Poetry in Music / Top-tier Lyrics

A little something from Leonard Cohen. This was playing on the record player back when I was breaking up with the love of my life. We were both crying because we knew it was finally over...https://genius.com/amp/Leonard-cohen...arianne-lyrics
https://songmeanings.com/m/songs/view/74406/
Leonard Cohen - So Long, Marianne Lyrics | SongMeanings

Sent from my Redmi Note 7 via Tapatalk

https://genius.com/amp/Leonard-cohen...arianne-lyrics
Leonard Cohen – So Long, Marianne Lyrics | Genius
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/leon...gmarianne.html
Leonard Cohen - So Long Marianne Lyrics | AZLyrics

Posted from my Redmi Note 7 using Tapatalk

I’ve seen people on this forum mention a few times now that they just don't care about lyrics in music. Like one old-school regular—shout out to him, wherever you are, if you're reading this—once put it perfectly, to paraphrase... if the melody sounds good to the ear, the lyrics could be about washing laundry for all it matters. Honestly, I couldn't disagree more. Not even by 0.1%... not even a fraction of a percent. For me, the lyrics are absolutely vital. That doesn't mean you can't find absolute masterpieces in instrumental tracks, of course, but it’s the words that, when paired with the melody, "puts shakes into my soul," as Peter Hammill would say in one of his equally phenomenal, lyrically dense songs.

And that’s exactly why I’m leaving here one such simple, raw—maybe even primitive, if I'm being honest—lyric, but one that is incredibly emotionally charged, which I experienced for the first time right here on this forum. I can't quite recall who posted it, but thanks again. Perhaps it'll leave a deep impression on someone else too... 🙂

Arab Strap - New birds

You just have to be sure you're doing the right thing. I mean, it's so easy to lose track—she's just sitting there in the pub with her new crowd, her new life, and her new hair. Even if it's been five years, you'd know just by looking at her.

I wasn't even certain it was her at first; I was almost ready to just turn around and walk away, but then she smiled and waved me over, and we chatted for a bit. Once we got back to our respective tables, we both tried so hard not to keep glancing at each other, telling our friends to quit staring. I didn't see her again for the rest of the evening, but by the time the bar was closing and the drinks had finally kicked in, I went up to talk to her. We ended up taking a walk, just talking about our new places, our new jobs, our new friends, and our new birds.

She mentioned she’s been seeing him for about two and a half years now, but they don't live together, so he'd never catch on. And you find yourself thinking back to chasing her after school when you were kids, lying in bed listening to love songs and pretending they were all about you. The first time you asked her out, she said no. But then one night, you went to a wedding, and by the time you hit the pub afterward, she’d changed her mind and you finally went out. You still remember how she used to swing her arms when she held your hand, but you can't quite recall how she kissed... and now, suddenly, you have the chance to find out.

But you have to keep in mind there's this other kiss. She’s back at her place, wondering where you are and what you're up to. And you worked so hard on *this* kiss. You know it inside and out; it belongs to you as much as it belongs to her. It took forever to get it right—months of practicing and months of feeling awkward—but now you've finally perfected it, and you've been looking forward to this moment all week.

You can actually see her breath in the air between your faces as you stand among the fallen leaves, and she just asks you point-blank if you want to come back to her apartment. But you make sure to call separate Ubers, and you head home. There might be a tiny flicker of regret, a thought of wondering what you might have missed... but you have to remember that kiss you worked so hard on. And you'll know you did the right thing.

Casey Flores said:Arab Strap - New birds

Killer lyrics!

.....

It’s a pretty political, raw piece from Damir Avdić. A lot packed into such short lines, I guess. Brutal poetry paired with brutal music.

Damir Avdić grah - Catalonia Sparta

My name is Rodrigo. Rodrigo Penera. Catalonia lives in my heart. Back when bombers were rushing through Spanish skies to deliver democracy to the weeds in Baghdad, there was cash to go around. Cheap hash. Music, dancing, bullfights.

But the cash is gone. Angela won't let us have it. Old Merkel isn't giving out freebies anymore. She wants us working for those old machines. But we’re proud kids. Conquerors. We baptized half the world. We crushed the Mayans and the Incas. No one is putting us back in factories!

No one!

I studied for years at prestigious spots: Barcelona, Paris, London, Brisbane, San Francisco, Boston, Montreal, L.A. No one’s hiring me for those old machines. Let the immigrant kids do it.

Yeah, right. It's over, Rodrigo.

My name is Konstantin. Konstantin Kakis. Athens is the birthplace of me and my brother. Both of us are out here on the streets, at the barricades. Today it’s Greece burning, tomorrow it’s the whole planet. When there was money, we danced and sang. An orchestra played for our weddings and funerals.

But the cash is gone. Angela won't let us have it. Old Merkel isn't giving out freebies anymore. She wants us working for those old machines. But we’re proud kids, descendants of Sparta and Alexander. We burned everything from Mexico to Asia. There were three hundred of us against all of Persia. No one is putting us back in factories. Let the immigrant kids do it.

Oh, my Konstantin.

My name is Gypsy. When Sarkozy hates me, it’s fascism. When you hate me, it’s just fine. You make your money off my songs while giving my kids nothing but scraps. May my sons be your sons-in-law, and my daughters give birth to your descendants.

Nina Inch Nails - Right Where It Belongs



see The animal in his Caga that you built ara you sur What side you're on

see The safety of The Life you have built Everything where IT belongs Feel The hollowness inside of Your Heart and it's All right where IT belongs

[Chorus:]

What if All The World you think you know

Is an elaborat dream

What if All the world's inside of Your Head Just creations of Your own

[Chorus:]

What if All The World you think you know

Is an elaborat dream

A little something for the music lovers out there! 👍

I’ll kick things off with the heavy hitters—the "usual suspects." 😁

Dead Can Dance - Indoctrination (A Design For Living) (1985)

In times of great vexation,
When one must choose between what's right and wrong.

Freedom, so they say,
Amounts to the choices you have made
Through all the arbitrary rationale concerning liberty.

Freedom, I must say,
Exists within unconditioned minds.

Reason has come of age.

How can you be satisfied with things the way they are,
When all that surrounds us now, and so much more,
Remains inside the keeper's dark embrace?

The insatiable thirst for power has made
Idols out of mortals, gods into clay,
Soldiers into heroes, children into slaves,

All damned.

Desires,
Their hopes betrayed.

Who will suffer the laws
That State can decide your child's education
Unless you pay the price?

Who will suffer their laws?
Who will suffer their minds?
Who will suffer their words?
Who will suffer their designs?
Who will suffer their laws?
Who will suffer their minds?
Who will suffer their words?
Who will suffer their designs?

Dead Can Dance - Severance (1988)

Severance,

The birds of leaving call to us,

Yet here we stand
Endowed with the fear of flight.

Overland

The winds of change consume the land,

While we remain
In the shadow of summers now past.

When all the leaves
Have fallen and turned to dust,

Will we remain
Entrenched within our ways.

Indifference,

The plague that moves throughout this land

Omen signs
In the shapes of things to come.

Tomorrow's child is the only child.

Man, Brendan Perry 👍

Let’s dive into something similar—same vibe, just a bit more recent.

Dead Can Dance - Amnesia

(Anastasis - 2012)

Saw the demonstration
On remembrance day
Lest we forget the lesson
Enshrined in funeral clay
History is never written
By those who've lost
The defeated must bear witness to
Our collective memory loss

With every generation comes
Another memory lapse
See the demonstrations of
Failing to learn from our past
We live in the dream time
Nothing seems to last
Can you really plan a future
When you no longer have a past

Memories fall from the trees
Amnesia
Memories like autumn leaves

If we are subject to
Empirical minds
I wonder what lies beyond
Our memory's confines
If memory is the true
Sum of who we are
May your children know the truth
And shine like the brightest star

Memory, help me see
Amnesia
Memory, set me free

All my love and all my kisses
Sweet Mnemosyne
All my love and all my kisses
Sweet Mnemosyne
Sweet Mnemosyne

Casey Flores said:And that’s exactly why I’m going to leave one that's just simple, raw—let's call it primitive—but incredibly emotionally charged, which is the first time I've truly felt that on this forum. I can't quite remember everyone's names anymore, but thanks again. Maybe this might leave a deep impression on someone else, too. 🙂

Arab Strap - New birds

I actually just linked them somewhere recently—Arab Strap is always so wonderful. Their lyrics are just beautiful; such a simple, raw, and relatable story. 🙂

Casey Flores said:For me, lyrics are absolutely vital. I mean, sure, you can find magic in purely instrumental music, but it’s the words paired with the melody that really shake your soul, just like Peter Hammill says in one of his incredibly powerful songs.

signature.

I also think Hammill is such a rare breed—someone who could probably take instructions from a washing machine or a phone book and turn them into something simple yet miraculous.
Along with 'too many of my yesterdays,' I’d easily throw in 'shingle' and 'in the black room/tower' (that final breath from VDGG), plus the whole 'Over' album. ♡

Because of what you wrote, I’m actually going to have to check out Arab Strap. I’ve never listened to them, not even intentionally. Honestly, just reading the lyrics was intense enough.

Ashley Grant66 said:I actually shared a link to them recently... Arab Strap is always so wonderful, and the lyrics are just stunning. Such a simple, raw, and visceral story. 🙂

Yeah, I think that’s probably why they leave such a lasting impression on everyone.

Lisa Davis46 said:Because of your post, I feel like I really need to check out Arab Strap. I haven't ever listened to them properly, or even consciously heard anything by them... honestly, just reading the lyrics was such a trip.

Honestly, paired with his delivery and that Scottish accent, the lyrics are pure genius... yet so incredibly straightforward. 😁

If you're going to dive into Arab Strap (by the way, just Google the band name to see what they're actually about 🤣), I'd highly recommend this one too. It’s a bit different, but just as heavy-hitting:

The Girl I Loved Before I Fucked

I can't even escape you in my sleep when all I need is rest
Knowing when I wake up I can't watch you get dressed
And pretend I'm sleeping and imagine you with child
A suggestion often made by me and by you always reviled
I wanted to watch your body change and loosen all your clothes
To hold a new-born baby with your eyes and my nose

I suppose that was the first sign
That you never really were mine

My twisted spine is aching now this bed's got so much space
In direct contrast to my mind which is cluttered with your face
You're the girl I loved before I fucked and that's so rare
So I'll help you leave your home while you decide if you still care

I really thought we never could end
Or at least I'd always be your good friend
But then I think about what you've done
And his tongue pressed against your tongue
Your bodies together in our bed
His cock in your cunt, his cock in your head
And instead of a new platonic future for you and me
I hope you get an abortion or at least an STD

When out with married friends I sat with them on the bus
I watched the way they were and that could never have been us
So the girl I loved before I fucked you'll always be
But the woman you've grown into is no woman for me

Casey Flores said:Honestly, I wouldn't agree with that at all... not even by a fraction of a percent, let alone a tiny little sliver.

Just had to fix that typo... it was honestly driving me crazy.

Oh man, 😁The Girl I Loved
—it’s brutal and raw, but honestly, sometimes you have to dig deep into all that messy emotion just to write something like this.
(I’ve always had a soft spot for The First Big Weekend—they just have this way of making me think of summer, being young, and those sweet little worries... it's all so charmingly packaged.)

Let's steer clear of Arab Strap for a second... speaking of the topic, there are just too many songs to pick from, but I mentioned Running by the great Gil Scott-Heron recently, so let's bring him into the mix here:

Quote: Because I'm not going to tell you now

Because I always feel like running Not away, because there is no such place Because if there was I would have found it by now Because it's easier to run Easier than staying and finding out you're the only one Who didn't run Because running will be the way your life and mine Will be described As in "the long run" Or as in having given someone a "run for his money" Or as in "running out of time" Because running makes me look like everyone else Though I hope there will never be cause for that Because I will be running in the other direction Not running for cover Because if I knew where cover was I would stay there and never have to run for it Not running for my life Because I have to be running for something of more value To be running and not in fear Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped Eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from Not without showing the fear as I see it now Because closer, clearer, no sir, nearer Because of you and because of that nice That you quietly, quickly be causing And because you're going to see me run soon And because you're going to know why I'm running then You'll know then

Lisa Davis46 said:Signed.

I honestly feel like Peter Hammill is one of those rare gems who could probably take a washing machine manual or a random phone book and turn it into something absolutely magical.
Along with 'too many of my yesterdays,' I’d easily toss in 'shingle' and 'in the black room/tower' (that final breath from VDGG), not to mention the entire 'Over' album. ♡.

Finally! Kudos to you.👍
This is actually the first time I've seen anyone on this forum mention loving the 'Over' album.🙂

For me, 'And Close As This' is also just outstanding.

@granitecyclist/">@@granitecyclist, 'Over' is definitely one of my all-time favorites.
But I have to admit, I haven't even come close to covering his entire discography yet. He’s hyper-productive, so there’s just so much material that you kind of have to pick a specific sequence to dive in, even though most of what he’s put out is excellent. I’m really into those early solo albums that still carry that Van der Graaf spirit—especially 'Chameleon in the Shadows of the Night'—but 'Fools Mate' is also great because of those beautiful shared moments between Fripp and Peter Hammill. + + + It’s honestly cool to see him still churning out such high-quality albums after all these years, and performing these lovely, intimate shows. I’d love to catch him live, just once, if the opportunity pops up soon...

@Casey Flores/">@@Casey Flores, I gave it a listen and I really like it. Though, if I'm being honest, the second song mentioned is way better lyrically than it is musically. I was expecting a bit more energy in the delivery, not so lazy, although I guess that might be intentional. But 'New Birds' is just beautiful in every sense. 'First Big Weekend,' which Ashley Grant66 linked, is interesting too.

For some reason, those three songs together really reminded me of Tindersticks. Stuart A. Staples is one of my favorite songwriters; his voice is something I can listen to anytime, regardless of whatever musical landscape he's working in. And man, does he have a massive repertoire—everything from Tindersticks and solo stuff to all those soundtracks for director Claire Denis... His lyrics are always so sensitive, tactile, and raw—you can practically feel the emotions—often standing in sharp contrast to the music holding them together.
'New Birds' actually reminded me of a younger phase and a track from 'The Something Rain,' though it’s David Boulter singing on that one instead of Stuart. Still, the lyrics are incredibly clever, cinematic, and unpredictable. It felt like a fitting, cheeky provocation for a sleepy Friday afternoon:

'Chocolate'

It had been the perfect Friday afternoon,
the job was almost done.
The house we were decorating was owned by a little old man,
always in the same three-piece suit he'd probably had since he left the service.
He seemed to be forever on his way to the post office,
carrying brown paper and string-wrapped parcels under his arm.
He'd bring us out china cups of cheap coffee and plates of custard cream biscuits.
The house had belonged to his parents, who both passed away within weeks of each other a few years back.
They were the only people he had ever lived with; this was the only house he had ever known.
I wondered what would happen to the house once he's gone.

It was a short walk to my studio apartment, which used to be a house similar to the old man's but was now split into a bunch of single rooms.
It also used to have a great garden like his, but now it's taken over by a one-story modern block housing a dentist and a podiatrist.

In my room was an electric stove, which I only used in the winter to keep warm,
next to that was a sink with a glass shelf above it, holding a toothbrush and a pack of Marlboros.
There was a table with a chair in one corner, a single bed in the other, and maybe four square feet of space in the middle.
There was a wooden drawer under the bed with most of my clothes, and the rest was tossed over the back of the chair.
I had a record player on a table with boxes of vinyl underneath.
The bathroom for the first and second floors was directly opposite my room,
The shower had this water meter that required two quarters, and you’d have to kill half an hour just waiting for the water to get warm. Plus, you had to keep an eye on the door so some jerk wouldn't sneak in and steal your bath.
There was one bathroom upstairs and one outside, but nobody really used the outdoor one anymore, so that's basically where the local hookers would take their clients for a quick session.
I tried to spend as little time in my room as possible; my skin still felt warm and soft from the shower as I headed into town.

By 6:30, I was already perched on my usual stool at my neighborhood pub. The usual crowd of about twelve regulars was there, just chilling before the post-8:00 rush hits. Once it gets busy, everyone crowds around the tiny bar and the pool tables. The house rule for pool is simple: winner stays on. You write your name on the chalkboard and wait. The challenger pays for the game, so if you're actually good, you can play all night. Well, tonight, I was killing it.
She strolled into the pool room just as I sank the black ball. She was next on the list, so she leaned down toward the table slot and dropped in some coins.
I was used to seeing her surrounded by that burgundy flocked wallpaper and red velvet seating at the Sunday night lounge around the corner, but she looked different standing here in the pool room. She looked good. And she was looking right at me.
I finished the game as fast as I could without looking like a total loser and moved toward her.
"Want a drink?" she asked. "I'll grab them. What are you having?" I asked. "Whatever you're having," she said.
The best part about being a regular when the bars start getting rowdy is that all you need is a raised eyebrow and a couple of nods. Two bottles of Budweiser were practically tossed over people's heads straight to our table. We did the whole "pool room dance" for a bit, dodging elbows and cue sticks with a few "excuse me's" until we decided to head out.
It was way too early for the club, so we ducked around the corner to that Sunday night lounge. Even on a Friday, it was pretty packed with couples and college kids. It has a reputation as a gay bar, which is probably why the students hang out there—they feel safe.
She was my absolute dream. We sipped on Pernod and Coke, talking about John Barry and old Ford Mustangs (she was a fan of the classic models). We debated the essentials: hair gel or Brylcream? I went with the Brylcream.
She even admitted *On Her Majesty's Secret Service* is the best Bond flick, provided you look at it as a complete movie and don't get weirdly hung up on George Lazenby.
She smoked Silk Cuts, didn't mind Marlboros, but we both had a soft spot for Old Port cigars.
We eventually migrated down to the club. We headed upstairs for some onion bhajis near the quiet bar by the dance floor.
We decided to bail early. You don't want to be there when the lights come on; it ruins everything. You'd never want to sit in a place like that again. We shuffled toward the exit in this depressing sort of way, but honestly, it was good to get out while the place still felt like a warm, smoky black hole full of possibilities.

She lives over by the river on the other side of town. Waiting for a cab was a nightmare, as usual, right next to that late-night greasy spoon—worst fries you'll ever eat, but it's packed at this hour. People fighting outside, people puking... you name it. We finally jumped in a taxi, and suddenly, nothing else mattered but us.
Back at her place—a studio apartment in a building similar to mine—she’d clearly put some work into it. She’d painted three walls, put up some retro fifties star wallpaper, a huge Bowie poster, and some nice curtains. It would have been easy for me to upgrade my basic, beige woodchip studio. I mean, it's my job. She had a few lamps scattered around and some candles lit. She made us actual hot chocolate, not that instant garbage you get from a vending machine. She even had some Fox's biscuits and a small bottle of Cointreau. It was the perfect end to the day. Between the taste of chocolate, cigarettes, and orange liqueur, everything felt even better. I undid her tartan miniskirt, pulled off her black wool tights, and my lips moved up her legs... Wait, what the hell? I had a massive, hard dick poking me in the eye. "Shit! You're a guy!" I thought. I felt like jumping out the window or just screaming. I couldn't move...
She... he... hadn't changed one bit... My head was pounding, and I just felt this desperate urge to act, to say something...
He was holding onto me, just breaking down... "You had to have known, how could you keep this from me?" and "I love you, I'll be whatever you need..." Those eyes were still stunning—deep brown—and his lips still had that rich, warm color.
"Dammit!" I blurted out, "I was never really into breasts, anyway..."

+
Anyway, let me get back to those broken albums and songs...
Here's one of my favorites, straight from Štulić's heart and soul:

'Another Night In'

ps
arabstrapsticks. 😁

Something's been bugging me, I guess. Something about the lyrics to 'New birds' kept popping into my head.
I played 'Curtains' a few times today, so I'll just quote the endings of both songs,
The similarities and overlaps hit you immediately—both in the lyrics and the sound, I think...
(though during that second instrumental part, Arab Strap sounds a bit like Slint):

'Ballad of Tindersticks', Curtains, 1997

A walk to the bar and there's as much screw-top
champagne as we can drink
We're so easy
(...)
No one seems to notice
I find a table, champagne arrives
I've been so drunk, I sit and look at you
We try and talk for the first time in a long time

Drunken confession
You shiver, it made you feel sick
WE Use The rent money to pay The Bill Bumping shoulders
soha Slipping over The sleeping bags Shouting for taxis ' New birds

'New Birds', Philophobia, 1998

I wasn't even sure it were her at first
I was ready to walk away but she smiled
And called me over and we said hello for a bit
When we back to our tables
(...)
You can see her breath in the air
Between your faces as you stand in the leaves
And she just asks you straight out
If you want to come and stay at her flat

But you make sure you get separate taxis
And you go home and there might be a slight regret
And you might wonder what you missed
But you have to remember the kiss you worked so hard on
And you'll know you've done the right thing

So, who inspired whom? Maybe it doesn't even matter.
Both are great, but a resemblance like this can't just be a coincidence, I mean.

'Curtains' was actually a huge, influential album back in the day...
😁

2Pac - Trapped - released in 1991. Still hits hard today, almost twenty years later.

You know they got me trapped in this prison of seclusion
Happiness, living on the streets is a delusion
Even a smooth criminal one day must get caught
Shot up or shot down with the bullet that he bought
Nine millimeter kickin' thinking about what the streets do to me

'Cause they never talk peace in the black community
All we know is violence, do the job in silence
Walk the city streets like a rat pack of tyrants
Too many brothers daily heading for the big pen
Niggas commin' out worse off then when they went in
Over the years I done a lot of growin' up
Gettin' drunk thrown' up
Cuffed up
Then I said I had enough
There must be another route, way out
To money and fame, I changed my name
And played a different game
Tired of being trapped in this vicious cycle
If one more cop harassed me I just might go psycho
And when I get 'em
I'll hit 'em with the bum rush
Only a lunatic would like to see his skull crushed
Yo, if your smart you'll really let me go 'G'
But keep me cooped up in this ghetto and catch the Uzi
They got me trapped

[Chorus]
(Uh uh, they can't keep the black man down)
They got me trapped
(Naw, they can't keep the black man down)
Trapped
(Uh uh, they can't keep the black man down)
Trapped
(Naw, they can't keep the black man down)

They got me trapped
Can barely walk the city streets
Without a cop harassing me, searching me
Then asking my identity
Hands up, throw me up against the wall
Didn't do a thing at all
I'm tellin' you one day these suckers gotta fall
Cuffed up throw me on the concrete
Coppers try to kill me
But they didn't know this was the wrong street
Bang bang, down another casualty
But it's a cop who's shot there's brutality
Who do you blame?
It's a shame because the mans slain
He got caught in the chains of his own game
How can I feel guilty after all the things they did to me
Sweated me, hunted me
Trapped in my own community
One day I'm gonna bust
Blow up on this society
Why did ya lie to me ?
I couldn't find a trace of equality
Work me like a slave while they laid back
Homie don't play that
It's time I lett 'em suffer the payback
I'm tryin' to avoid physical contact
I can't hold back, it's time to attack jack
They got me trapped

[Chorus]

(Uh uh, they can't keep the black man down)
You know they got me trapped
(Naw, they can't keep the black man down)
Trapped
(uh uh, they can't keep the black man down)
You know they got me trapped
(Naw, they can't keep the black man down)

Now I'm trapped and want to find a getaway
All I need is a 'G' and somewhere safe to stay
Can't use the phone
'Cause I'm sure someone is tappin' in
Did it before
Ain't scared to use my gat again
I look back in hindsight the fight was irrelevant
But now he's the devils friend
Too late to be tellin' him
He shot first and I'll be damned if I run away
Homie is done away I should of put my gun away
I wasn't thinkin' all I heard was the ridicule
Girlies was laughin', Tup sayin' "Damn homies is dissin' you"
I fired my weapon
Started steppin' in the hurricane
I got shot so I dropped
Feelin' a burst of pain
Got to my feet
Nothing but red everywhere. Just blood.
Maybe now I'm just another fugitive on the run, hunted like some killer.
Cut through an alleyway.
Searching for an exit. I guess.
The cops shouted to freeze or they’d shoot. Dead on sight.
Cornered.
It was dark. No light at all.
My mind kept racing—thinking about the gun and just wanting a better life.
What's left to do?
Rot in a federal penitentiary.
I'd honestly rather die than live in a cage like that.
They've got me pinned.

[Chorus]

(Uh uh, they can't keep an American man down)
They've got me trapped.
(Naw, they can't keep an American man down)
Trapped.
(uh uh, they can't keep an American man down)
They really have me trapped.
(Naw, they can't keep an American man down)
Trapped.