Incredible lyrics! (1 Viewer)

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chris d

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Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again​

Bob Dylan
Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block
I'd ask him what the matter was
But I know that he don't talk
And the ladies treat me kindly
And they furnish me with tape
But deep inside my heart
I know I can't escape
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Well, Shakespeare, he's in the alley
With his pointed shoes and his bells
Speaking to some French girl
Who says, she knows me well
And I would send a message
To find out if she's talked
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Mona tried to tell me
To stay away from the train line
She said that all the railroad men
Just drink up your blood like wine
An' I said, "Oh, I didn't know that
But then again there's only one I've met
An' he just smoked my eyelids
And punched my cigarette"
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Grandpa died last week
And now he's buried in the rocks
But everybody still talks about
How badly they were shocked
But me, I expected it to happen
I knew he'd lost control
When I speed built a fire on Main Street
And shot it full of holes
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Now, the senator came down here
Showing everyone his gun
Handing out free tickets
To the wedding of his son
An' me, I nearly got busted
An' wouldn't it be my luck
To get caught without a ticket
And be discovered beneath a truck?
Oh, Mama, is this really the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Now the T-Preacher looked so baffled
When I asked him why he dressed
With twenty pounds of headlines
Stapled to his chest
But he cursed me when I proved to him
Then I whispered and said, "Not even you can hide
You see, you're just like me
I hope you're satisfied"
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Now, the rainman gave me two cures
Then he said, "Jump right in"
The one was Texas medicine
The other was just railroad gin
An' like a fool I mixed them
An' it strangled up my mind
An' now people just get uglier
An' I have no sense of time
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
When Ruthie says, "Come see her
In her honky-tonk lagoon
Where I can watch her waltz for free
'Neath her Panamanian moon"
An' I say, "Aw, come on, now
You know you know about my debutante"
An' she says, "Your debutante just knows what you need
But I know what you want"
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?
Now, the bricks lay on Grand Street
Where the neon madmen climb
They all fall there so perfectly
It all seems so well timed
An' here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to get out of
Going through all these things twice
Oh, Mama, is this really the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?


It's a bit boring to talk about Dylan at this stage. But what a song. Christ above.
 

hiadudiad?

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Some of these songs need a tl;dr at the start, like The Lord's Prayer by Roy Harper

There once was a man from the old stone age
And he used to follow the weather
But now he's got hung up on filling a page
Upon whether to go or together
And he's been around for so damn long
With his whooping and wailing
Crushing questions between right and wrong
And impaling
The best he can hope and the worst he can fear
On the solstices of an illusion
A massive erection of pushy defence
Up the whole of the prosecution
Great solace the wound, great relish the pain
To be loosing the reins of a poem
To bleed from the tip of my tongue yet again
That part of my heart that is showing
These children conceived in the womb of this crash
To be the sponsors of nothing much more
Than rearguard directions of cross-fingered sections
Of purpose pot-looking for nothing
But what is this last desperate vestige of heart over head
But another conjecture
No more the tomb of the martyred dead
Than the ghost of our parting gesture
And a hundred billion crystal balls
Represent a remarkable failure
To swell the song each moment long
At the counterpoint of nature
As four thumbs flick the tarot deck
And two tongues fork eight aces
Maybe sixteen fingers feel
The fool lives in two places
Where rosy lee can read this tea
And leave me living the story
A white dove with a hawks' head
And an open mind before me
To sail for a land where life is a high
Not a word to be heard or be spoken
But the soul-woven web of the endless touch
Of a child who could never be broken
Who plays a new world on the brink of the ebb
As the fish cats prowl in the harbour
And now soars high on the beckoning tides' long arm
To weigh his last anchor
And the sou'westers sing as the lifeboat bells ring
In the heads on the faces of changes
The heavens collage on Excalibur's edge
The star in his movie converges
With fate, in his task, and doom on his brow
And a ship in his eye in a bottle
Who speeds, to force, to want, to have
To find, to further fortune
Who comes from the north, west, south and east
Of the passions of a spirit
With all the flight of the wildest beast
To ever spur a stirrup

Whose pulse is the master of action
Whose heart is an everlasting secret
Whose arms are desire
Whose lips are welcome
Whose eyes tell stories
Whose head is a journey
Whose hands unfold
Whose feet fly
Whose face is the stained glass window of a continuous orgasm
Whose being is mine
Whose wounds are precious
Whose poem is a flower
Whose gentleness is the devil
Whose indentity is naked
Whose magic is a gift
Whose power is the transparent tapestry of history
Whose stamp is a freak
Whose wits are battles
Whose cousin is dog
Whose times are well fought for
Whose stone age is clever
Whose poets know
Whose music is barbarian
Whose artists are helpless spherical mirrors spinning on the horns of a tidal
Wave
Whose information is belief
Whose complexes become religion
Whose foundation is spread
Whose word is god
Whose books are projectiles
Whose message is must
Whose excuse is holy
Who passed it down to me;
Whose enemies are landmarks
Whose fear is himself
Whose hope is lust
Whose wish is fresh
Whose position is wary
Whose mottoes are covers
Whose name is hidden
Whose nose is suspicious
Whose technology is a tangent
Whose strategy is dissent
Whose thoughts are games
Who shares his lot
Whose ace is death
Whose fingers invent
Whose tales weave
Whose knots are tied
Whose mouth is open
Whose ears pierce
Whose direction is out
Who is aware of disease
Who feels the need to cleanse his soul
Whose style is disguise
Whose dream is innate
Whose woman is soothing
Whose little children are the delicate blossom of an orchard of electricity
Whose spell is for conflict
Whose quest is strength
Whose war declared
Whose suicide is noticed
Whose shadow is cast
Whose vibes you feel
Whose pedigrees are haunted
Whose age is unknown
Who takes under his wing
Whose freaks are real
Whose reality is hunger
Whose words are jagged
Whose tears are shed
Whose sick hang
Whose weak are kicked
Whose cities are bad shelters
Whose sanctuary is an idea
Who sat round a fire
Whose teeth chew
Whose faith is change
Whose old age comes quickly
Whose youth burns
Whose systems are white sticks tapping walls
Whose prize possession is the planet;
Whose wildest lust is escalation
Whose cul-de-sacs are feelers
Whose main route is massive
Whose run is a dance
Whose vehicle is fantasy
Whose home is high
Whose role continues
Whose bearing is savage
Whose saints are dead
Whose sons bark
Whose daughters play
Whose strength is against
Who grows in the sun and sleeps in the moon
Who roams deserts, the plateaux, the ice-caps, the mountains, the forests and the plains with vast armies

....Who am I.....
The spirit of those who were not here
And never knew it
Who left this prayer to elope
A lover's journey through it
So children leave your windows open
Across the sea
Join your hands across the many lands
You and me
Never grown old
Seeing without ever being told
Something to say
Shut away
Blackboard so grey
Anyway
I'm dreaming
Out along the back row
Out the window
Cast away
Be free with me
Today
Great heart mean streak
Spare part speed freak
I got myself a problem when I built myself a wheel
I got myself another when I rode a horse to feel
The plains underneath my reins
As fast as running water
And the big lady I'm playing with
Has played a game of poker
With me and cat and this and that
Until she scored my joker
Now we ride in chariots
By the side of one another
Her soft side
My rough ride
Nothing to fear
The unknown soldier's grave is already here
Is it too late
To create
A world made with care
Is it there
Or fleeting
Here today and gone
Tomorrow's child
Looking so wild and free
Are we a choice
With no voice
Can it be
Great heart, mean streak
Spare part speed freak
 

Nate Champion

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Yeah, Mrs. Robert Wyatt writes some good lyrics.

Countless Smog [90s], Silverjews songs...but if you were to put the words up here detached from the music...

Townes Van Zandt could sing about taking the world's most painful dump, and make it sound like the most melancholic experience. Or it could be one of his comedy ones.

Wire...good choice to open with. Countless post-punk ones where I think, "class words" when I'm listening, but then putting them in here away from the music...
 

ann post

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I dunno dude. I dunno

Like I can read these, or listen to them, and kinda enjoy it, but like ... it neither stimulates my intellect nor touches my heart, just paints a picture of some 60s people going around being cool

I'm kinda somewhere around this with Dylan. If i never heard him again I'd be happy enough and he bleeds into a lot of western world male writers anywhooo so like the beatles you need to be proactive to widen your horizons past them. But i agree with what you are saying here. I always think about that beach boys lyricist who was like 'cars and girls sell, so thats what i wrote about' and how now it's phones and girls or boys.
The tune I posted up above caught my ear because of the reference to jericho trumpets (which were acoustic devices on nazi planes that made them sound like you think a diving plane sound) which made me go wtf am i listening to nazi rock now? and then about 4 listens later i realised the lyricist had pretty much written A: about how ambivalence leaves room for these things to grow, which was a good soundtrack to the trump violence and at the same time he robbed that famous and misquoted poem that always crops up, which i though was a stunning lyric and really self aware considering its from 2015/16, as opposed to some lad from laois getting a cordorouy jacket and guitar and moaning about a fake 60's, which is the shadow of dylan... anywhoo rambling here but like i probably shoulda had something in my other post about what i loved about them...
 

thumped

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I'm kinda somewhere around this with Dylan.
If i never heard him again I'd be happy enough
and he bleeds into a lot of western world male writers anywhooo
so like the beatles you need to be proactive
to widen your horizons past them.

But i agree with what you are saying here.
I always think about that beach boys lyricist who was like
'cars and girls sell, so thats what i wrote about'
and how now it's phones and girls or boys.

The tune I posted up above caught my ear
because of the reference to jericho trumpets
(which were acoustic devices on nazi planes that made them sound like you think a diving plane sound)
which made me go wtf
am i listening to nazi rock now?

But i agree with what you are saying here.
I always think about that beach boys lyricist who was like
'cars and girls sell, so thats what i wrote about'
and how now it's phones and girls or boys.

and then about 4 listens later i realised the lyricist had pretty much written
about how ambivalence leaves room for these things to grow,
which was a good soundtrack to the trump violence

But i agree with what you are saying here.
I always think about that beach boys lyricist who was like
'cars and girls sell, so thats what i wrote about'
and how now it's phones and girls or boys.

and at the same time he robbed that famous and misquoted poem that always crops up,
which i though was a stunning lyric and really self aware
considering its from 2015/16,
as opposed to some lad from laois getting a cordorouy jacket and guitar
and moaning about a fake 60's, which is the shadow of dylan... anywhoo

But i agree with what you are saying here.
I always think about that beach boys lyricist who was like
'cars and girls sell, so thats what i wrote about'
and how now it's phones and girls or boys.

rambling here but like i probably shoulda had something in my other post about what i loved about them...
Great lyrics right there.
 

nuke terrorist

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Fuck a War - GETO BOYS (1991) words by Bushwick Motherfucking Bill and Willie D The Gangster of Love

[Intro Skit: Army recruiter and Bushwick Bill]
Hello, could I speak with Bushwick Bill?
Hello, this is Bushwick motherfucking Bill
Yes, sir, I'm calling to inform you that you have been uh drafted into the United States military
The United States wants me for what? Hahaha
Excuse me, sir?
Hahaha, yeah, yeah, yeah, hey what's up?
You need to uh contact your nearest recruiting office immediately, please
I see you're not hip to what's happenin'
I don't give a fuck about you and all that bullshit you stressin'
Fuck a war
To explain, let me kick it to you a little something like this


[Verse 1: Bushwick Bill]
Motherfuck a war, that's how I feel
Sendin' a nigga to a desert to get killed

'Cause two suckas can't agree on something
A thousand motherfuckers dying for nothing
You can't pay me to join an army camp
Or any other motherfuckin' military branch
Of this United goddamn States of that bitch America
Be a soldier, what for?
They puttin' niggas on the front line
But when it comes to gettin' ahead, they put us way behind

I ain't gettin' my leg shot off
While Bush's old ass on TV playin' golf

But when you come to my house with that draft shit
I'ma shoot your funky ass, bitch
A nigga'll die for a broil
But I ain't fightin' behind no goddamn oil
Against motherfuckas I don't know
Yo, Bush! I ain't your damn ho
The enemy is right here G, them foreigners never did shit me
All of those wasted lives
And only one or two get recognized
But what good is a medal when you're dead?
Tell Uncle Sam I said


[Chorus: Willie D]
I ain't goin' to war for a shit talkin' president
(Fuck, fuck, fuck a war)
I ain't goin' to war for a shit talkin' president
(Fuck, fuck, fuck a war)

[Verse 2: Bushwick Bill]
In Vietnam a lot of niggas died young
P.O.W.'s got hung
What the fuck do I know about a grenade
All I know is the couch and my 12 gauge
And what if that pin gets stuck?
Several more casualties show up
This shit remind me of a drive-by
More motherfuckers die by accident than on purpose, why?
'Cause they don't know what they doin'
They see if the coast is clear and they start pursuin'
And that's when that booby trap springs, boom!
Blow a motherfucker to smithereens

They send a sucker to your folks, lookin' stupid
Tellin' them you died in the line of duty
Or your ass is missing in action bro
Tryin' to be a damn hero
They bring your folks that duffel bag
The only shit they wanna see is that doggy tag
Hopin' that the worryin' will cease
And your ass will still be in one damn piece
But my mom ain't gotta worry about that there
'Cause I ain't dyin' in the middle of nowhere
Another statistic, a body in a drawer
Man! motherfuck a war!


{Chorus: Willie D]
I ain't goin' to war for a shit talkin' president
(Fuck, fuck, fuck a war)
I ain't goin' to war for a shit talkin' president
(Fuck, fuck, fuck a war)

[Verse 3: Bushwick Bill]
You're lucky that I ain't the president
'Cause I'll push the fuckin' button and get it over with

Fuck all that waitin' and procrastinatin'
And all that goddamn negotiatin'

Flyin' back and forth overseas
And havin' lunch and brunch with the motherfuckin' enemy

I'll aim one missile at Iraq
And blow that little piece of shit off the map

Yeah, I wouldn't give a fuck who dies
'Cause I'm tired of payin' these high ass gas prices
Only the rich benefit, it'll be a cold day in Hell before I enlist
To eat shit out a can like a worm
And everyday wear the same fucking uniform
Sores breakin' on my funky ass feet
Skin crawlin' 'cause I ain't took baths in weeks
Not knowin' if I'm comin' home or not
And if I do, I'll probably be shell-shocked
I couldn't get a job, just a free burial
You know how Uncle Sam treat its veterans
Absolutely no respect
Get a plate in your head, lose a leg, you might get a check
Or a goddamn star, you can have that shit
Motherfuck a war!


[Chorus: Willie D]
I ain't goin' to war for a shit talkin' president
(Fuck, fuck, fuck a war)
I ain't goin' to war for a shit talkin' president
(Fuck, fuck, fuck a war)
 

GO

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Townes Van Zandt could sing about taking the world's most painful dump, and make it sound like the most melancholic experience. Or it could be one of his comedy ones.

Pancho And Lefty​

Townes Van Zandt

Living on the road my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean
And now you wear your skin like iron
And your breath as hard as kerosene
Weren't your mama's only boy
But her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
And sank into your dreams
Pancho was a bandit boy
His horse was fast as polished steel
He wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Pancho met his match you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dying words
Ah but that's the way it goes
All the Federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness, I suppose
Lefty, he can't sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty's mouth
The day they laid poor Pancho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain't nobody knows
All the Federales say
They could have had him any day
We only let him slip away
Out of kindness, I suppose
The poets tell how Pancho fell
And Lefty's living in cheap hotels
The desert's quiet, Cleveland's cold
And so the story ends we're told
Pancho needs your prayers it's true
But save a few for Lefty too
He only did what he had to do
And now he's growing old
All the Federales say
We could have had him any day
We only let him go so long
Out of kindness, I suppose
A few gray Federales say
We could have had him any day
We only let him go so long
Out of kindness, I suppose

 

Lili Marlene

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I'm still very concerned about the use of the word incredible tbh folks.

credible lyrics would be believable, maybe like that bob dylan novel up there or something that really resonates with life.

incredible lyrics would be more in the marina i.e. 'one cannot believe how shit this is'.

I have the same reaction when people in galway say (100s of time's a day) that something is unreal, or unbelievable.

Carry on, knowing that we are all partaking in crimes against etymology if ye must.
More "descriptions are usually descriptive" from the "I don't use context to understand situations" faction on thumped.

you-are-technically-correct-the-best-kind-of-correct-quickmeme-com-39027591.png
 

thumped

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is this the Inedible Lyrics thread?

The sexual politics of meat x3

Eating animals acts as mirror and representation of patriarchal values
Meat eating is the re-inscription of male power at every meal
The patriarchal gaze sees not the fragment of flesh of dead animals but appetising food
Vegetarian activities counter patriarchal consumption and challenge the consumption of death
feminist vegetarian activities declares that an alternative world view exists
one which celebrates life rather than consuming death
one which does not rely on resurrected animals but empowered people

if meat is the symbol of male dominance, then the presence of meat proclaims the disempowering of women

It takes the notion of objectification one step further
not only have we objectified the animals, but in objectifying them
We take what we want from them and leave the rest out
We leave their death out and then take their bodies
We leave the images of their death out but take the meaning of meat and apply it to women

The sexual politics of meat x3

We need not choose one liberation cause or the other
Women's rights and animal rights suffer a common oppression: the patriarchal world
Male dominance attacks feminism. they say we are bra burners, they say we are house wreckers
They say we are man haters

Human dominance affects animal rights
They say we are terrorists
They say we are people haters.

The sexual politics of meat x5


 

magicbastarder

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'the mercy seat' would be one of my automatic go-tos on lyric writing.

I hear stories from the chamber
How Christ was born into a manger
And like some ragged stranger
He died upon the cross
And might I say, it seems so fitting in its way
He was a carpenter by trade
Or at least that's what I'm told
 

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