The Good Lyrics Thread

[The Duke of Ingmar]

Hittin the bottle again
Waylon Jennings

Well I don't know who or where I am
I don't know who do give a damn
It's a hell of a mess that iIve got me in
Hittin' the bottle again


I can't walk so I can't go home
No need to talk cause I'm alone
If I stay here they're gonna lock me in
Hittin' the bottle again

Chorus:
Hittin' the bottle again
Ever than I've drunker been
Or is it drunker than I've ever been
Hittin' the bottle again

Verse 3:
Well I tried to quit for a wife of mine
I tried to quit but I changed my mind
Every once in awhile and a now and a then
Hittin' the bottle again

[Guest]

Elvis Costello's always good for lyrics.
Personally love 'God's comic' for both the lyrics and the music.

wish you'd known me when I was alive, I was a funny feller
The crowd would hoot and holler for more
I wore a drunk's red nose for applause
Oh yes I was a comical priest
"With a joke for the flock and a hand up your fleece"
Drooling the drink and the lipstick and greasepaint
Down the cardboard front of my dirty dog-collar

Chorus:

Now I'm dead, now I'm dead, now I'm dead,
now I'm dead, now I'm dead
And I'm going on to meet my reward
I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared
He might have never heard God's Comic

So there he was on a water-bed
Drinking a cola of a mystery brand
Reading an airport novelette, listening to Andrew Lloyd-Webber's "Requiem"
He said, before it had really begun, "I prefer the one about my son"
"I've been wading through all this unbelievable
junk and wondering if I should have given
the world to the monkeys"

Chorus

I'm going to take a little trip down Paradise's endless shores
They say that travel broadens the mind, 'til you can't get your head out of doors

I'm sitting here on the top of the world
I hang around in the longest night
Until each beast has gone bed and then I say
"God bless" and turn out the light
While you lie in the dark, afraid to breathe and you beg and you promise
And you bargain and you plead
Sometimes you confuse me with Santa Claus
It's the big white beard I suppose
I'm going up to the pole, where you folks die of cold
I might be gone for a while if you need me

Now I'm dead, now I'm dead, now I'm dead,
now I'm dead, now I'm dead and you're all
going on to meet your reward

Are you scared? Are you scared? Are you scared?
Are you scared?
You might have never heard, but God's comic



Tramp the dirt down is also a great song with some lyrical bite in it, if you're sick of American Power pop songs that make vague refferences to President Bush because they're jumping on the bandwagon then you ought to listen to this I think it was banned, like Birmingham six/streets of sorrow they were around about the same time as well, it's directed at Maggie Thatcher.


I saw a newspaper picture from the political campaign
A woman was kissing a child, who was obviously in pain
She spills with compassion, as that young child's
face in her hands she grips
Can you imagine all that greed and avarice
coming down on that child's lips

Well I hope I don't die too soon
I pray the Lord my soul to save
Oh I'll be a good boy, I'm trying so hard to behave
Because there's one thing I know, I'd like to live
long enough to savour
That's when they finally put you in the ground
I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down

When England was the whore of the world
Margaret was her madam
And the future looked as bright and as clear as
the black tarmacadam
Well I hope that she sleeps well at night, isn't
haunted by every tiny detail
'Cos when she held that lovely face in her hands
all she thought of was betrayal

And now the cynical ones say that it all ends the same in the long run
Try telling that to the desperate father who just squeezed the life from his
only son
And how it's only voices in your head and dreams you never dreamt
Try telling him the subtle difference between justice and contempt
Try telling me she isn't angry with this pitiful discontent
When they flaunt it in your face as you line up for punishment
And then expect you to say "Thank you" straighten up, look proud and pleased
Because you've only got the symptoms, you haven't got the whole disease
Just like a schoolboy, whose head's like a tin-can
filled up with dreams then poured down the drain
Try telling that to the boys on both sides, being blown to bits or beaten and
maimed
Who takes all the glory and none of the shame

Well I hope you live long now, I pray the Lord your soul to keep
I think I'll be going before we fold our arms and start to weep
I never thought for a moment that human life could be so cheap
'Cos when they finally put you in the ground
They'll stand there laughing and tramp the dirt down

[The Duke of Ingmar]

I´d rather have a bottle in front of me (than a full frontal lobotomy)
Randy Hanzlick M.D.

Jimmy and I were brothers.
We went down different paths.
Jimmy always listened to my mother,
And me, I never like to take a bath.

As we grew and tumbled through adulthood
The pressure caused emotional drain.
So now I'm slowly dying in the bottle
and Jimmy has to live with half a brain.

Yes, me, I've got a bottle in front of me,
And Jimmy has a frontal lobotomy.
Just different ways to kill the pain the same.
But I'd rather have a bottle in front of me,
Than have to have a frontal lobotomy.
I might be drunk, but at least I'm not insane.

Jimmy let his troubles drive him crazy.
He never tried to drown it in a drink.
I know that drinking makes my thinking hazy,
But at least I still have brains enough to think.

Jimmy's got a brain that isn't stable.
He doesn't have the sense to say his name.
I'm sorry that his doctor was unable
To remove the proper portion of his brain.

Yes, me, I've got a bottle in front of me …

Funny how the world works.
People can be real jerks.
Some prefer the tension over booze.

Either way it ends the same.
Hard to beat the living game.
Might as well enjoy it while you lose.

When I need a drink I start to shiver
And Jimmy always viewed it with concern.
But I'd rather have cirrhosis of the liver
Than an intellect that's second to a fern.

I wonder if old Jimmy's gonna hear it
When I tell him that his logic wasn't sound.
They'll dose him up on lots of evil spirits
When they take him to the psychiatric grounds.

Yes, me, I've got a bottle in front of me …

[Gurrier]

Gladstone Pier - Redgum

He was a sailor
Swarthy lean and proud
He could take a schooner through a big sea swell
Aloof in the mainland crowd

She loved his quiet laughter
Like a boy he'd shrug and grin
Beach stretched wide at Port Mackay
With dreams upon the wind

He wore her name in a rose tattoo
Long weekends of gins and lime
She lived in Cairns made plans to move
Checkout girl part-time
And rumour said there's a boom ahead
You can make your future here
By the Gladstone pier

A two roomed five row shelter
Empty hopes, the damp, the flies
Prices hyped her face grew tight
And conversation died

And the foreman at the smelter said you're much too old
Try the cane fields furthers north
And the clerk at the market said we don't buy trouble
There's a strike down at the port

Then a six-day shift in a filthy pit
The drag lines gouging cold
The black dust gnaws at your lungs and pores
And anger rots your soul
And the queue round the block waits for you to drop
Can you take it for another year
By the Gladstone Pier

Every Sunday he'd walk alone
Casting pebbles at the passing waves
Plunge in brine cleanse his pride
A stronger man remains

The growing ship shale and distant sails
Ached within his bones
And ships upon the tide
Bound for ports unknown


Soon he drank for comfort
She grew bitter in the weeks between
The nights of beer and hollow cheer
And love became routine

They fought, she left him crying
Angry words in a last café
In desperation on a lonely night
She took the bus to Cairns next day

And Gladstone couples break that way
Mutual blame and no regrets
And boomtown blues just fade to grey
And all that's left to debt she cried:
"I've got to leave this dirty old town
The rattle of broken men
And break these chains and wash the pain
And put to sea again
Drained all my passion my anger and my fears
And sank them in a flagon
and the Gladstone pier"

She saw him through the Greyhound window
As the dawn glowed on the chrome
Standing by the pier under sullen skies
Sea winds calling home

From surfers up to Townsville
Past the high-rise colonies
Fast food, cheap hotels
Two more boom-town refugees

[CraigBatty]

One of my favourite Redgum numbers. Cheers Gurrier.

[Gurrier]

No wuckers! I need to get all of their albums on vinyl since they didn't release all of them on CD I reckon. I wouldn't mind ripping them from vinyl to cd so I could listen to them conveniently. You don't happen to have them do you Fintan and I could do you a set of copies as well?

[CraigBatty]

I wish, cobber. I used to have several of them, but 'sic transit gloria mundi'..... Good hunting, and let me know if ye've any luck...

[Clash Cadillac]

James McMurtry - Choctaw Bingo

Strap them kids in
Give 'em a little bit of vodka in a cherry coke
We're going to Oklahoma to the family reunion for the first time in years
It's up at uncle Slayton's cause he's getting on in years
You know he no longer travels but he's still pretty spry
He's not much on talking and he's just too mean to die
And they'll be comin' down from Kansas
and from west Arkansas
It'll be one great big old party like you never saw
Uncle Slayton's got his Texan pride
Back in the thickets with his Asian bride

He's got a Airstream trailer and a Holstein cow
He still makes whiskey 'cause he still knows how
He plays that Choctaw bingo every Friday night
You know he had to leave Texas but he won't say why
He owns a quarter section up by Lake Eufala
Caught a great big ol' blue cat on a driftin' jug line
Sells his hardwood timber to the shipping mill
Cooks that crystal meth because the shine don't sell
He cooks that crystal meth because the shine don't sell
You know he likes his money he don't mind the smell

My cousin Roscoe Slayton's oldest boy from his second marriage up in Illinois
He was raised in East St. Louis by his momma's people
Where they do things different
Thought he'd just come on down
He was going to Dallas Texas in a semi truck called from that big McDonald's
You know the one they built up on that great big ol' bridge
Across the Will Rogers Turnpike
Took the Big Cabin exit stopped and bought a couple of cartons of cigarettes
At that Indian Smoke Shop with the big neon smoke rings
In the Cherokee Nation hit Muskogee late that night
Somebody ran a stoplight at the Shawnee Bypass
Roscoe tried to miss 'em but he didn't quite

Bob and Mae come up from little town
Way down by lake Texoma where he coaches football
They were two A champions now for two years running
But he says they won't be this year no they won't be this year
And he stopped off in Tushka at that "Pop's Knife and Gun" place
Bought a SKS rifle and a couple a full cases of that steel core ammo
With the berdan primers from some East bloc nation that no longer needs 'em
And a Desert Eagle that's one great big ol' pistol
I mean .50 caliber made by badass Hebrews
And some surplus tracers for that old BAR
Soon as it gets dark we're gonna have us a time
We're gonna have us a time

Ruth Ann and Lynn come down from Baxter Springs
That's one hell raisin' town way up in Southeastern Kansas
Got a biker bar next to the lingerie store
That's got them Rolling Stones lips up there where everyone can see 'em
And they burn all night you know they burn all night you know they burn all night
Ruth Ann and Lynn they wear them cut off britches and those skinny little halters
And they're second cousins to me
Man I don't care I want to get between 'em
With a great big ol' hard on like a old bois d' arc fence post
You could hang a pipe rail gate from
Do some twisted sisters 'til the cows come home
And we'd be havin' us a time

Uncle Slayton's got his Texan pride
Back in the thickets with his Asian bride
He's cut that corner pasture into acre lots`
He sells 'em owner financed
Strictly to them that's got no kind of credit 'Cause he knows they're slackers
When they miss that payment
Then he takes it back
He plays that Choctaw Bingo every Friday night
Drinks that Johnny Walker at that Club 69
We're gonna strap them kids in give 'em a little bit o' Benadryl
And a cherry coke we're goin' to Oklahoma
Gonna have us a time

[Clash Cadillac]

Cheney's Toy - James McMurtry

Another unknown soldier
Another lesson learned
Kick the gas can over
Strike a match get back and watch that sucker burn

Keep smiling for the camera
Keep waving to the crowd
Don't let up for an instant
Stay the course and make your mama proud

You're the man
Show'em what you're made of
You're no longer daddy's boy
You're the man
That they're all afraid of
But you're only Cheney's toy

Another unknown soldier
Who's seen it all before
All in the name of Jesus
Behind the razor wire and shackled to the floor

Just keep smiling at the cameras
And keep that twinkle in your eye
We don't need to know the answers
Long as we're safe, just hit your marks and say your lines

You're the man
Show 'em what you're made of
You're no longer daddy's boy
Take a stand
Give 'em what they paid for
'Cause you're only Cheney's toy

They'll take a fork and turn you over
While the fat lady sings
One more pin on one more shoulder
Is all the future brings
For another unknown soldier
Who don't know his own name
And he won't get any older
And he can't see for the shrapnel in his brain

[The Duke of Ingmar]

Good one.

In the same vein (well, a bit):

Rich Man’s War (Steve Earle)

Jimmy joined the army ‘cause he had no place to go
There ain’t nobody hirin’
‘round here since all the jobs went
down to Mexico
Reckoned that he’d learn himself a trade maybe see the world
Move to the city someday and marry a black haired girl
Somebody somewhere had another plan
Now he’s got a rifle in his hand
Rollin’ into Baghdad wonderin’ how he got this far
Just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war

Bobby had an eagle and a flag tattooed on his arm
Red white and blue to the bone when he landed in Kandahar
Left behind a pretty young wife and a baby girl
A stack of overdue bills and went off to save the world
Been a year now and he’s still there
Chasin’ ghosts in the thin dry air
Meanwhile back at home the finance company took his car
Just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war

When will we ever learn
When will we ever see
We stand up and take our turn
And keep tellin’ ourselves we’re free

Ali was the second son of a second son
Grew up in Gaza throwing bottles and rocks when the tanks would come
Ain’t nothin’ else to do around here just a game children play
Somethin’ ‘bout livin’ in fear all your life makes you hard that way

He answered when he got the call
Wrapped himself in death and praised Allah
A fat man in a new Mercedes drove him to the door
Just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war

[Clash Cadillac]

I love this lyric from:

Rachel's Song - James McMurtry
Where'd You Hide The Body (1995)

I wrecked the El Camino
Would have been DWI
So I just walked off and left it
Laying on its side
The troopers found it in the morning
And they said it's purely luck I wasn't killed
I probably ought to quit my drinking
But I don't believe I will

[Benno]

intense, first song to give me chills AND spins
(yes, music is a drug)

Clann Zu- Words for snow

So many call here on their way down below
and I'll be here burning till the end of time.
Thoughts of the falling burn from the ceiling to the wall
and I'll be here waiting till the end of time.
And nothing here is safe
and nothing here is sacred
and the thing you care for most will crawl away wounded as you tell it you love it,
into the dark recesses & hollowed out corners of nothing.
And the last touch is always the hardest
and the last touch is always the same
and the last look is the one that will kill you
and the last touch is the one that will drive you insane.

And as the night fell and the gutters swelled with the roar of the pissing city and the falling balling and crawling below he sat shaking uncontrollably by the window looking over the pestilent street. And he sat and he prayed and he prayed and he sat and he prayed to St. Augustus, St Brigid, Padre Pio, patron saint of all sinners, patron saint of all fools, patron saint of every fucking dying crawling thing beneath him, shouting out the names of the dead and forgotten. And he cried out for Christ's sake help me! For Christ's sake get me out of here! God of all sick things get me the fuck out of here! Release me!

[Clash Cadillac]

From James McMurtry's Hurricane Party

Some insurance man biker is yelling out for one more beer
But a part time pirate just can't get much respect around here
We got our problems too man
We'll get to you in just a minute
Sit your drunk ass down

[IrishRover]

WHAT'S ANOTHER YEAR

I've been waiting such a long time,
looking out for you
But you're not here
What's another year?

I've been waking such a long time,
reaching out for you
But you're not near
What's another year?

What's another year
For someone who's lost everything that he owns?
What's another year
For someone who's getting used to being alone?

I've been praying such a long time
It's the only way to hide the fear
What's another year?

What's another year
For someone who's lost everything that he owns?
What's another year
For someone who's getting used to being alone?

I've been crying such a long time
With such a lot of pain in every tear

What's another year?
For someone who is getting used to being alone
What's another year?
For someone who is getting used to being alone
What's another year?
For someone who is getting used to being alone

[Sportin' Life]

I like a lot of The Decemberists, and Tarkio's lyrics. Collin Meloy is a great wordsmith, especially for poetry spoken aloud.

This is the lyrics for The Perfect Crime 2. It makes me think of a Hollywood storyboard with various images slathered for the producers whim:

Sing muse, of the passion of the pistol
Sing muse, of the warning by the whistle
A night so dark in the waning
A dawn obscured by the slate sky raining, oh oh

Five and twenty burglars by the reservoir
A teenage lookout on the signal tower
The mogul's daughter in hog-tie
The mogul fingers the wrong guy, all right

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

The bagman's quaking at the fingers
The hand-off glance a little lingers
A well-dressed man in the crosshairs
A shot rings out from somewhere upstairs

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was the perfect crime

It was like a ticker-tape parade
When the plastique on the safe was blown away
And we all gazed from eye to eye
As we mouthed our silent goodbyes

The valley's sleeping like a bastard
It stinks of slumber and disaster
Two words are spoke on the tap wire
The agent's ploy finds a sure-fire backfire

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime