the worst of it
And we've heard all the alibis that they've rehearsed
The smug predictions
If it's not a contradiction
Keep faith in human nature
And have mercy on the creatures in this sad burlesque

I mentioned Van Morrison earlier, and although I am not sure why, the title track from Astral Weeks, more than the other tunes, helped me through that dark period:

Astral Weeks

If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
From the far side of the ocean
If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me
And I'm pushin' on the door
Could you find me?
Would you kiss my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
There you go
Standin' with the look of avarice
Talkin' to Huddie Ledbetter
Showin' pictures on the wall
Whisperin' in the hall
And pointin' a finger at me
There you go, there you go
Standin' in the sun darlin'
With your arms behind you
And your eyes before
There you go
Takin' good care of your boy
Seein' that he's got clean clothes
Puttin' on his little red shoes
I see you know he's got clean clothes
A-puttin' on his little red shoes
A-pointin' a finger at me
And here I am
Standing in your sad arrest
Trying to do my very best
Lookin' straight at you
Comin' through, darlin'
Yeah, yeah, yeah
If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes
Lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
To be born again
In another world
In another world
In another time
Got a home on high
Ain't nothing but a stranger in this world
I'm nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high
In another land
So far away
So far away
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
We are goin' up to heaven
We are goin' to heaven
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place
In another face

Well, the smart money's on Harlow
And the moon is in the street
The shadow boys are breaking all the laws
And you're east of East St. Louis
And the wind is making speeches
And the rain sounds like a round of applause
Napoleon is weeping in the Carnival saloon
His invisible fiance is in the mirror
The band is going home
It's raining hammers, it's raining nails
Yes, it's true, there's nothing left for him down here
Chorus:
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
That you love
And it's Time Time Time
And they all pretend they're Orphans
And their memory's like a train
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away
And the things you can't remember
Tell the things you can't forget that
History puts a saint in every dream
Well she said she'd stick around
Until the bandages came off
But these mamas boys just don't know when to quit
And Matilda asks the sailors are those dreams
Or are those prayers
So just close your eyes, son
And this won't hurt a bit
Chorus
Well, things are pretty lousy for a calendar girl
The boys just dive right off the cars
And splash into the streets
And when she's on a roll she pulls a razor
From her boot and a thousand
Pigeons fall around her feet
So put a candle in the window
And a kiss upon his lips
Till the dish outside the window fills with rain
Just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
And pay the fiddler off till I come back again


...More Waits

Yes, Waits...


Well I see that the world is upside-down
Seems that my pockets were filled up with gold
And now the clouds, well they've covered over
And the wind is blowing cold
Well I don't need anybody, because I learned, I learned to be alone
Well I said anywhere, anywhere, anywhere I lay my head, boys
Well I gonna call my home




So true, Cav, so true.

Thanks for the Waits, Beedlesquoink

What's funny is that I have more music than I could possibly listen to in a lifetime, but when it comes to lyrics as poetry, it always comes down to Nick Cave, Tom Waits, and Elvis Costello for me...and I forget the simpler but poignant lyrics of great singer-songwriters like Stan Rogers, another favorite of mine. I will include his liner notes to these two songs as well:

First Christmas

There's a lot of people who seem to get mesmerized by the Muzak at any holiday season, and are so caught up in the give and get, buy and sell routine that they forget how the word "holiday" derives from "Holy Day" and that a "Holiday" is meant to be a time of reflection as well as a celebration. This was my reflection last year. [ed. This is a 3-hanky song for sure]

This day, a year ago, he was rolling in the snow
With a younger brother in his father's yard.
Christmas break - a time for touching home
The heart of all he'd known, and leaving was so hard -
Three thousand miles away, now he's working Christmas Day
Making double time for "the minding of the store"...
Well, he'd always said he'd make it on his own
He's spending Christmas Eve alone.
First Christmas away from home.


She's standing by the train station, panhandling for change
Four more dollars buys a decent meal and a room.
Looks like the Sally Ann place after all,
In a crowded sleeping hall that echoes like a tomb
But it's warm and clean and free and there are worse places to be,
And at least it means no beating from her Dad
And if she cries because it's Christmas Day
She hopes that it won't show...
First Christmas away from home.


In the apartment stands a tree, and it looks so small and bare
Not like it was meant to be
The Golden Angel on the top, it's not that same old silver star
You wanted for your own
First Christmas away from home.


In the morning, they get prayers, then it's Crafts and tea downstairs
Then another meal back in his little room
Hoping maybe that "the boys" will think to phone before the day is gone
Well, it's best they do it soon.
When the "old girl" passed away, he fell more apart each day
Each had always kept the other pretty well
But the kids all said the nursing home was best
'Cause he couldn't live alone...
First Christmas away from home.


In the Common Room they've got the biggest tree
And it's huge and cold and lifeless,
Not like it ought to be
And the lit-up flashing Santa Claus on top
It's not that same old silver star you once made for your own
First Christmas away from home.


Delivery Delayed

Until this album came along, I rarely performed this song in public. I had wanted it for the last album, "Turnaround", but it didn't fit. It is the last of the songs which I wrote for the CBC Olympic Folk Opera "So Hard To Be Strong", and in many ways, one of the best songs I have ever written.

How early is "Beginning"? From when is there a soul?
Do we discover living, or, somehow, are we told?
In sudden pain, in empty cold, in blinding light of day
We're given breath, and it takes our breath away.


How cruel to be unformed fancy, the way in which we come -
Over-whelmed by feeling and sudden loss of love
And what price dark confining pain, (the hardest to forgive)
When all at once, we're called upon to live.


By a giant hand we're taken from the shelter of the womb
That dreaded first horizon, the endless empty room
Where communion is lost forever, when a heart first beats alone
Still, it remembers, no matter how its grown.


We grow, but grow apart -
We live, but more alone -
The more to see, the more to see,
To cry aloud that we are free
To hide our ancient fear of being alone.


And how we live in darkness, embracing spiteful cold
Refusing any answers, for no man can be told
That delivery is delayed until at last we're made aware
And first reach for love, to find 'twas always there.

Three hanky songs-- for real.

You really earn your Caviar, Cavfancier!!
These are SUPERB POETRY.

I need a tissue too jackie....I will find more once my nose clears up...

Forest Fire
(Lloyd Cole and the Commotions, from the album "Rattlesnakes")

she crossed herself as she put on her things
she has promised once before not to live this way
if she don't calm down she will burn herself out
like a forest fire, well doesn't that make you smile

if you don't slow down, i swear that i'll come round
and mess up your place, let's go for a spin
they say we shouldn't even know each other
and that we'll be undone
don't it make you smile like a forest fire

i believe in love, i'll believe in anything
that's gonna get me what i want and get me off my knees
then we'll burn your house down, don't it feel so good
there's a forest fire every time we get together

doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo
doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo

hey pick you up, put you down
rip you up and spin you round
just like we said we would
'cause we're a forest fire
believe you me, we'll tear this place down

if we get caught in this wind then we could burn the ocean
if we get caught in this scene we're gonna be undone
it's just a simple metaphor, it's for a burning love
don't it make you smile like a forest fire

Once, some friends and I debated on what was the most depressing song ever written...we never decided, but this was among my nominations, I think for the one note of hope not being uplifting at all (from The Juliet Letters again):

The Birds Will Still Be Singing

Summertime withers as the sun descends
He wants to kiss you. Will you condescend?
Before you wake and find a chill within your bones
Under a fine canopy of lover's dust and humourous bones
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
Eternity stinks, my darling. That's no joke
Don't waste your precious time pretending you're
heartbroken
There will be tears and candles
Pretty words to say
Spare me lily-white lillies
With the awful perfume of decay
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
If I'm lost or I'm forgiven
The birds will still be singing

It's so hard to tear myself away
Even when you know it's over
It's too much to say.
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
If I'm lost or I'm forgiven
The birds will still be singing

More Waits, I love this one for it's hard-boiled Dashiell Hammet feel:

Small Change
(Got Rained on with His Own .38)

Well small change got rained on with his own .38
and nobody flinched down by the arcade
and the marquees weren't weeping
they went stark-raving mad
and the cabbies were the only ones
that really had it made
and his cold trousers were twisted,
and the sirens high and shrill
and crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
and the naked mannikins with their
cheshire grins
and the raconteurs
and roustabouts said buddy
come on in
cause the dreams ain't broken down here now
now ...they're walking with a limp
now that

small change got rained on with his own .38"
and nobody flinched down by the arcade
and the burglar alarm's been disconnected
and the newsmen start to rattle
and the cops are tellin' jokes
about some whore house in Seattle
and the fire hydrants plead the 5th Amendment
and the furniture's bargains galore
but the blood is by the jukebox
on an old linoleum floor
and it's a hot rain on 42nd Street
and now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic
with stains on his pants cause

small change got rained on with his own .38
and no one's gone over to close his eyes
and there's a racing form in his pocket
circled "Blue Boots" in the 3rd
and the cashier at the clothing store
he didn't say a word as the
siren tears the night in half
and someone lost his wallet
well it's surveillance of assailants
if that's whatchawannacallit
and the whores hike up their skirts
and fish for drug-store prophylactics
with their mouths cut just like
razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
and her radiator's steaming
and her teeth are in a wreck
now she won't let you kiss her
but what the hell do you expect
and the Gypsies are tragic and if you
wanna to buy perfume, well
they'll bark you down like
carneys... sell you Christmas cards in June
but...

small change got rained on with his own .38
and his headstone's
a gumball machine
no more chewing gum
or baseball cards or
overcoats or dreams and
someone is hosing down the sidewalk
and he's only in his teens

small change got rained on with his own .38
and a fistful of dollars can't change that
and someone copped his watch fob
and someone got his ring
and the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
and the tuberculosis old men
at the Nelson wheeze and cough
and someone will head south
until this whole thing cools off cause
small change got rained on with his own .38
yea small change got rained on with his own .38

Makes me think, Cav- Tom Waits has done a LOT of living in a lot of places to sing these lyrics!
Covering so much of life, in profound words!


And this is indeed sad!

Surprises! Kitchen Pete! What wild lyrics you like Ummm, Uh, I like 'em too. Loving like a forest fire, huh? Oh yes, my kind of emotion!
Thanks for posting these lyrics.

Now... "I"m leavin' on a jet plane, dunno when I'll be back again..."
This little lyric is partly in error,
(I hate flying, but do it occasionally )
I am leaving shortly, and hopefully WILL be back. Maybe the new server will be better? Love to all!!!!

Poetry
When you and I are far apart
can sorrow mend my broken heart
I really miss you, yes I do
sleep is sweet when I dream of you
all I do is think of you
night is here so I must close
with care read the first word of each line
you will there a question find?

LOL

When you and I are far apart
can sorrow mend my broken heart
I really miss you, yes I do
sleep is sweet when I dream of you
all I do is think of you
night is here so I must close
with care read the first word of each line
you will there a question find?

Lol, it would have been funnier without the clue...sounds a bit like a few English classes up from "Here I sit, broken hearted..."

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