What (if any) musicians could be considered poets?
>>7808947
Leonard Cohen was a poet before he picked up a guitar. Some decent stuff I suppose.
fuck
Leonard Cohen & Jeff Mangum.
/thread
why is this a dead thread its a decent fucking question
I think Brian Eno's early stuff, especially "Another Green World", could be considered poetry. Songs like "I'll Come Running" for example.
so, poets are not as talented and complete as musicians?
Let me share a poem with you:
When I look back upon my life
It's always with a sense of shame
I've always been the one to blame
For everything I long to do
No matter when or where or who
Has one thing in common, too
At school they taught me how to be
So pure in thought and word and deed
They didn't quite succeed
For everything I long to do
No matter when or where or who
Has one thing in common, too
It's a,
it's a,
it's a,
it's a sin
Everything I've ever done
Everything I ever do
Every place I've ever been
Everywhere I'm going to
It's a sin
Father, forgive me,
I tried not to do it
Turned over a new leaf,
then tore right through it
Whatever you taught me,
I didn't believe it
Father, you fought me,
'cause I didn't care
And I still don't understand
fuck phil ochs that guy is a fucking pseudo poetic tryhard
Please don't cry
For the ghost and the storm outside
Will not invade this sacred shrine
Nor infiltrate your mind
My life down I shall lie
If the bogey-man should try
To play tricks on your sacred mind
To tease, torment, and tantalize
Wavering shadows loom
A piano plays in an empty room
There'll be blood on the cleaver tonight
And when darkness lifts
And the room is bright
I'll still be by your side
For you are all that matters
And I'll love you to till the day I die
There never need be longing in your eyes
As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
Ceiling shadows shimmy by
And when the wardrobe towers
Like a beast of prey
There's sadness in your beautiful eyes
Oh, your untouched, unsoiled, wondrous eyes
My life down I shall lie
Should restless spirits try
To play tricks on your sacred mind
I once had a child, and it saved my life
And I never even asked his name
I just looked into his wondrous eyes
And said : "never never never again"
And all too soon I did return
Just like a moth to a flame
So rattle my bones all over the stones
I'm only a beggar-man whom nobody owns
See how words as old as sin
Fit me like a glove
I'm here and here I'll stay
Together we lie, together we pray
There never need be longing in your eyes
As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
Mine
Climb up on my knee, sonny boy
Although you're only three, sonny boy
You're - you're mine
And your mother she just never knew
Oh, your mother...
As long ... as long ... as long
I did my best for her
I did my best for her
>>7808947
Not him.
Mangum
Lucifer
We Are Here
For Your Praise
Evil One
Our Conjuration Sings Infernal Psalms
And Smear The Smudge In Bleeding Palms
Demigod
Our Task
Behind Mask
Chosen Son
Oh, You Rebel Chief, Destroyer Of The Earth
Rise From Precipice Through Birth
Sathanas
We Are One
Out Of Three
Trinity
Siamo Con Clavi
Siamo Con Dio
Siamo Con Il Nostro Dio Scuro
All lyricists are poets you retard
The quality just varies
Poems and songs should basically be kept separate.
>>7809022
literally reads like a poem from the poetry crit thread
Bob Dylan
Leonard Cohen
Nick Drake
and maybe John Lennon
>>7809034
Obviously what he means is what musician has good enough lyricism that he could make it as a poet.
>>7809051
Jesus fucking christ
>>7809022
Patti Smith did it better.
Thomas Yorkington
>>7809062
Jesus christ wasnt a musician you dumb cunt
>>7809054
But what poets are shit enough to be considered musicians
To call for hands from above,
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
To cry for hands from above,
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, oh
>>7809073
Bukowski
she's got a neck built for my hands;
the way a pine grows for the saw.
they say I hate women;
they couldn't be more wrong.
she's got a pierced lip,
and a mohawk,
and a strut,
that reminds me of a tiger.
I think she's a waitress
at rocket to venus
I've seen her flipping records
at reptilian the other day
I followed her
all the way
from hopkins to the harbor
I lost her in the crowd
when the O's game let out
I never saw that girl again
and it's a shame
I just wanted to hold her
like an anaconda
Anaconda
Anaconda
mc ride
Tom Waits.My main inspiration
>>7809087
Fuck you and your opinion you fascist fuck.
>>7809107
He sounds like what'd be like to vomit and talk at the same time while seizing in a ball pit filled w/pots & pans. Plus some piano.
This is worse than the usual musicians-can-be-poets thread
bowie has some decent stuff, especially on ZS and Blackstar.
ok get ready for it lads.
This will probably get some hate, but Panic! At the Disco has some deeply moving lyrics in a ton of songs. I think they get easily dismissed because they are associated with emo.
I wish I was a willow tree, leanin' on a lazy breeze
Movin' like a midnight train through rainy Georgia
I wish I was a grain of sand, layin' in a baby's hand
Fallin' like a diamond chain into the ocean
I wish I was a grain of sand, I'd be playin' in a baby's hand
Fallin' like a diamond chain into the ocean
All of them. All music with lyrics is poetry. Even bad music is just bad poetry
>>7809158
No, they're easily dismissed because they're shit.
IMO even the most gifted lyricists would fall flat if they were translated onto the printed page. What is poignant and thoughtful in a song would be considered cliché and probably even laughable in an actual poem.
proof:leonard cohen has highly acclaimed songs that he ripped right out of his poetry books, which are generally met with a lukewarm reaction. Suzanne was a poem at first, and frankly, it sucked until he put it to music.
Hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I'm so lonesome I could cry.
I've never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind the clouds
To hide its face and cry.
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That mean's he's lost the will to live
I'm so lonesome I could cry.
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder just where you are
I'm so lonesome I could cry...
This is Jordan; we do what we like
Stay with me, my five year old
Stay with me, play hide and seek
This is Jordan, we do what we like
And this will stay with you until you die
And I will stay with you until you die
And this is Jordan, we do what we like
And this will stay with you until you die
And I will stay with you until you die
Suck daddy, suck daddy, suck daddy
My dick - sick and dangerous
Your dick - quick and painless
My dick - 'nuff said.
Your dick loves Fred
It's time that we let the world know
Dude, you gotta let your girl go
D.S. is the best in the business
P.S. we got dicks like Jesus
>>7809133
On his earliest album he has a very decent singing voice, but all too loungey. If I recall he heard Captain Beefheart and was completely changed.
when musicians use more "poetic" language in their songs they get a lot of flak for being pretentious or tryhard. ex:phil ochs, bob Dylan (though I guess the criticism lies in the fact that they don't use their language well as opposed to them attempting a more poetic syntax at all)
Johnny Cash was one of the few country musicians to sing about REAL shit
For two long years my head hurt bad
So a doctor checked me and he shook his head
He said "I'm sorry to tell you, but your body's outlived your brain"
He said "I know this doctor in New York, son
And he'll fix you right up with a brand new one"
So the head doctor met me when I stepped down off of the train.
He said "we had this bank robber killed last night
His body's shot but his brain's alright
I'll give you a transplant, boy, and you'll be OK"
I got my new brain in and I was feelin' great
I went right back to Nashville with no headache
But something strange happened when I walked in the bank one day.
I said "stick 'em up everybody; I'm robbin' this place
Drop all of your money in my guitar case
Don't nobody move and don't nobody reach for that door"
A lady said, "why, you're Johnny Cash"
I said "no ma'am, I'm the Manhattan Flash
And I am the best bank robber in New York."
Now the other night Roy Acuff called me
He said "John, I'd like for you to do the Opry"
So I went out on the stage, but I couldn't sing
I got into a half a verse of "I Walk The Line"
And something snapped in this head of mine
I yelled "Stick 'em up! Give me your money, your watches and rings!"
Well, I called New York and talked to that brain quack
And said "Doc, I gotta have my old brain back"
He said "I'm sorry there, Mr. Cash, but I can't do that"
He said "I put your brain in a chicken last Monday
He's singing your songs and makin' lots of money
And I got him signed to a ten-year recording contract."
Now friends if you see me walkin' down the street
Remember what you see ain't necessarily me
And if I try to hold you up, don't pay me no mind
But when you got ten bucks that you can blow
You oughta catch that Johnny Chicken show
He's doin' fairs and concert dates all up and down the line.
I said "stick 'em up everybody; I'm robbin' this place
Drop all of your money in my guitar case
Don't nobody move and don't nobody reach for that door"
A lady said, "why, you're Johnny Cash"
I said "no ma'am, I'm the Manhattan Flash
And I am the best bank robber in New York."
Well, I don't pay any income tax.
You don't pay tax on money you steal.
You oughta catch that Johnny Chicken show...
Chicken In Black!
Mmm......
down off in the dirt
the juice starts to pump
like a fire hydrant
driving great walls
of fuck
into animal streets
and sunshine never fails to die
in the niteclub muscular throb throb
throb
and squeal of pain
while the cat and mouse
play the cat and mouse game
waiting for the days of rain
coming down in buckets of black
machine-gunning this rickety shack
cats and mice and dogs at the door
when it rains it always pours
she runs in dark spaces
she pounces and chases
and grins spread on three faces
hers and mine and the evil behind
>Lyrics by Eugene S. Robinson, a nigger
>enjoy it
>>7809051
> Nick Drake
My nigga. He's my favorite musician. The dude read a lot of and attempted to emulate William Blake.
>>7809287
I definitely see that, how he uses the elemental imagery and this sort of change from innocence into experience, especially on Place to Be.
What's Dylan's best lyric?
>>7809324
Visions of Johanna or It's alright ma
>its another /lit/ embarrassed themselves with their music taste thread.
And you guys make fun of /mu/
>>7809018
>>7809022
>gay
>>7809031
>\m/
>>7809165
just kinda boring, and most of it is unnecessary
>>7809186
inelegant and kinda hacky but best so far
>>7809198
I've heard better songs about dicks, more creative ones
>>7809339
as if this isn't another /mu/ invasion
besides, a handful of these guys are naming stuff on the essentials chart
>>7809339
literature is inherently superior to music anyway
>>7809339
>implying it's not a /mu/ posters talk to /mu/ posters on /lit/
>>7809339
Anything worthy of your obviously objectively good tastes?
>>7808947
I’d seen the bloodlands of Antietam
The shotgun shack in Tupelo
But a brick circumference left hollow by Sherman
Crumbling before me how it moaned
His shape swallows my recollection
That phantom silhouette implied
Strange fruit rottingfrom an airborne and hotter than hell
Is this the king’s last man I’ve spied?
I stood there beside my companion
Scratching a rumor he had heard
Do you have a gun?
What? He said, yeah, you mean this one?
Straight down the barrel was his word
And I smelt the fumes he inhaled swiftly
Each word was hinged upon his choke
Like kudzu creeping up a state tree discretely
Forever bending as it broke
And I heard the jangling keys of Graceland
Ring from his teeth stained brown fromcoke
Drunk and stumbling like a man of distinction
They clamored shaking as he spoke
Of droves of pilgrims at his doorway
Of Reagan, Carter, Clinton, Gore
Fortunes offered them, refused routinely
This ain't no damn auction house he swore
Black male standing around 6 foot something
Ebbs through the waves of small town blight
A minute coldly from southern affection
Collides secretly into night
Forgive those who trespass against us
Began as the dead intruders plea
Into the very muzzle I’d once peered into
He gives the last words he will speak
But that broken glass supports forced entry
Reminds his lawyer through the phone
What southern judge do you know, comforting gently
Who jails white men who defend their home
No souls were present for the moment
His bombed out brick walls finally fell
Lying face down in the throes of atonement
Checked out of the Heartbreak Hotel
He was the uncast shadow of a southern myth
>>7809239
That was really funny.
>>7809100
>I just wanted to hold her
>like an anaconda
>Anaconda
>Anaconda
best poem in the fucking thread and OF COURSE its pig d
mad cunt of a choice my man absolute best grindcore band, big fan of agoraphobic nosebleed too
>>7809355
I mostly just listen to the top 500 /mu/ stuff
>>7809133
Good thing this is a poetry thread.
Though he made lots of shit as well Jim Morrison. Celebration of the lizard is ace.
>>7809171
Right?
Let me share my favorite one, it's always managed to chill my soul and bring on moments of quiet contemplation about my place in the grand scheme of the eternal universe:
Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass
Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass
Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass
Stop!
Now let that mother fucker hammertime
Morohine's really good for poetry
Songs like "The Night" especially
>>7809482
My bad, I meant Morphine
http://youtu.be/wI5hxEguomo
Once upon a time there was a man called Saul
Who persecuted Christians until he saw
The work was bearing fruit for the Christians
So the man changed his opinions and his Christian name to Paul
And he wrote important chapters in the Bible
But the blood on his writing hand reeked to high heaven
And Paul resolved to die
So he wrote to friends in Rome
A senator who owed him a favour
Asking for an executioner
So Paul could make his exit as a martyr
The senator sent this answer:
He said "Should you be so lucky like St Sebastian
Preferring the ache to the aspirin
Swooning as they shoot the arrows
Through your narrow chest
Stripping naked in the Circus Maximus
With a martyr-eating lioness
Bartering with flesh for a little pain
Scenes like this give sadomasochism a bad name"
Once there was a man who loved a woman too much
To give up hope when he saw she wouldn't touch him with a barge pole
He spent his whole life in the Inferno
He composed in thirty-four cantos
O Dante though I'm anti such romantic speculation
I'm your hypocrite reader in the same situation
I'm your double, oh me I'm your brother in pain
But Alighieri if you'll listen there's a difference
Between your Beatrice and my Paula
She's anonymous and now a waitress
- It's comic but not divine
The tragedy is no-one's dying!
Should I be so lucky like St Sebastian
Going out with a bang, just hear me
Whimpering with joy as Mr Death receives his blue-eyed boy
Surrender unto Caesar or to God, it makes no odds
There's just one thing the martyr wants to say:
He says "Tell me, Mrs Lincoln, did you enjoy the play?"
Of all the music I listen to, here's some of my god-tier lyricists.
Bob Dylan
Jeff Mangum
Paul Simon
Thom Yorke
John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Mac Demarco
Neil Young
Kevin Parker
Lou Reed
Jeff Tweedy
>>7808947
>touch young boys
>write lyrics
>wear wigs
If that's not the poet's literary lifestyle, I don't fucking know what we're all doing here anymore.
>>7809513
>lou reed
"And she's sucking on my ding dong"
David Tibet of C93 ffs
I wasn't sure
As the sky was toffee
Feeding birds
To the horses
Killing the clouds
And I cut off my face
And made skittles
With its theeth
I ate the graveyard whole
And holes open like candles becoming dogs
Well there are
Bluebirds
Blackbirds
Deadbirds
Totembirds
Baked in pies and praying to die
I made them rise
From their pies
And married the moon
And killed my face
And threw its quincunx into space
The cats are like furry constellations
They lap up the Milky Way
Speak tongues with windows open
In the fabric skulls
We wear like bonnets
To cover up our empty eyes
Behind such emptied eyes
The everything bubbles and laughs
No empty sketch
But quite as vast as children's dreams
Who sleep outside of manmade cogs
No barking disturbs the sketch of cosmae yet to come
Abba Amma (Babylon Destroyer)
King of dust I swept up
With pan and brush
In a rush whilst the berries explode
>>7808947
Now if I fuck this model.
And she just bleached her asshole.
And I get bleach on my T-shirt.
I'mma feel like an asshole
I used to have none
Now with you, I've got one
If I could get just one more
Then you know what you're in for
You ain't getting any sleep tonight
I hope that you girls don't fight
And I hope that you won't run away
'Cause I'm halfway to a threeway
I tried again and again
To indulge in just one sin
All you have to do is lie there
While I push aside your wheelchair
And I do everything it takes
To change your mind and apply your brakes
So I know that you can't roll away
'Cause I'm halfway to a threeway
Can't wipe the smile off my face
When you strut by in your leg brace
You just can't climb the stairs
And you ain't got any hair
I just can't get you to sit
You and your stupid epileptic fits
And I know that you can't run away
'Cause I'm halfway to a threeway
As I lay you down on my bed
It don't matter that you're brain dead
I can get so you close to ya
Now that you're in a coma
I'll make it sweet but short
When I pull out your life support
And I know that you'll just fade away
Now I'm halfway to a threeway
And I know that you'll just fade away
Now I'm halfway to a threeway
very poetic, very beautiful
kendrick lamar
Steely Dan
Underrated as shit.
No marigolds in the promised land
There's a hole in the ground
Where they used to grow
Any man left on the Rio Grande
Is the king of the world as far as I know
I'm reading last year's papers
Although I don't know why
Assassins, cons and rapers
Might as well die
When you come around
No more pain and no regrets
Watch the sun go brown
Smoking cobalt cigarettes
>no mention of Warren Zevon or Fish.
Jon Anderson.
>Oh the hill we viewed the silence of the valley, called to witness cycles only of the past, and we reach all this with movements in between the said remark, close to the edge, down by the river, down at the end, round by the corner. Seasons will pass you by! Now that it's all over and done, called to the sea, right to the sun, now that you find, now that you're whole, seasons will pass you by! I get up, I get down.
Does /lit/ still not have an archive? I guarantee this question has been asked a hundred times before.
Little miss dismiss can't miss like a detuned radio
I cannot believe you when you tell me what you know,
and nothing will be broken if your house is made of stone,
but you will know as I do it will never be a home.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S3ArMCpzJg
O.T. Genasis speaks to me.
>>7808947
A squid eating dough in a Polyethylene bag
Is fast and bulbous, got me?
When she wears her bolero then she begin to dance
All the pachucos start witholdin' hands
When she drives her Chevy, sissies don't dare to glance
Yellow jackets 'n red debbles buzzin' round her hair, hive-ho
She wears her past like a present
Take her fancy in the past
Her sedan skims along the floorboard
Her two pipes hummin' carbon come
Got her wheel out of a B-29 Bomber, Brody knob amber
Spanish fringe 'n talcum tazzles forever amber
She looks like an old squaw Indian
She ninety-nine, she won't go down
Avocado green 'n alfalfa yellow adorn her to the ground
Tattoos 'n tarnished utensils, a snow white bag full o' tunes
Drives a cartoon around
Drives a cartoon around
Broma-Seltzer blue umbrella keeps her up off the ground
Round red sombreros wrap her high tap horsey shoes
When she unfolds her umbrella, pachucos got the blues
Her lovin' make me so happy
If I smiled, I'd crack my chin
Her eyes are so peaceful, thinks it's heaven she been
Her skin is as smooth as the daisies
In the center where the sun shines in
Smiles as sweet as honey
Her teeth as clean as the combs where the bees go in
Who she walks flowers surround her
Let their nectar come into the air around her
She loves, her love sticks out like stars
Her lovin' stick out like stars
>>7809966
Yes.
>>7809982
your comment has been posted hundred times before too
Hey when I was a lad in fishing town an old man said to me
You can spend your life your jolly life just sailing on the sea
Now you can search the world for pretty girls till your eyes are weak and dim
But don't go swimming with the mermaid son if you don't know how to swim
If you don't know how to swim
For her hair is green as seaweed and her skin is blue and pale
And I tell you now before you start you can love that girl with all your heart
But you're just gonna love the upper part you're not gonna like the tail
So I signed onto a whaling ship and my very first day at sea
I seen a mermaid in the waves reaching out to me
Come live with me in the sea said she and down on the ocean's floor
I'll show you a million wonderous things you never seen before
Oh you never seen before
So over I jumped and she pulled me down down to her seaweed bed
And the pillow made of tortoise shell she placed beneath my head
She fed me shrimps and caviar upon the silver dish
From her head to her waist she was my taste but the bottom part was a fish
Oh her bottom part was a fish
Oh her hair were green as seaweed her eyes were blue and pale
And I loved that girl with all my heart I vowed we'd never part
But I knew the back was not too smart cause I did not like the tail
And then one day when I looked up I saw a sailin' ship
And I met the stare of a millionaire out on a fishing trip
A diamond ring he tied to a string and lowered it down to the water
And my love divine she went for his line and that was the way he caught her
Yes that was the way he caught her
So I sat and cried to the tide same to the clams and whales
How I missed my love her seaweed hair and the silvery shine of her scales.
Just then her sister swam on by, and set my heart awhirl
For her upper part was an ugly old fish but the bottom part was girl
Yes the bottom part was girl
Yes her knees are pink and rosy and her toes are small and frail
Her body it's a work of art and I love that girl with all my heart
And I don't give a damn about the upper part and that's how I end my tale
>>7808947
I close my eyes and seize it
I clench my fists and beat it
I light my torch and burn it
I am the Beast I worship
No mention of this guy yet?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QzDWIOUnM0
CTRL+F
No Richard Wagner
Go fuck yourselves
Don't forget Jimi Hendrix for some lightweight lyricism.
Not even trolling.
Purple haze, all in my brain
Lately things they don't seem the same
Actin' funny, but I don't know why
Excuse me while I kiss the sky
Purple haze, all around
Don't know if I'm comin' up or down
Am I happy or in misery?
What ever it is, that girl put a spell on me
Help me
Help me
Oh, no, no
Ooo, ahhh
Ooo, ahhh
Ooo, ahhh
Ooo, ahhh, yeah!
Purple haze all in my eyes
Don't know if it's day or night
You got me blowin', blowin' my mind
Is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?
Ooo
Help me
Ahh, yea-yeah, purple haze
Oh, no, oh
Oh, help me
Tell me, tell me, purple haze
I can't go on like this
Purple haze
You're makin' me blow my mind
Purple haze, n-no, nooo
Purple haze
Based Buckley kills it
Moodswing whiskey
Drank it all in the trailer
Waiting for the dark to move in
Sitting in my step-sister's kitchen
Horseflies on the window sill
Eyes trained on the lemon peel
And wishing it were a gun
I'm thinking of my wedding ring
Trapped inside the heater
Spring water on the floor of this sex starved room
Your nightmare falls around me
In waves of bliss
I tried to stop it with my hand
I was lost in a kiss
With you Moodswing whiskey
Your bliss
The actress
Bliss the assassin
Bliss The abyss
Took a crazy shot of whiskey
Went zero to sixty
All I could see was the bill
I sing a truer melody
With a drink in my right hand
Eyes sparkling, aflame and amazed
Said buzz me up to your junkyard paradise
Buzz me up to your junkyard paradise
Baby I need a sweet-ass photo of you
I cheated and I lied
And you stung her
Stung my tongue just like
Sweat from her shoulder
Ooh, moodswing whiskey
Your love the destroyer
Love the destroyer
Love, love
Yes moodswing whiskey flood my brain
Only you could break this chain
I need her in my bed again
Yeah, run down to the subway station
I'm packing my rod
All unnecessary histories erased
I am a punishing God
Moodswing whiskey
Your prodigal son has returned
This is for all the headless acrobats
Faces crushed in the circus dust
All in the name of gravity
And the price of admission
Beautiful loser, what has it left you now?
Beautiful loser, what has it left you?
'Cause you're beautiful
I think of mankind in quotation marks
Ever since I took a drink of you
You plebs have such entry-tier taste.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHF80iDFvuI
Dude was nominated to be the US Poet Laureate, but he rejected it. Based af.
>>7809554
>David Tibet
came here to post this sexy best
also arguably john balance, though he's like tibet's degenerate postmodern foil.
>>7808981
I really enjoyed his novel as well.
Lyrics are not poetry stfu
>>7810147
THIS
>>7809970
Feel the Steel
Trips to where, few have been
Out of thin air, upon high winds
Rites begin when the sun descends
Have felt what few will ever know
Have seen the truth beneath the glow,
Of the ebb and flow, where roots of all mysteries grow
I am below, so far below
The bottom line
Transmitting live, transmissions rise
From the depths out of controlled by
Suspended glance of an unblinking eyes
Imminent gaze cast 'pon the path that winds
'Pon the path I find, and claim as mine
To ride the waves, of unrest
Made to make me shine as a testament
To why the ways of the blind will never get
Shit but shanked by my disrespect
Dismiss this life, worship death
Cold blood night of serpent's breath
Exhaled like spells from the endlessness
In the bottomless wells of emptiness
Channeled to invoke what we represent
And I know soon come my time
For in mine void a pale horse burns
But I fear not the time I'm taken
Past the point of no return
Wage war like no tomorrow, know well there wont we one
For all who deny the struggle
The triumphant overcome
Jim Morrison
It's a whole 'nothe' thin'. But sometimes it interfers that line, sure. Waits pretty much uses poemform. I wdnt say that's poetry. Sure, sth between cohen and waits. Thanks, guys. ... ... I'm back. The real question is if any of it, literature, even poetry has any real relevance.? At this point in the mame.? not that i'm salesaperchin'. But music has the upperhand now. So, how do you fuck music over david w a trojan v goliath w a fedora- style? Imo, bring in a lot of 'forggotten older literature', bring in fx of streamofconsciousness and joyce, and have solely the literary element break fourth wall, rather then being dumb enough to think 'music can physically start negating itself'... I'm done ranting. Bye.
>>7809007
Yes. Secondeath.
Sale la nebbia sui prati bianchi
come un cipresso nei camposanti
un campanile che non sembra vero
segna il confine fra la terra e il cielo.
Ma tu che vai, ma tu rimani
vedrai la neve se ne andrà domani
rifioriranno le gioie passate
col vento caldo di un'altra estate.
Anche la luce sembra morire
nell'ombra incerta di un divenire
dove anche l'alba diventa sera
e i volti sembrano teschi di cera.
Ma tu che vai, ma tu rimani
anche la neve morirà domani
l'amore ancora ci passerà vicino
nella stagione del biancospino.
La terra stanca sotto la neve
dorme il silenzio di un sonno greve
l'inverno raccoglie la sua fatica
di mille secoli, da un'alba antica.
Ma tu che stai, perché rimani?
Un altro inverno tornerà domani
cadrà altra neve a consolare i campi
cadrà altra neve sui camposanti.
>>7808947
Harry Nilsson - "The Point"
I consider it a poetry fable.
Patty Griffin
Kate Rusby
Paul Simon
John Prine
Lyle Lovett
Peter Gabriel senpaitachi
>>7810110
Well, that's not fair, Shel Silverstein was a poet already.
"Alice, where's your tongue?"
She said, "Look in the encyclopedia's ceaseless chatter."
"Alice, where's your hair?"
She said, "Look in the sharp of a well-worn butterfly knife."
"Alice, where's your teeth?"
She said, "Look at the piano. They're dangling from every single chord."
"Alice, where's your lips?"
"look in the empires roaring; the tyrants getting so loud and boring."
"Alice, where's your man?"
"Look in this black eye written like the o in the word goodbye."
"Alice, where's your house?"
"It's built on the hush of your favorite record's screeching halt."
"Alice, where's your clothes?"
"They'll be sweet sheets around your eyes when street boars eat you alive!"
"Alice, where's your swans?"
"Flying in hotel rooms stealing stereos."
Mister, the sky's a contortionist.
The streets are skipping records blaring hiss.
Camouflage, camouflage.
The city's draped in camouflage.
The taxis are jaguars throwing fits.
Subways are subterranean bullets.
Camouflage, camouflage.
The city's draped in camouflage.
Can't you see the sidewalks are just snakes peeling off last year's skin?
Can't you find your own face shining in the sky's false reflection?
Where's your voice?
Where's your dress?
Where's your bones?
Draped in camouflage.
Where's your beach?
Where's your sky?
Where's your clouds?
Draped in camouflage.
And she says give me one good reason not to empty the heart of all its zeros and ones,
not to smash that telecaster before it births a thousand useless slums.
Love bit you in the throat while you were staring at the sea.
All the girls in Montreal are smashing skateboards in the street.
It's 4 a.m. and she's at your door with a suitcase, in a nightgown.
We slip through mansions with fences full-grown.
We slip through streetlights in crooked rows.
I saw the sky split in two: one half jealous and one half cruel.
I felt my chest cave in under a pile of synthetic grins.
The fields are Day-Glo under sobbing rainbows dragged through filthy thoughts,
false applause and camouflage.
I couldn't see the solar system,
it was camouflaged as a tape loop repeating.
I couldn't see the glorious meadow,
it was camouflaged as a smashed stain glass window.
I couldn't see the love and affection,
it was camouflaged as a jungle of erections.
I couldn't see the skeletal lightning,
it was camouflaged as a young machete.
DOOM
Morrissey, especially the Smiths stuff, he could have been the Rimbaud of music, but continued his solo act, which is so much weaker
>>7808947
I think Bob Dylan is a great lyricist but it doesn't really hold up as poetry, it's a whole other thing.
I'd say the same about others like David TIbet, Don Van Vliet, John Darnielle, Jeff Mangum, or Kendrick Lamar.
I love their lyrics, but I wouldn't sit and read them.
>>7809979
Came here to post this.
>>7811080
Ian Anderson is pretty good too.
>>7809051
>John Lennon
Kid please leave
The world was once seen burning in my eyes
Just as it is in yours now
A hurricane of memories put out the embers that remained
And now I’m gone
Though I’m obsolete, ill scold you even in your dreams
Rise from your sleep, boy
A myriade of maladies
Incomplete identity
Hunger for the love I never gave
Don’t think I did not hear you coming home, boy
Don’t think I did not hear you coming home, last night
I am an absent father
Glassy eyed, dormant and veiled
Father, can you hear me
My head is pounding like the wagons on a freight train
The wheels are poorly fastened and they threaten to drive of the tracks
Lead by your ever present voice
Im gonna take this fall for us
A myriade of maladies
Incomplete identity
Hunger for the love you never gave
Don’t think I did not hear you coming home, boy
Don’t think I did not hear you coming home, last night
I am an absent father
Glassy eyed, dormant and veiled
I’ve got nations blaming me for the passings of their children
I’ve been dragging ships across dry land
To fill the hole you emptied
Somewhere in you there is something belonging to me
And i don’t know how to retrieve
Don’t think I did not hear you coming home, boy
Don’t think I did not hear you coming home, last night
I am an absent father
Glassy eyed, dormant and veiled
Seconding obviously Bob Dylan, Thom Yorke and smiths-era Morrissey (Reel Around The Fountain's verse with the butterfly is GOAT)
>>7809554
I'm a fan of Tibet as well, but I wonder how much of it is because of his delivery, rather than the lyrics themselves.
>>7809107
i really find some sequences of pynchon (specifically in V.) to be very reminiscent of Tom Waits e.g. Shore Leave sounds straight out of a Profane flashback
Shane macgowan
>>7810952
Silverstein wrote lyrics for a lot of famous musicians. He wrote the lyrics for songs that were performed by Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Loretta Lynn, Waylon Jennings, and others. His most famous song he wrote is probably Johnny Cash's "A Boy Named Sue."
http://dmdb.org/discographies/shel.disco.html
Justin Furstenfeld of Blue October
Used to go see the Band at House of Blues before they hit it big and went mainstream. They still play there every Now and again. His older stuff is the best. You just hear and feel the emotions pouring out of him. His book 'crazy making' has the lyrics and tells some stories behind the songs. He had a bad drug and depression problem in his youth so it's really influenced his music.
>>7808993
Edward norton?
Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
Oh brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I am the captain of my pain
'Tis the bit, the bridle and the trashing cane
The stirrup, the harness and the whipping mane
The pickled eye and the shrinking brain
Brother, buy me one more drink
Explain the nature of my pain, yeah
Let me tell you once again
I am the captain of my pain
Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I cannot blame it all on her
To blame her all would be a lie
For many a night I lay awake
I wished that I could watch her die
To see her accusing finger spurt
To see flies swarm her hateful eye
To watch her groaning in the dirt
To see her clicking tongue crack dry
Brother, buy me one more drink
One more drink and then goodbye
And do not mock me when I say
Let's drink one more before I die
Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I've been sliding down on rainbows
I've been swinging from the stars
Now this wretch in beggar's clothing
Bangs his cup across the bars
Look, this cup of mine is empty
Seems I've misplaced my desires
Seems I'm sweeping up the ashes
Of all my former fires
So brother, be a brother
And fill this tiny cup of mine
But please, sir, make it whiskey
I have no head for wine
Oh brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
Oh brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I counted up my blessings
And I counted only one
One tiny little blessing
And now that blessing's gone
So buy me one more drink, my brother
Then I'm taking to the road
Yes, I'm taking to the rain
And I'm taking to the snow
Oh my friend, my only brother
Do not let the party grieve
And throw a dollar on the bar
Now kiss my ass and leave
Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
>>7811304
Oh, yeah, I already knew that, was just point out that Silverstein is technically already considered a poet, probably more so than anyone else posted.
Also, if you haven't already check out the albums he made with Bobby Bare, they were collaborators on a lot of different albums.
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
...
...
When the rain is blowin' in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.
I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.
I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawlin' down the avenue
No, there's nothin' that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.
The storms are raging on the rollin' sea
And on the highway of regrets
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothin' like me yet.
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
There's nothing that I would not do
Go to the ends of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love.
>>7808947
All of them, lets not pretend most poets aren't mostly mediocre at best
I was riding on the Mayflower
When I thought I spied some land
I yelled for Captain Arab
I have yuh understand
Who came running to the deck
Said, "Boys, forget the whale
Look on over yonder
Cut the engines
Change the sail
Haul on the bowline"
We sang that melody
Like all tough sailors do
When they are far away at sea.
"I think I'll call it America"
I said as we hit the land
I took a deep breath
I fell down, I could not stand
Captain Arab he started
Writing up some deeds
He said, "Let's set up a fort
And start buying the place with beads"
Just then this cop comes down the street
Crazy as a loon
He throw us all in jail
For carryin' harpoons.
Ah me I busted out
Don't even ask me how
I went to get some help
I walked by a Guernsey cow
Who directed me down
To the Bowery slums
Where people carried signs around
Saying, "Ban the bums"
I jumped right into line
Sayin' "I hope that I'm not late"
When I realized I hadn't eaten
For five days straight.
I went into a restaurant
Lookin' for the cook
I told him I was the editor
Of a famous etiquette book
The waitress he was handsome
He wore a powder blue cape
I ordered some suzette, I said
"Could you please make that crepe"
Just then the whole kitchen exploded
From boillin' fat
Food was flying anywhere
And I left without my had.
Now, I didn't mean to be nosy
But I went into a bank
To get some bail for Arab
And all the boys back in the tank
They asked me for some collateral
And I pulled down my pants
They threw me in the alley
When up comes this girl from France
Who invited me to her house
I went, but she had a friend
Who knocked me out
And robbed my boots
And I was on the street again.
Well, I rapped upon a house
With the US flag upon display
I said, "Could you help me out
I got some friends down the way
" The man says, "Get out of here
I'll tear you limp from limb"
I said, "You know they refused Jesus, too"
He said, "You're not Him
Get out of here before I break your bones
I ain't your pop"
I decided to have him arrested
And I went lookin for a cop.
I ran right outside
And I hopped inside a cab
I went out the other door
This Englishman said, "Fab"
As he saw me leap a hot dog stand
And a chariot that stood
Parked across from a building
Advertising brotherhood
I ran right through the front door
Like a hobo sailor does
But it was just a funeral parlor
And the man asked me who I was.
I repeated that my friends
Where all in jail, with a sigh
He gave me his card
He said, "Call me if they die"
I shook his hand and said goodbye
Ran out to the street
When a bowling ball came down the road
And knocked me off my feet
A pay phone was ringing
It just about blew my mind
When I picked it up and said hello
This foot came through the line.
Well, by this time I was feed up
At tryin'g to make a stab
At bringin' back any help
For my friends and captain Arab
I decided to flip a coin
Like either heads or tails
Would let me know if I should go
Back to the ship or back to jail
So I hooked my sailor suit
And I got a coin to flip
It came up tails
It rhymed with sails
So I made it back to the ship.
Well, I got back and took
The parkin' ticket off the mast
I was ripping it to shreds
When this coastguard boat went past
They asked me my name
And I said, "Captain Kidd"
They believed me but
They wanted to know
What exactly that I did
I said for the Pope of Eruke
I was employed
They let me go right away
They were very paranoid.
Well, the last I heard of Arab
He was stuck on a whale
That was married to the deputy
Sheriff of the jail
But the funniest thing was
When I was leavin' the bay
I saw three ships a-sailin'
There were all heading my way
I asked the captain what his name was
And how come he didn't drive a truck
He said his name was Columbus
I just said, "Good luck".
Townes Van Zandt
>>7810793
I know a lot of people love to meme DxGx, for bad and good, but their lyrics are very good most of the time
What about David Byrne?
>>7809492
this guy is great, thx m8
Biggie. He's so talented.
Gil Scott Heron
>>7809525
Lou Reed has great word choice
especially on Lulu
I like Fiona Apple's latest stuff
Every single night
I endure the flight
Of little wings of white-flamed
Butterflies in my brain
These ideas of mine
Percolate the mind
Trickle down the spine
Swarm the belly, swellin' to a blaze
That's where the pain comes in
Like a second skeleton
Tryin' to fit beneath the skin
I can't fit the feelings in, oh
Every single night's alight
With my brain, brain
What'd I say to her, Why'd I say it to her?
What does she think of me?
Thats I'm not what I ought to be
That I'm what I try not to be
It's got to be somebody else's fault
I can't get caught
If what I am is what I am
Cause I does what I does
Then brother get back, cause my breast's gonna bust open
The rib is the shell
And a heart is the yolk
And I just made a meal for us both to choke on
[Chorus]
Every single night is a fight
With my brain, brain
I just wanna feel everything
I just wanna feel everything
I just wanna feel everything
So I'm gonna try to be still now
Gonna renounce the mill a little while
And if we had a double-king-sized bed
We could move in it and I'd soon forget
That what I am is what I am
Cause I does what I does
And maybe I'd relax
Let my breast just bust open
My heart's made of parts
Of all that surround me
And that's why the devil just can't get around me
Every single night is alright
Every single night is a fight
And every single fight is alright
With my brain, brain
I just wanna feel everything
I just wanna feel everything
I just wanna feel everything
I just wanna feel everything
Conor Oberst. Too bad his singing voice is nearly insufferable.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqlsVypKIu8
>>7813394
The odd nifty catchphrase and deft rhyme, but c’mon, this man was a pig—Notorious P.I.G. more like; Piggy Smalls, heheheheh—and with a little help from his buddy Sean he almost singlehandedly set rap down its current path of spiritual bankruptcy. And he had the most unappetising vocal timbre in all of rap—asthmatic and adenoidal and mucus-bunged-up and fat-fuck wheezy all at once.
>>7809554
tl;dr
>>7813484
Them feels. There's something so pure about the universal human experience of heartbreak
Paul Barman
I was walking down the street staring at boobs asses faces
when I walked into the salvation army for some used glasses cases
What is the literary equivalent of Joanna?
>>7808947
I've been listening to Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde this week and most of each album is just nonsense, but what's good is really good.
>>7813256
>Townes
This
Also Nick Cave
>>7813602
Faulkner, Steinbeck
>>7813683
Could you liken any authors that write in verse? I know nothing but this is what I wanted to know.
>>7810866
Every so often he hits the spot with his lyrics.
I think Chamber of 32 Doors is underrated in every way, also Family Snapshot feels like Pete reading a poem over music anyways.
>>7810797
Celebration of the Lizard is one of the best combinations of poetry and music ev4r
There's a reason why music is called music and poetry is called poetry.
There is a reason why songwriters are called songwriters and poets are called poets.
It's because they're different things, therefore different nouns, different words.
See how language usage works?
>>7808947
Andrew Thomson from the Punk/Post-Hardcore band Single Mothers is a published poet and has several poetry zines to his name, called Essential Apathy. This is along with his spoken word style screaming
>>7813484
Yeah he's the closest thing to another Bob Dylan that music will ever see, honestly.
>>7813602
John Crowley
>>7813256
good taste senpai
The leading lights of the age all wondered among themselves what I would do next,
After all that I'd found, in my circles around the world, was there anything left?
"Gentlemen," I said, "I've studied the maps, and if what I am thinking is right,
There's another new world, at the top of the world, for whoever can break through the ice,"
I looked 'round the room, in that way I once had, and I saw that they wanted belief,
So I said, "All I've got are my guts and my God," then I paused, "and the Annabel Lee."
Oh, the Annabel Lee, I saw their eyes shine, the most beautiful ship in the sea,
My Nina, my Pinta, my Santa Maria, my beautiful Annabel Lee
That spring we set sail, and the crowd waved from shore, and on board the sailors waved caps,
But I'd never had family, just the Annabel Lee, so I never had cause to look back.
I just studied the charts, set the course north, and towards dark I drifted toward sleep,
And I dreamed of the fine, deep harbor I'd find past the ice, for my Annabel Lee.
After that it got colder, and the world got quiet. It was never quite day or quite night.
And the sea turned the color of sky turned the color of sea turned the color of ice.
After that all around us was vastness, one glassy desert of arsenic white,
And the waves that once lifted us, shifted instead into drifts against Annabel's sides.
And the crew gathered closer, at first for the comfort, but each morning would bring a new set
Of tracks in the snow, leading over the edge of the world, til I was the only one left.
And as the going got slower, colder and colder, my crew drifted closer to me,
At first for the comfort, but then it was more like the icebergs rammed Annabel Lee
As the floes shrieked her hull, the shouting began, and a mast snapped off in the wind,
And I woke up much later, my crew disappeared, and they never were heard from again
After that it gets cloudy,
But it feels like I laid there for days, or maybe for months
But Annabel held me, the two of us happy,
Just to think back on all we had done
We talked of the other new worlds
We'd discover as she gave up her body to me,
As I chopped up her mainsail for timber,
I told her of all that we still had to see.
As the frost turned her moorings
To nine-tails and the wind lashed her sides in the cold,
I burned her to keep me alive every night in the loving embrace of her hold.
I won't call it rescue,
What brought me back here to this old world to drink and decline,
Pretend that the search for another new world was well worth the burning of mine.
But sometimes at night, in my dreams,
Comes the singing of some unheard tropical bird,
And I smile in my sleep,
Thinking Annabel Lee's finally made it to the top of the world.
Yeah, sometimes at night in my dreams comes the singing of some unheard tropical bird,
And I smile in my sleep, thinking Annabel Lee's finally found another new world.
>>7808947
Yegor Letov
Mark E Smith
Jacques Brel
Baby in your cradle look at me
Baby speak in rhythms now you're three
Ride your German Shepherd 'till you're five
Baby think the TV is alive
Baby spend the night out you're thirteen
Bending for a wish your candles lean
Baby bang erasers and wash the board
Think just yesterday you wore a sword
Watch your new years evening wash away
You're on the floor, can you hear me troubador
Animal collective
Will Toledo
Robert Wyatt,Vangelis,Faust(whoever wrote the songs of the ST)
Wagner
>>7811155
goat
>>7808947
I stepped out onto the midway.
I was looking for the pirate ship,
And saw this small, old white tent at one end.
It was blue,
And had white lights hanging all around it.
I decided to check out the tent,
It seemed like I could hear music coming from inside.
As I walked toward it, I passed a crowd of people at the sideshow.
I couldn't figure out why they would want to wait in line.
I pulled back the drape thing on the tent.
There was a crystal ball on the table,
And behind it, a girl wearing a hat.
She smiled, and asked me if I wanted my fortune read.
I said okay,
And sat down.
Then I thought about it for a minute,
And asked her if she would rather go on the roller coaster instead.
Creeping up into the sky.
Stopping, at the top and,
Starting down.
The girl grabbed my hand,
I clutched it
Tight.
I said goodbye to the ground.
Far below, a soiled man.
A bucket of torn tickets at his side.
He watches the children run by
And picks his teeth.
Spinning round,
My head begins to turn.
I shouted, and searched
The sky for a friend.
I heard the fortune teller,
Screaming back at me.
We stuck out our hands and met the winds.
The girl falters as she steps down from the platform.
She clutches her stomach, and begins to heave.
The ticket-taker smiles, and the last car is ready.
Who told you that you could leave?
The sun was setting by the time we left.
We walked across the deserted lot, alone.
We were tired, but we managed to smile.
At the gate I said goodnight to the fortune teller.
The carnival sign threw colored shadows on her face,
But I could tell she was blushing.
https://youtu.be/EJ_Andc3ImU
Well, Dylan
Lupe Fiasco
I love the Lord
But sometimes it's like that I love me more
I love the peace and I love the war
I love the seas and I love the shore
No love for no beach; baby, that's law
But she doesn't see; therefore, I spoil
I trick, I fall, run up in raw
I love her with all my heart
Every vein, every vessel, every bullet lodged
With every flower that I ever took apart
She said that she would give me greatness, status
Placement above the others
My face would grace covers
Of the magazines of the hustlers
Paper, the likes of which that I had never seen
Her eyes glow green with the logo of our dreams
The purpose of our scene
The obscene obsession for the bling
She would be my queen, I could be her king
Together, she would make me cool
And we would both rule
Forever
And I would never feel pain
And never be without pleasure, ever again
And if the reign stops and everything's dry
She would cry just so I can drink the tears from her eyes
She'd teach me how to fly, even cushion my fall
If my engines ever stall and I plummet from the sky
But she will keep me high, and if I ever die
She would commission monuments on her bosom to him
Or maybe she'd retire as well
A match made in Heaven, set the fires in Hell
And I'll be
>>7809020
I still like "I ain't a marching anymore" but I see what you mean. He comes off as artificial in a lot of songs.
It's already been mentioned in the thread, but I would definitely argue for Jeff Mangum. It's a bit harder to separate from the music (the music imparts a sadder, more nostalgic tone), but just read this shit and tell me it's not poetry:
Daddy, please hear this song that I sing
In your heart there's a spark that just screams for a lover to bring
A child to your chest that could lay as you sleep
And love all you have left like your boy used to be long ago, wrapped in sheets warm and wet
Blister please with those wings in your spine
Love to be with a brother of mine, how he'd love to find
Your tongue in his teeth in a struggle to find
Secret songs that you keep wrapped in boxes so tight, sounding only at night as you sleep
And in my dreams you're alive and you're crying
As your mouth moves in mine, soft and sweet
Rings of flowers 'round your eyes and I'll love you
For the rest of your life when you're ready
Brother, see we are one in the same
And you left with your head filled with flames and you watched as your brains
Fell out through your teeth, push the pieces in place, make your smile sweet to see
Don't you take this away, I'm still wanting my face on your cheek
And when we break, we'll wait for our miracle
God is a place where some holy spectacle lies
When we break, we'll wait for our miracle
God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life
Two-headed boy, she is all you could need
She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires
And retire to sheets safe and clean
But don't hate her when she gets up to leave
Captain Beefheart is the best answer for a rock musician
Also David Bowie
Leonard Cohen
John and Paul for the plebs - George is the real answer
Jackson C. Frank
Maybe Jim Morrison if you're in the mood
Lou Reed is debatable
Scott Walker
Maybe Sufjan Stevens on a good day
And Syd Barrett
>>7818835
Please go back to /mu/
>>7818848
Takes one to know one.
BP WHEN?
Peter Doherty fits in very well. This guy is one of the best writers of his generation.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ok0VbvemQ0
Tupac Shakur.
Definetely Paul Simon
"Whenever it rains there's a rainbow"
"And all of it's colors are black"
"It's not that the colors aren't there"
"It's just imagination they lack"
