File: ebtg.png (25 KB, 440x224)

25 KB PNG

i always quite liked pic related. not sure what it means, though

>>25622539
lyrics that are mysterious and moving in the context of the song often look trite and hollow as pure text, imo

>>25622544
sure. are there no lyrics, though, that you feel can stand on their own?

Anything Dani Filth wrote until Midian and then some stuff after. Gothic, romantic, blood and soil paganism. Just a random snippet:

I have awoken from the past,
Glenfully with the shadows over England's bitter skies,
I prize mine wounds in a soil-sweated drink,
Remember me as king, when I cradled Hell to stars.
Like lovers in my arms, nestled vipers to my breast
Venom forces work these arts of Devil's and priestess.
Thus, I shall rule anew through sinews of a song played upon the storm by the ghosts of Avalon.
And all in league will bow to me; from death they shall ascend,
To whisper weals of war, to stir the dark force in men,
The principal black metal masterplan.

>>25622559
Also babalon AD

I've been very profound touched by Pink Floyd the last couple of days. Also soundgarden, holy shit:

I think I know the answer
I stumbled on and all the world
Fell down
And all the sky went silent
Cracked like glass and slowly
Tumbled to the ground
They say if you look hard
You'll find your way back home
Born without a friend
And bound to die alone

I'm thinking of your highness
And crying long upon the loss
I've found
And on the plus and minus
Zero chance of ever
Turning this around

Why doesn't anyone believe
In loneliness
Stand up and everyone will see
Your holiness

>>25622539
If you're a spic there's a lot of stuff, spinetta, silvio Rodriguez, parra. Spanish is just a more poetic language

Pretty much any Bad Religion song.
Certainly expanded my vocabulary when I was a teenager.

>>25622539
Kendrick.

I like lyrics that don't try to be overly sophisticated and "literary," but are rather brutally straightforward and direct.
>But it was only fantasy
>The wall was too high, as you can see
>No matter how hard he tried, he could not break free
>And the worms ate into his brain

>>25622539
I got something to say
I killed a baby today
And it doesn't matter much to me as long as it's dead
Well, I got something to say
I raped you mother today
And it doesn't matter much to me as long as she spread
Sweet lovely death
I am waiting for your breath
Come sweet death, one last caress

>>25622539
>I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving
>England is mine, it owes me a living

will there ever be another song writer like this?

>>25622911
It's amazing how even a single Smiths song can have multiple GOAT lines
>And if you must go to work tomorrow
>Well if I were you, I wouldn't bother
>For there are brighter sides to life, and I should know, because I've seen them
>But not very often

File: R-4733662-1487001696-6188.jpg (101 KB, 600x599)

101 KB JPG

>>25622539
>I drew the blade across my wrist to see how it would feel; Looked into the future; There was nothing to reveal; For we were just the product; Of the ever spinning wheel.
>Come and see me; When the screw has turned another turn. It's not that I'm confused; But I've an awful lot to learn; But I will be the one To make you work for what you earn
>After all it's just the revolution I despise; The dawn of revelations and the flower power prize; And I pity those poor children with no sunshine in their eyes

There's old Gray with her dove-winged hat
There's old Green with her sewing machine
Where's the bobbin' at?

She's toting old grain in a printed sack
The dust blows forward and the dust blows back
And the wind blows black through the sky
And the smokestack blows up in the sun's eye

What am I gonna die?
A white flake riverboat just blew by
Bubbles pop big
And a lip, and a lipstick Kleenex
Hung on a pointed forked twig

Reminds me of the bobby girls
Never was my hobby girls
Handful o' worms and a pole fishin'
Cork bobbin' like a hot red bulb

And a blue jay squeaks
His beak open an inch above a creek
Gone fishin' for a week
Well I put down my bush
And I took off my pants and felt free
The breeze blowin' up me and up the canyon
Far as I could see

It's night now and the moon looks like a dandelion
It's black now and the blackbird's feedin' on rice
And his red wings look like diamonds and lice
I could hear the mice toes scamperin'
Gophers rumblin' in pile crater rock holes
One red bean stuck in the bottom of a tin bowl
Hot coffee from a krimpt up can
Me and my girl named Bimbo Limbo Spam

>>25622539
in my long forgotten cloistered sleep
you and I were resting close in peace
was it just a dreaming of my heart?
now I’m crying, don’t know why

where do all the tears come from?
could no one ever dry up this spring?
if you find me crying in the dark
please call my name, from the heart

sing with me a tiny autumn song
weep me the melodies of the days gone by
dress my body all in flowers white,
so no mortal eye can see

where have all my memories gone?
should I roam again up yonder hill?
I can never rest my soul
until you call my name
you call my name, from the heart

in my long forgotten cloistered sleep,
someone kissed me, whispering words of love
is it just a longing of my heart?
such a moment of such peace

where do all the tears come from?
with no memories, why should I cry?
I can never rest my soul
until you call my name…you call my name
you call my name, call my soul, from the heart

File: 1784759705998684.jpg (61 KB, 1280x720)

61 KB JPG

>>25622539
>And it starts, sometime around midnight
>Or at least that's when you lose yourself
>For a minute or two
>As you stand, under the bar lights
>And the band plays some song
>About forgetting yourself, for a while
>And the piano's this melancholy soundtrack to her smile
>And that white dress she's wearing
>You haven't seen her for a while...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYPoMjR6-Ao
This song has no chorus. It simply goes from point A to point B, and the violin follows the singer/narrator's state of mind as he slowly loses it.
It's closer to a poem than it is to a song.

Anyone who posts the whole song in here is a fucking asshole. Post excerpts or eat cat shit

Living's mostly wasting time
And I'll waste my share of mine
But it never feels too good
So let's don't take too long
Well you're soft as glass
And I'm a gentle man
And we got the sky to talk about
And the world to lie upon

https://youtu.be/uLpNNjILJH0?si=GXZCVrlVfOfj3Zd-

can they? sure, why not. are they ever? no.

>>25622642
>drake, yo, you're a pedophile
Deep

>>25622539
I was having visions of sugar pastry
cooked up in clarified butter
I tried to turn my visions into prayers
but I built my castle way high up in the air

yeah I came to the gates of the fabled pink city
hungry and tired and cold
swing low, sweet chariot
chrome tail pipe shining bright as spun gold

my brothers picked me up out of the rushes
handed me into the company of evil men
but I've inched my way down the eastern seaboard
I am coming to Atlanta again

yeah I came to the gates of the fabled pink city
hungry, and tired, and mad as all hell
swing low, sweet jewel-encrusted chariot
make me young again, make me well

I am the killer dressed in pilgrim's clothing
I'm the hard to find stations on the AM band
I am the white sky high over Tripoli
I am the land mine hidden in the sand

yeah I came to the gates of the fabled pink city
hungry and tired and alone
sweet low, sweet sweet sweet chariot
coming forth to carry me home

I don't know whether they're considered /lit/ “worthy,” but I do adore these lyrics.

Although you think I cope,
My head is filled with hope
Of some place other than here.
Although you think I smile,
Inside all the while
I'm wondering about my destiny.
I'm thinking about,
All the things,
I'd like to do in my life.
I'm a dreamer,
A distant dreamer,
Dreaming for hope, from today.
Even when you see me frown,
My heart won't let me down,
Because I know there's better things to come (Woah Yeah).
And when life gets tough,
I feel I've had enough,
I hold on to a distant star,
I'm thinking about,
All the things,
I'd like to do in my life
I'm a dreamer,
A distant dreamer,
Dreaming for hope, from today.
I'm a dreamer,
A distant dreamer,
Dreaming for hope from today.
Yeah, I'm a dreamer
Oh
Oh
Oh
I'm a dreamer,
A distant dreamer,
Dreaming for hope, from today.
Yeah I'm a dreamer
Oh
Oh
Oh
I'm a dreamer

https://youtu.be/esUGzeJAwbQ?si=3JkkImzujO06dhEb

I just wanna fuck a dude, his cum is so sticky like glue
I made his dick hard and it grew
His dick is so cool, suckin' on him right after school
His dick is all covered in my drool
I just wanna fuck a dude, his cum is so sticky like glue
I made his dick hard and it grew
His dick is so cool, suckin' on him right after school
His dick is all covered in my drool

File: Hi, Digger.jpg (38 KB, 400x405)

38 KB JPG

>>25622539
Sure.

>im Land der lebenden Toten.
>im Totenland
>herrscht Totenstille
>Totenstille
>im Land der lebenden Toten.
>im Totenland.
>Totenstille
>im Totenland.

>Es ist anzuerkennen, dass Deutschland ein Totenland ist.

>Das kollektive Sein zum Tode ist vorzüglich den Deutschen zuzumuten.

>Sie haben sich in dem Jahrhundert seit Nietzsche im Suizid, Genozid und Holozid geübt.

>Sie kennen sich exzeptionell aus im Töten.

>Sie sollen sich exzeptionell auskennen im Sein zum Tode.

>Sie kennen sich exzeptionell aus im Töten.

>Sie sollen sich exzeptionell auskennen im Sein zum Tode.

>Der Tod, der ein Meister aus Deutschland ist, ist die erste Erfahrungsquelle für die Identifikation der Deutschen.

>Totenstille
>im Land der lebenden Toten.
>Totenstille
>im Totenland.

---

engl:

>In the land of the living dead.
>In the deathland
>There's a deathly silence
>A deathly silence
>In the land of the living dead.
>In the deathland
>A deathly silence
>In the deathland

>It must be acknowledged that Germany is a deathland.

>The collective being-toward-death is something that can be expected of the Germans above all.

>In the century since Nietzsche, they have practiced suicide, genocide, and holocide.

>They are exceptionally well-versed in killing.

>They should be exceptionally well-versed in being-toward-death.

>They are exceptionally well-versed in killing.

>They should be exceptionally well-versed in being-toward-death.

>Death, who's a master from Germany, is the primary source of experience for the German identity.

>A deathly silence
>In the land of the living dead.
>A deathly silence
>In the deathland

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_5bJte4AUE

>>25622539
Je vivroie liement,
Douce creature,
Se vous saviés vraiement
Qu'en vous fust parfaitement
Ma cure.

Dame de meinteing joli,
Plaisant, nette et pure,
Souvent me fait dire: "aymi"
Li maus que j'endure
Pour vous servir loyaument.
Et soiés seüre
Que je ne puis nullement
Vivre einsi, se longuement
Me dure

>>25622539
These niggas say they heard of me, I ain't heard of you
Get the fuck up out my fuckin' face, 'fore I murder you
Bitch niggas always jackin' Blood, but I know they fu
Whole squad full of fuckin' killers, I'm a killer too
Sendin' shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, nigga
Everybody gettin' pop, pop, popped, nigga
The thing go "Rrrah, rrrah, rrrah, rrrah, rrrah", nigga
We sendin' shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, nigga

File: 09e19479bc9075b370fea9005(...).jpg (27 KB, 640x425)

27 KB JPG

>>25624264

>>25624264
Guard my bed
While the rain turns the ditches to mirrors
By invasive carnations from central Ohio
Where the looking machine can't hear us

Deep in the night, we dream of positions
There's a line for the phone in the hall
And in the cold places where Spanish is spoken
Most wars end in the fall

[...]

Adam was not the first man
Though the Bible tells us so
There was one created before him
Whose name we do not know
He also lived in the garden
But he had no mouth or eyes
One day, Adam came to kill him
And he died beneath these skies

File: rs-144569-48a3c989e39b88f(...).jpg (100 KB, 390x390)

100 KB JPG

>>25624465

>>25622539
>History repeats the old conceits
>The glib replies, the same defeats
>Keep your finger on important issues
>With crocodile tears and a pocketful of tissues--
>I'm just the oily slick in the wind-up world of the nervous tic
>In a very fashion-able hovel..
>I hang around dying to be tortured
>You'll never be alone in the bone orchard
>This bat-tle with the bot-tle is nothing so novel..
>And in this almost empty
>Gin palace
>Through a 2-way looking-glass
>You see your Alice
>You know she has no sense
>For all your jealousies
>In a sense she still smiles
>Very sweetly..
>Charged with insults and flattery
>Her body moves with malice
>Do you have to be so cruel to be callous?
>And now you find you fit
>This identi-kit completely
>You say you have no secrets
>Then leave discretely

>I could say it's California's fault
>Or locked in Geneva's deepest vault
>Just like the canals of Mars and the Great Barrier Reef
>I come to you beyond belief....

Elvis waxing prophetic in the early 80's

>>25624441
>Elvis waxing prophetic
his aim was true, you might say

File: file.png (810 KB, 640x640)

810 KB PNG

>>25624498

Day After Day
The Alan Parsons Project

-----
Gaze at the sky
And picture a memory
Of days in your life
You knew what it meant to be happy and free
With time on your side

Remember your daddy
When no one was wiser
Your ma used to say
That you would go further than he ever could
With time on your side

Think of a boy with the stars in his eye
Longing to reach them but frightened to try
Sadly, you'd say, someday, someday

But day after day
The show must go on
And time slipped away
Before you could build any castles in Spain
The chance had gone by

With nothing to say
And no one to say it to

Nothing has changed
You've still got it all to do
Surely you know
The chance has gone by

Think of a boy with the stars in his eye
Longing to reach them but frightened to try
Sadly, you'd say, someday, someday

But, day after day
The show must go on
And you gaze at the sky
And picture a memory of days in your life
With time on your side

With time on your side
(Day after day the show must go on)
With time on your side
(Day after day the show must go on

>>25624481
I remember dancing around with my mother who was dancing around to Don't Answer Me..
Man....

>>25622539
There aren't any. Lyrics are superfluous in music, as proven by Enya in the song where she goes Hmm, hmm, hmmhmm...hmm, hmm, hmmhmm-hmmhmm, hmm hmm and it has just as much impact as lyrics. Might as well chemically desanitize Bob's trophy and give it to her.

Song lyrics are carried hard by the music, read morrisseys non lyrical writings and you can tell how terrible of a writer he actually is

File: Screenshot_20261031_06474(...).jpg (417 KB, 1053x1821)

417 KB JPG

>>25623215

Lupe Fiasco better than Kendrick but prolly they're both really written by Antonoff, sadly. The Blue Light by Zappa is either the profound Heidegerrian exposition of American consumerism and the tokenizing of experiences I want it to be, or silly prattle. This part about language seems sneakily profound to me, within the context of the whole song.

I always really liked the imagery and subtle humor here:

When I was stuck he'd make me memorize elaborate curses
Tinctures and formulas to ditch the chori and flip the verses
My whole foundation came unglued
When I tried to humanize by ambient light
Dipping swords in metaphors, yeah
But what does he know?
We're always one step behind him
He's Brian Eno, Brian Eno
He promised pretty worlds
And all the silence I could dream of
Brian Peter, George St. John
Le Baptiste De La Salle Eno
Well, all alone by the oldest stone
Where the shade trees grow
The creature by the water
Feature with a ghostly glow
Yeah, he's making sure that time's preserved well
We reap what we sow
We're always one step behind him
He's Brian Eno

>>25624465
>[My] aim is true
'Alison' has to be one of the most ridiculously ironic songs ever written. Presented as a kind of sad song of 'longing' what it *really* is is a song of absolute contempt. The dominant meaning of the idiom 'my aim is true' is something like 'I really do mean well' whereas the literal meaning is 'I'm an excellent marksman' (and you're as good as dead). The song comes together differently once this is realized. It's not only very good, but very evil too

File: rem.png (44 KB, 406x562)

44 KB PNG

>>25625613

>>25624918
never thought about the literal meaning; that does cast it in a different light lol

reminds me of Be Mine by REM which also has has some sinister undertones

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KYDlLI9gcI
Iron Maiden
Hallowed Be Thy Name

Somebody, please tell me that I'm dreaming
It's not easy to stop from screaming
The words escape me when I try to speak
Tears flow, but why am I crying?
After all, I'm not afraid of dying
Don't I believe that there never is an end?

Mountain Goats recently released a collection of song lyrics and it made me realize how thin lyrics are and how important music is. For a band that is known for their lyrics they can be pretty short. His approach is interesting though since he focuses more on just hitting the listener with a lot of images instead of being direct about what he is writing about. He also prefers song lyrics that start in the middle of the "scene" and also leave things unresolved.

[Verse 1]
Martin calls to say he's sending old electrical equipment
That's good we can always use some more electrical equipment
In the cold clear light of day down here, everyone's a monster
That's cool with all of us, we've been past the point of help since early April

[Pre-Chorus]
Susan and her notebook
Freehand drawings of Lon Chaney
Blueprints for geodesic domes
Recipes for cake

[Chorus]
Yeah we're all here
Chewing our tongues off
Waiting for the fever to break

[Verse 2]
When we walk out in the sunlight
We tell everyone we know it hurts our eyes
When the real reason we don't like it
Is that it makes us wonder if we're dying
And Martin's found an old trunk full of stage makeup in the basement
And he's sending it along, we can always use more makeup
Yeah, more creams and powders

[Pre-Chorus]
And Carrie's got the feeling
That the people next door
Will close in like a wolf pack
Should we make one small mistake

[Chorus]
Yeah we're all here
Chewing our tongues off
Waiting for the fever to break

File: uzumaki.jpg (150 KB, 612x871)

150 KB JPG

[Verse 1]
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning, running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

[Verse 2]
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

[Verse 3]
Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly? Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway or the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over, you were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the colour of her hair

[Outro]
A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a wheel
Never ending nor beginning on an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

>>25625184
Song brought 'New Amsterdam' to mind (I guess I'm in Elvis C. mode right now) though what Elvis achieves through ridiculously ornate word play, REM does with responsive imagery to an opening cliche: 'hey, I'll give you space' but immediately cuts it off with a line that at first blush seems 'romantic' but when read in terms of 'space' is as 'intimate' as it is suffocating and claustrophobic: he's not giving her any space at all unless HE IS THAT SPACE.
'The sky above the Ganges' though dressed as an 'image' (which in one sense it effectively remains) also holds an 'I'll be your God' meaning ('This guy' above the Ganges) at which point 'the Ganges' imagery begins to look like a wall or holding pen. Ultimately, the singer literally presents himself as not only everything she needs, but everything that she is going to get! --yet in a way that initially seems that he 'understands' her 'needs' (which, of course, he does, if) all too well!

>>25622911
Every young man singles those lyrics nowadays and the world laughs at them

The old ways are changing, you cannot deny,
The day of the traveller is over;
There's nowhere to go and there's nowhere to bide,
So farewell to the life of the rover.

Farewell to the tent and the old caravan,
To the tinker, the Gypsy, the travelling man
And farewell to the thirty-foot trailer.
Farewell to the cant and the travelling tongue,
Farewell to the Romany talking,
The buying and selling, the old fortune telling,
The knock on the door and the hawking.

You've got to move fast to keep up with the times
For these days a man cannot dander;
It's a bylaw to say you must be on your way
And another to say you can't wander.

Farewell to the besoms of heather and broom,
Farewell to the creel and the basket,
For the folks of today they would far sooner pay
For a thing that's been made out of plastic.

Farewell to the pony, the cob, and the mare
Where the reins and the harness are idle;
You don't need a strap when you're breaking up scrap
So farewell to the bit and the bridle.

Farewell to the fields where we've sweated and toiled
At pulling and shoving and lifting,
They'll soon have machines and the travelling queens
And their menfolk had better be shifting.