Thursday, September 15, 2011

Song lyrics

First things first.  I passed an old lady today when I was out walking, with her head buried in a book, just like I'm always doing.  But I didn't have my book with me!  I had decided to just listen to music today as I walked.  Dammit!  That would have been perfect, to pass a fellow Book Walker.  I imagine that we would have nodded casually to each other, both of us content in our own knowledge of the secret to paradise on Earth.

So anywho.  As I said a few sentences ago, I was out walking today and listening to an old mp3 player, one that had been lost for about 4 years.  I found it when I was digging through the dark depths of the corners of my room the other day, looking for something or another.  It has a bunch of old Pearl Jam songs on it that I haven't heard in years, along with a bunch of other music I had been really into at the time.  I'm not supposed to post song lyrics here according to my own rule, but these ones are important in that I identify strongly with them. And after all, it's all about me, isn't it?  No?  It isn't?  Well, I can pretend.

These are all Pearl Jam songs.  This first one pretty much speaks for itself.  And for me, too.


I wish I was a neutron bomb for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on
The Christmas tree I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence I wish I was the grounds
For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro's hood

I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb 'to trust' and never let you down
I wish I was a radio song, the one that you turned up
I wish I wish I wish I wish I guess it never stops.


I didn't realize this one was about suicide until today.  The guy in the song pretty much describes me, all except the part at the end when he checks out.  I've spent far too much time in my life thinking about it, though.  And I've actually done the sitting in the car bit, listening to the radio, and watching people as they arrive home and pull up to their houses at the end of the day.

"Sleight of Hand"

Routine was the theme. He'd wake up, wash, and pour himself into uniform.
Something he hadn't imagined being.
As the merging traffic passed, he found himself staring down at his own hands.
Not remembering the change. Not recalling the plan. Was it?

He was okay, but wondering about wandering.
Was it age, by consequence, or was he moved by sleight of hand?

Mondays were made to fall. Lost on a road he knew by heart.
It was like a book he read in his sleep. Endlessly.
Sometimes he hid in the radio, watching others pull into their homes.
While he was drifting.

On a line of his own. Off the line of the side. By the by.
As dirt turned to sand. As if moved by sleight of hand.

When he reached the shore of his clip on world, he resurfaced to the norm.
Organized his few things. His coat and keys.
And he knew realizations would have to wait.
Till he had more time. More time.

A time to dream to himself. He waves goodbye to his self.
I'll see you on the other side.
Another man moved by slight of hand.


This one is about addiction.  When you're high, truly, nothing is as it seems.  It's a big, beautiful lie.

"Nothing as it Seems"

Don't feel like home. He's a little out.
And all these words alone, it's nothing like your poem.
Putting in. Inputting in. Don't feel like methadone.
A scratching voice all alone.  It's nothing like your baritone.

It's nothing as it seems. The little that he needs, it's home.
The little that he sees is nothing, he concedes. It's home.

One uninvited chromosome. A blanket like the ozone.

It's nothing as it seems. All that he needs, it's home.
The little that he frees is nothing, he believes.

Saving up a sunny day. Something maybe two tone.
Anything of his own. A chip off the corner stone.
Who's kidding? Rainy day. A one way ticket headstone.
Occupations overthrown. A whisper through a megaphone.

It's nothing as it seems. The little that he needs, it's home.
The little that he sees is nothing he conceives. It's home.
And all that he frees, a little bittersweet... it's home.
It's nothing as it seems. The little that you see, it's home.


And this one is about love and pain in relationships, with a lot of dysfunction thrown in.  Mostly I identify with the pleading pain.  The implied violence, abuse and control drama is something I've seen a lot of in other relationships.


Oh please don't go out on me,
Don't go on me now
Never acted up before,
Don't go on me now
I swear I never took it for granted,
Just thought of it now
Suppose I abused you,
Just passing it on

Once passive, servile,
Now you're getting sharp
Moving oh so swiftly,
With such disarm
I pulled the covers over head,
Should've pulled the alarm
Turned to my nemesis,
A fool not a fucking god

Don't go on me

Go...  fuck...  blood...  touch...  burn... 
Oh...  time...  tunnel vision... search...  turn...

Please, please, please...
Don't go on me
Don't you want me...
Don't go on me
Don't go on me

I'll add more as I think of them.

No comments:

Post a Comment