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Welcome Forum The Lounge Your favorite song lyrics – which ones and why?

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  • #1727
    Garibaldi
    Keymaster

    There are many songs out there with powerful lyrics. What’s one or two that you like and why? Post the lyrics here if you can.

    One of my personal favorites is Bye Bye Miss American Pie by Don McLean. This song refers to the events of February 3, 1959. Early that morning, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper (J. P. Richardson) were killed when the plane they were on crashed en route to a gig in Fargo, North Dakota. Here are the lyrics:

    [spoiler:72e999e904]A long, long time ago…
    I can still remember
    How that music used to make me smile.
    And I knew if I had my chance
    That I could make those people dance
    And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

    But february made me shiver
    With every paper I’d deliver.
    Bad news on the doorstep;
    I couldn’t take one more step.

    I can’t remember if I cried
    When I read about his widowed bride,
    But something touched me deep inside
    The day the music died.

    So bye-bye, miss american pie.
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    Singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
    “this’ll be the day that I die.”

    Did you write the book of love,
    And do you have faith in God above,
    If the Bible tells you so?
    Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
    Can music save your mortal soul,
    And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

    Well, I know that you’re in love with him
    `cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
    You both kicked off your shoes.
    Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

    I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
    With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
    But I knew I was out of luck
    The day the music died.

    I started singin’,
    “bye-bye, miss american pie.”
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    And singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
    “this’ll be the day that I die.”

    Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
    And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
    But that’s not how it used to be.
    When the jester sang for the king and queen,
    In a coat he borrowed from james dean
    And a voice that came from you and me,

    Oh, and while the king was looking down,
    The jester stole his thorny crown.
    The courtroom was adjourned;
    No verdict was returned.
    And while lennon read a book of marx,
    The quartet practiced in the park,
    And we sang dirges in the dark
    The day the music died.

    We were singing,
    “bye-bye, miss american pie.”
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    And singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
    “this’ll be the day that I die.”

    Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
    The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
    Eight miles high and falling fast.
    It landed foul on the grass.
    The players tried for a forward pass,
    With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.

    Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
    While the sergeants played a marching tune.
    We all got up to dance,
    Oh, but we never got the chance!
    `cause the players tried to take the field;
    The marching band refused to yield.
    Do you recall what was revealed
    The day the music died?

    We started singing,
    “bye-bye, miss american pie.”
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    And singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
    “this’ll be the day that I die.”

    Oh, and there we were all in one place,
    A generation lost in space
    With no time left to start again.
    So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
    Jack flash sat on a candlestick
    Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.

    Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
    My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
    No angel born in hell
    Could break that satan’s spell.
    And as the flames climbed high into the night
    To light the sacrificial rite,
    I saw satan laughing with delight
    The day the music died

    He was singing,
    “bye-bye, miss american pie.”
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    And singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
    “this’ll be the day that I die.”

    I met a girl who sang the blues
    And I asked her for some happy news,
    But she just smiled and turned away.
    I went down to the sacred store
    Where I’d heard the music years before,
    But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.

    And in the streets: the children screamed,
    The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
    But not a word was spoken;
    The church bells all were broken.
    And the three men I admire most:
    The father, son, and the holy ghost,
    They caught the last train for the coast
    The day the music died.

    And they were singing,
    “bye-bye, miss american pie.”
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    Singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.
    “this’ll be the day that I die.”

    They were singing,
    “bye-bye, miss american pie.”
    Drove my chevy to the levee,
    But the levee was dry.
    Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
    Singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die.” [/spoiler:72e999e904]

Viewing 3 replies - 1 through 3 (of 3 total)
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  • #22562
    Anonymous
    Inactive

    Damn! When I saw the topic, I immediately thought of Vincent by Don McLean.

    [spoiler:b1a38718d0] Starry, starry night.
    Paint your palette blue and grey,
    Look out on a summer’s day,
    With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
    Shadows on the hills,
    Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
    Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
    In colors on the snowy linen land.

    Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
    How you suffered for your sanity,
    How you tried to set them free.
    They would not listen, they did not know how.
    Perhaps they’ll listen now.

    Starry, starry night.
    Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
    Swirling clouds in violet haze,
    Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
    Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
    Weathered faces lined in pain,
    Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.

    Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
    How you suffered for your sanity,
    How you tried to set them free.
    They would not listen, they did not know how.
    Perhaps they’ll listen now.

    For they could not love you,
    But still your love was true.
    And when no hope was left in sight
    On that starry, starry night,
    You took your life, as lovers often do.
    But I could have told you, Vincent,
    This world was never meant for one
    As beautiful as you.

    Starry, starry night.
    Portraits hung in empty halls,
    Frameless head on nameless walls,
    With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.
    Like the strangers that you’ve met,
    The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
    The silver thorn of bloody rose,
    Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

    Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
    How you suffered for your sanity,
    How you tried to set them free.
    They would not listen, they’re not listening still.
    Perhaps they never will…
    [/spoiler:b1a38718d0]

    I identify with this song and van Gogh at many levels and I’ve always loved Stary Night. I even have a copy in my house.
    starrynight.jpg

    #22563
    hpdog259962
    Participant

    Hmm…

    I have to think about that.

    I RIGHT NOW, would have to say. You Don’t Mess Around With Jim -Jim Croce

    [spoiler:6dc4524e90]
    Uptown got it’s hustlers
    Bowery got it’s bums
    And 42nd street got big Jim Walker
    He’s a pool shootin’ son of a gun
    Ya, he’s big and dumb as a man can come
    But stronger than a country hoss
    And when the bad folks all get together at night
    You know they all call big Jim boss, just because, and they say

    You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
    You don’t spit into the wind
    You don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
    And you don’t mess around with Jim, da do da do…

    Well out of south Alabama come a country boy
    He said, “I’m looking for a man named Jim
    I am a pool shootin’ boy, my name is Willie McCoy
    But down home they call me Slim
    And I’m looking for the king of 42nd street
    He’s driving a drop top Cadillac
    Last week he took all my money, and it may sound funny
    But I’ve come to get my money back,” and everybody said, Jack, don’t you know

    You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
    You don’t spit into the wind
    You don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
    And you don’t mess around with Jim, da do da do…

    Well a hush fell over the pool room
    When Jim he come boppin’ off the street
    And when the cuttin’ was done
    The only part that wasn’t bloody was the soles of the big man’s feet
    And he was cut in ’bout a hundred places
    And he was shot in a couple more
    And you better believe they sung a different kind of story
    When big Jim hit the floor

    You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
    You don’t spit into the wind
    You don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
    And you don’t mess around with Slim, da, do, da, do…

    Yeah, big Jim got his hat
    Find out where it’s at
    And not hustling people strange to you
    Even if you do got a two piece custom made pool cue
    [/spoiler:6dc4524e90]

    #22564
    Garibaldi
    Keymaster
    Quote:
    Damn! When I saw the topic, I immediately thought of Vincent by Don McLean.

    [spoiler:5c9cb4e075] Starry, starry night.
    Paint your palette blue and grey,
    Look out on a summer’s day,
    With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
    Shadows on the hills,
    Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
    Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
    In colors on the snowy linen land.

    Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
    How you suffered for your sanity,
    How you tried to set them free.
    They would not listen, they did not know how.
    Perhaps they’ll listen now.

    Starry, starry night.
    Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
    Swirling clouds in violet haze,
    Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
    Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
    Weathered faces lined in pain,
    Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.

    Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
    How you suffered for your sanity,
    How you tried to set them free.
    They would not listen, they did not know how.
    Perhaps they’ll listen now.

    For they could not love you,
    But still your love was true.
    And when no hope was left in sight
    On that starry, starry night,
    You took your life, as lovers often do.
    But I could have told you, Vincent,
    This world was never meant for one
    As beautiful as you.

    Starry, starry night.
    Portraits hung in empty halls,
    Frameless head on nameless walls,
    With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.
    Like the strangers that you’ve met,
    The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
    The silver thorn of bloody rose,
    Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

    Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
    How you suffered for your sanity,
    How you tried to set them free.
    They would not listen, they’re not listening still.
    Perhaps they never will…
    [/spoiler:5c9cb4e075]

    I identify with this song and van Gogh at many levels and I’ve always loved Stary Night. I even have a copy in my house.
    starrynight.jpg

    Great song!!! :salut:

    I too really like Stary Night, its a very famous painting but it also has an indescribeable quality to it

Viewing 3 replies - 1 through 3 (of 3 total)
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