Here is a lyric from the blues singer and guitarist, Robert Cray.

It seems to have the ring of personal experience, I feel.


Right Next Door (Because Of Me)

by The Robert Cray Band


I can hear the couple fighting right next door
Their angry words sound clear through these thin walls
Around midnight I hear him shout unfaithful woman
And I knew right there the axe was gonna fall

It's because of me
It's because of me

I heard him shout who is he, she mumbled low
He said baby don't you lie to me no more
And I'm listening through these thin walls silently
As he called out my name I was right next door

It's because of me
It's because of me

She was right next door and I'm such a strong persuader
That she was just another notch on my guitar
She's gonna lose the man that really loves her
In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts

At daybreak I hear him pack and say goodbye
I can hear him slam the door and walk away
Right next door I hear that woman start to cry
I should go to her but what would I say

It's because of me
It's because of me

She was right next door and I'm such a strong persuader
That she was just another notch on my guitar
She's gonna lose the man that really loves her
In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts.

===========

(Next time he needs a g-string he should maybe go to the music store.)


------------------
Mark Allinson

[This message has been edited by Mark Allinson (edited June 27, 2006).]

Here’s one that I really like:

If Only You Were Lonely (by the Replacements)

I walked out of work
And I was tired as hell
Another day come and gone, oh well
Somewhere there's a drink with my name on it

Well, I ordered a scotch as I bust through them doors
Spilled half on my jeans
The other half on the floor
When I saw you standing by that video game

Well, I ain't very good
But I get practice by myself
Forgot my one line
So I just said what I felt

If only you were lonely
If only you was lonely too
If only you was lonely
I'd go home with you

Twenty push-ups this morning
That was half of my goal
Tonight I'll be doin' pull-ups on the toilet bowl
And somewhere there's somebody a-throwin' up

Well, I broke the seal on my door
Poured myself to bed
The whirlpool spinning around in my head
There was liquor on my breath
You were on my mind

And I'll be dreamin' of that smile
Without a care in the world
If only you were lonely
If only you was lonely too
If only you were lonely

I walked out of the kitchen
I was tired as hell
Another day's here, oh well
Somewhere there's a smile with my name on it

I have to admit that I generally consider lyrics inferior to (other kinds of?) poetry, because lyrics rely on music while (the other kind of?) poetry (ideally) creates its own music, its own pace, its own rhythm, its own mood.

I disagree with the popular statement “it’s not what you say, but how you say it” when it comes to reading poetry. I dare anyone to read a limerick in a serious tone. Or to write a serious limerick, for that matter. My understanding (so far) is that in poetry, form is everything, while lyrics can pretty much get away without it.

Of course, this is not universally true for all poetry and all lyrics, but there are just so many flimsy lyrics out there that cannot stand alone without a melody because they lack a metrical backbone. And others are so metrical that I wouldn’t know how to distinguish them from poetry. Here's an excerpt from Anna Nalick's "Breathe," for example:

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
"Just a day," he said down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year

One interesting thing to note is that in other languages (or at least in Hebrew) one word means both “poem” and “song.”

Maria

Maria--

Westerberg got way, way better than the above as a lyricist--even by Hootenany--though you get kudos for citing a relatively obscure B-side. "Color Me Impressed," while perhaps not poetry, perfectly sums up a number of parties I attended while an adolescent.

Then you hit "Let It Be"--and the cleverness is wed to raw, utterly believable emotion in songs like "Unsatisfied"--or drops out entirely in "Answering machine.

Then Tim--more classic Westerberg than you can shake a stick at--"Hold My Life," "Kiss Me on the Bus," "Little Mascara," "Here Comes a Regular"... one could go on.

Lyrical stand-outs on Pleased to Meet Me include "Never Mind," "Skyway," and "Red, Red Wine."

I'll skip Don't Tell a Soul and All Shook Down for reasons of the hour being late, but there are wonderful songs with wonderful lyrics on both--but Westerberg's lyrics go better with the music, though the man is second to none when it comes to subverting cliches.

Quincy

Maria,

I tried for quite some time tonight to resist your challenge. But, as you can see, I failed.

But another justification for posting the following piece I wrote (once posted on TDE) is that it picks up the idea from Quincy, that "poem" and "song" are closely linked in many languages, and that a sequence of limericks comes as close as poetic form can get to a type of song, or chant at least.

(Anyway, if it's inappropriate I am happy for it to be taken down.)


Sutra of the Irish Buddha

i

The term “human being” is wrong,
we cannot bear Being for long;
instead of awareness
we'd rather stay careless
and drift comatose with the throng.

ii

In preference to Being we dream
and work on the image we seem;
and the image we seem is
the ego whose dream is
to flatter its proud self-esteem.

iii

So drifting in dream is our lot,
where we plot about what can be got;
and acquiring possession
becomes our obsession
till Being is that which is not.

iv

But that which is not makes us fear
its void we sense threateningly near;
since we cannot profess it
we strive to repress it
and cover the gap with more gear.

v

And possession depends upon time,
since time is the essence of “mine”;
so when time fills our brains
little Being remains
to live in the now - life's sublime.


vi

In order that goals may be gained,
the ego must not be restrained;
if it ceased its becoming,
acquiring and summing,
you'd find little ego remained.

vii

To empty oneself is a death
which the ego treats as if Death;
it refuses to know
that beneath it, below,
is the place where our being is breath.

viii

And breath comes and goes as it will,
emptying so it can fill;
to hold it means losing
the flow and abusing
life's natural rhythms until

ix

our world and our wonder are lost,
with bitterness part of the cost;
we resent feeling sad
and believe it's too bad
when our aspirations are crossed.

x


So “human becomings” we are,
a term more appropriate, far;
but the pity is seeing
that missing our being
means we forget that we are.



[This message has been edited by Mark Allinson (edited July 09, 2006).]

Oh, great. First better Westerberg than I posted, then my idea gets picked up from Quincy, and now a serious limerick. What has the world come to?

Maria

Maria - I've heard this song

Anna Nalick's "Breathe," for example:

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
"Just a day," he said down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year

I admire this song. Wonderful how she rhymes sober and October. The melody is very plain and simple, almost as if she were just reciting a poem.

You have a good point here: "there are just so many flimsy lyrics out there that cannot stand alone without a melody because they lack a metrical backbone."

I agree. So not a total loss, eh?

Mary

Thank you, Mary. My two decades’ worth of wisdom was in need of a pat on the back.

Maria

Hi, all--
Sorry about my relative silence of late; almost all of my spare moments in the past couple of weeks have been usurped by our new puppy-- whose name is Sally [Gardens] Taylor. She's been trying her best to house-train us, and I think we're finally starting to get the hang of it.

Anyway, I'm sure a number of you saw David Barber's review in the NYTBR today on the Library of America edition of Cole Porter's lyrics. After a glowing appraisal of Porter as songwriter, I found it interesting to note that he (Barber) has come to pretty much the same conclusions that many of us did on this thread a couple of weeks ago. He writes:

". . .it scarcely needs saying that to savor the full glory of Porter's literate ingenuity, you'd better have your earbuds handy. Truth be told, there's something about his words all by their lonesome that smacks of taxidermy; their pulse depends not only on the visceral artistry of vocal delivery but on the stage personas and narrative trappings so vital to Porter's collaborative medium."

Not only do I approve of that ingenious notion of "taxidermy"-- I also like his pointing out that writing lyrics is indeed a "collaborative" endeavor, even if you're a singer-songwriter and function as your own collaborator. In fact, I think Barber has responded with admirable insight to the is-it-poetry question.

Back to Milk-Bone Nation--

Marilyn

Well I can't get this song to erase from my mind
So I'm posting it here, anapestically sound.

Breathe

2 AM and she calls me cause I'm still awake
Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don't love him, winter just wasn't my season.
Yeah we walk through the doors so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize
Hypocrites, you're all here for the very same reason.

Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
and life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button, girl
So cradle your head in your hands.
And breathe, just breathe, whoa breathe, just breathe

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
"Just a day," he said down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year
Here in town you can tell he's been down for awhile
But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him maybe I'll just sing about it

Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button, boys
so cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe, whoa breath just breathe

There's a light at each end of this tunnel
You shout cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made
You'll just make them again if you'll only try turnin' around

2 AM and I'm still awake writing this song
If I get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me
Threatening the life it belongs to.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screamin' out aloud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to.

But you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand, yeah breathe
Just breathe, oh oh breathe, just breathe, oh breathe,
just breathe, oh breathe, just breathe

Hi Mary,

Here is another song with the same title, by the English band "Depeche Mode."

A dimeter song.


Breathe

I heard a rumour
They travel far
You know what it's like
The way people are
They talk and they talk
Though they don't understand
They'll whisper and whisper
And lie on demand
Please tell me now
I want to know
I have to hear it from your lips
Say it's not so

I heard it on Monday
And I laughed a while
I heard it on Tuesday
I managed to smile
I heard it on Wednesday
My patience was tried
I heard it on Thursday
And I hurt inside
I want to know
The depths of your mind
Tell me this whole thing is madness
And we're doing fine
Put your little hand in mine
And believe in love
Put your head on my chest
And breathe love
Breathe love
Breathe love
Breathe love

I heard it from Peter
Who heard it from Paul
Who heard it from someone
I don't know at all
I heard it from Mary
Who heard it from Ruth
Who swore on the bible
She's telling the truth
I heard it from Simon
Who heard it from James
Confirming with Sarah
That I was to blame
I heard it from Joseph
Who heard it from John
Who said with conviction
That all hope was gone
So I need to know
Your alibis
I need to hear that you love me
Before you say goodbye
Before you say goodbye
Before you say goodbye
Before you say goodbye