06.18.2008, 07:33 PM | #1 |
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discounting factors like delivery and voice, who do you rate the words of as standing up decent like on their own without the music
for me id say the fall are the best example i can think of - you can actually enjoy reading it without listening to it. share what you rate as great poetry from singers - the fall - room to live Some people want stars in eyes Some people want eyes in stars They've been like that for years They've been like that for years I suspect they're just if if if I just want room to live There's a new club in town Plenty of space to posy around It's a copy of the Peppermint Lounge (I'll stick around the center always Even if it is run down.) Some people wanna be joining the club Thinks to be on the clientele is big I just want room to live Foreigners and Experts go in And through my place Turn my home into a museum Like the murder squad They scan the room For the well of inspiration They don't tolerate ordinary folk and folk look at me strange But I'll give them this at least: They pay for what they eat Visitors and peripherers never give I just want room to live Some people think happy is way to live Some men want to cram up to women I've been down that street before It just makes meat out of the soul There's a D.H.S.S.S. Volvo estate Right outside my door With a Moody Blues cassette on the dashboard There's no hate to the point I give I just want room to live Violence is just waiting for its due Some people want money around You can tell, they're the ones that never buy a round And some men want reporters with no wig And some people cannot hold their drink They've got to tell you what they think And some men want reporters with no wig I just want room to live |
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06.18.2008, 07:35 PM | #2 |
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more fall - this to me is a brilliant statement on mentall illness -
By order of the assessor There's no cure so find a case for it There's no cure so find a cause against it He made a mistake three times at least Let's face it, you don't make the same mistake twice |
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06.18.2008, 07:38 PM | #3 |
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No I dont know just why.
No I dont know just why. Which way to turn, Ive got this ticket to use. Through childlike ways rebellion and crime, To reach this point and retreat back again. The broken hearts, All the wheels that have turned, The memories scarred and the vision is blurred. No I dont know just why, Dont know which way to turn, The best possible use. Just passing through, till we reach the next stage. But just to where, well its all been arranged. Just passing through but the break must be made. Should we move on or stay safely away? Through childlike ways rebellion and crime, To reach this point and retreat back again. The broken hearts, All the wheels that have turned, The memories scarred and the vision is blurred. Just passing through, till we reach the next stage. But just to where, well its all been arranged. Just passing through but the break must be made. Should we move on or stay safely away?
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06.18.2008, 07:39 PM | #4 |
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Sorry, but Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes) is hands down the best lyric writer I've ever heard. Say what you want about the guy, but he's motherfucking brilliant.
I raise my glass to symmetry To the second hand and its accuracy To the actual size of everything The desert is the sand You can't hold it in your hand It won't bow to your demands There's no difference you can make There's no difference you can make And if it seems like an accident A collage of senselessness You weren't looking hard enough I wasn't looking hard enough at it An argument for consciousness The instinct of the blind insect Who makes love to the flower bed And dies in the first freeze Oh I want to learn such simple things No politics, no history Till what I want and what I need Can finally be the same The arc of time, the stench of sex The innocence you can't protect Each quarter note, each marble step Walk up and down that lonely treble clef Each wanting the next one Each wanting the next one to arrive An argument for consciousness The instinct of the blind insect Who never thinks Not to accept its fate, that's faith There is happiness in death You get to the next one You get to the next one down the line The levity of longing that Distills each dream inside my head By morning watered down forget On silver stars I wish and wish and wish From one to the next one From one to the next right down the line |
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06.18.2008, 07:39 PM | #5 |
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Beetles and eggs and blues and pour a little everything else
You steam a lens stable eyes and glass Not get pissed off through my bird lips as good news Still we can find our love down from behind Down far behind this fabulous, my turn rules Beetles and eggs and blues and bells and eggs and then blued Beetles and eggs and blues and pour a little everything else You steam a lens stable eyes and glass Not get pissed off through my bird lips as good news You'll hang the hearts black and dull as the night We hanged your pass and start being as you in ecstasty Still being cried and laughed at before Should I be sewn in hugged I can by not saying Still being cried and laughed at from light to blue And should I be hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque And should I be sung and unbroken by not saying You mind not saying He'll hang that heart's black and dull as the night Still being cried and laughed at from behind me, from gains We hanged your pass and star being as you in ecstasy Still being cried and laughed at from behind me, from gains Should I be sung and unbroken by not saying Still being cried and laughed at from behind me, from gains Hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque for key
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06.18.2008, 07:42 PM | #6 |
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I wanna find me a woman who'll hold my big toe till I have to go
I wanna find a blue swirl plastic ocarina About five miles long And play with them sweet potatoes all night long 'cause them yams have all them eyes that yawn 'yearn down yonder below the ground 'n their golden hair is ah dirty brown I wanna find me a woman that'll hold my big toe till I go I wanna hold me a woman that'll find my big toe Till I have to go 'n sow my last sweet potato.
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06.18.2008, 07:43 PM | #7 |
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like that about the argument for conciousness
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06.18.2008, 07:45 PM | #8 |
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I do like MES though, for the fact that he knows that there are no rules as to what you can write about, or how you can construct your point.
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06.18.2008, 07:48 PM | #9 |
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I'll tell you who I don't think is a good lyricist: Beck. He just makes random shit up. Seriously, what the fuck is he ever talking about? The one time he made sense, on Sea Change, it was sophmore poetry. Still love the guy, though.
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06.18.2008, 07:48 PM | #10 |
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beck is a twat but i'll let it go because he's responsible for the song title "MTV makes me wanna smoke crack"
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06.18.2008, 07:58 PM | #11 |
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mtv makes me want to smoke beck, he looks like he could break apart like tobbaco
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06.18.2008, 08:38 PM | #12 |
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Angry Samoans:
They saved Hitler's cock, They hid it under a rock. I discovered it, last night. I couldn't even, believe my eyes. If Hitler's cock could start to talk, it would say: To kill today. If Hitler's cock could choose it's mate, it would ask, for Sharon Tate! They saved Hitler's cock. They stuffed it in Mengele's sock. They saved Hitler's cock, and now it wants to talk. Now it's starting to get hard, I found it in my backyard. Every night it kills a dog, and now it wants, some night and fog Hitler's cock is on the move, and now I'm scared of what it's gonna do!
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06.18.2008, 08:39 PM | #13 |
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Also, Whitehouse.
"What do you want to be when you grow up? Certainly not raped."
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I don't give a fuck thats the problem. I see a motherfuckin cop i don't dodge them. |
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06.18.2008, 09:46 PM | #14 |
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i love how pointed Jenny Hoysten's lyrics are
Staring at an empty line Knowing it's a paper waste Gideon can't save me now in my hotel room Mary seems a put on next to Virginia Archetype versus a modern fantasy Mary has nothing on Virginia She walks past downtown on a cloud I shook and I moved and I got all around Took (the) staircase up and the lift back down Forgotten and allowed to become Another hotel suicide Staring at an empty line This note is a paper waste They've got a law in the desert They've got a law to protect their children They've got a law to help each other Where everybody has a gun Everybody has knife I can do the diseased soft shell I can do the dizzy soft shoe |
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06.18.2008, 10:29 PM | #15 |
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I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way And none of you stand so tall Pink moon gonna get you all Its a pink moon Its a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon
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06.19.2008, 04:19 AM | #16 |
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Andrew Bird is fantastic
When I was just a little boy I threw away all of my action toys While a I became obsessed with Operation With hearts and minds and certain glands You gotta learn to keep a steady hand And thus began my morbid fascination Tore the spines from out of all of these self-help books Made myself a gun that not only shoots but looks So real It shoots through steel With rays of dark matter Do you wonder where the self resides Is it in your head or between your sides And who will be the one who will decide Its true location And does the thought of bile that’s red and black The thought of tongues that taste you back Fill you with a nauseouseous sort of elation A noose is loosed around our necks made of DNA And every day it’s growing tighter no matter what they do or say And you can shoot right through it with rays of dark matter Just before they kick out the ladder With rays of dark matter Like something catching fire Do you wonder where the self resides Is it in your head or between your sides And who will be the one who will decide Its true location |
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06.19.2008, 04:33 AM | #17 | |
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Otherwise, he's a very good lyricist. |
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06.19.2008, 06:24 AM | #18 | |
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Quote:
"Blue Angels Air Show" is my favourite; Claire's turning blonde for the summer I guess the sunlight just soaks into her hair and she sits next to me on the motorboat and shyly replies as to which boy she likes at her school. so I am reminded of things I've forgotten. the way doors can open and people just walk in. it's not unexpected, no it's just how you planned it. I'm beginning to think that it might never happen. but now it is happening. there's a show we can see at the base outside of town where the planes they turn circles in the air. I watch you stand next to me with your hand over your mouth and join the crowds heavy gasp. one for each time they pass overhead. so we've been selected in this beautiful lottery. we struggled so long but it ended so easy. it's starting to surface, all golden and godlike this feeling we had every day and every night. it bursts in an energy. a door it is opening. Also, you gotta love Tom Waits! A grand example is '9th and Hennepin'; Well it's Ninth and Hennepin All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes And the moon's teeth marks are on the sky Like a tarp thrown all over this And the broken umbrellas like dead birds And the steam comes out of the grill Like the whole goddamn town's ready to blow... And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos And everyone is behaving like dogs And the horses are coming down Violin Road And Dutch is dead on his feet And all the rooms they smell like diesel And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here And I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat... And no one brings anything small into a bar around here They all started out with bad directions And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear One for every year he's away, she said Such a crumbling beauty, ah There's nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won't fix She has that razor sadness that only gets worse With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet til you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen... And I've seen it all, I've seen it all Through the yellow windows of the evening train... |
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06.19.2008, 06:26 AM | #19 |
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There's a girl, playing her piano, there's a little girl, playing her big piano
While her mother gives her an enema, while her mother While her mother gives her an enema, while her mother And then the daddy comes in and jacks off on the piano, and jacks off on the piano And jacks off on the piano, and jacks off on the piano Meanwhile, the local maternity ward, nurse comes in with a great big sledgehammer She kills all the little babies, destroys the monitoring system Says she got some time to stick around She calls the doctor, said look what I've done She calls the doctor, said look what I've done She calls the doctor, said look what I've done Doctor comes in, pops a boner and jacks off in her cap And then the motel manager comes by And takes a little shit in his hand, and then he takes a little shit in his hand And then he takes a little shit in his hand And the he puts it on like lipstick, lipstick, he puts it on like lipstick, lipstick |
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06.19.2008, 06:45 AM | #20 | |
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