What songwriters actually write lyrics good enough to trade blows with actual poets?

Human Bark ‘n
Beautyless hide from beauty
Bow your eyes ‘n heads to the duty of the dead’s
Suck the ground
Breathe life into the dead dinosaurs
Let the past demons rear up their heads ‘n belch fire into the air of now
The rug’s wearing out that we walk on
Soon it will fray ‘n we’ll drop
Dead into yesterday
Must the breathing pay for those who breathe in ‘n don’t
Breathe out
There’d be no game, brother, if no one would play
As for your games count me in all that can see,
Breathe in ‘n out hungry today ‘n eat hearty tomorrow
Or eat away ‘n be eaten some day
No flowers shall grow where oil shall flow
No seed shall sow in salt water
If the dinosaur cries with blood in his eyes
‘n eats our babies for our lies
Belch fire into our skies
Maybe I’ll die but he’ll be rumbling through
Your petrified forest

outta work jerks since they shut down chippendales

Tom Waits

Quorthon had some sick lyrics even on his earlier stuff, but the best are on the viking albums

>All you vagrant souls
>Of profane disbeliefs
>False prophets and deceivers
>Shall swing from the trees
Deep.

/mu/ shit

Roger Waters (guy who wrote most of Pink Floyd's lyrics)

Van Morrison
Joanna Newsom
Jeffrey Lee Pierce

arguably

>he doesn't appreciate beefheart

I really like Tuxedomoon's lyrics
youtube.com/watch?v=1ak1bckaKS4
youtube.com/watch?v=8NSMP-oA16U

...

Van Vliet is an artistic genius, but this surreal lyricism aren’t abything special, imo. Ofc it perfectly fits TMR, but still.

isn’t anything... sry

I'm partial to Syd Barrett but Roger Waters was pretty great. One of my favourite lyrics comes from Echoes.

>And through the window in the wall
>Come streaming in on sunlight wings
>A million bright ambassadors of morning

Those lyrics are actually from Lick my Decals Off and I think every lyric on that album stands on its own

I’m not that dude who answered you in the first place - wasn’t referring to whatever lyrics you posted, sry, just saw the pic.

Okay. I apreciate your civility.

Care to give an example?

This sad gent

…The depths of abjection, a throne of manure
But even during the ecstasies of beatification
It is by no means possible to separate them
The den of serpents, the knot of vipers corruption-bred
And the blazing spirit of the mystic heaven above
Angel browed with brass
Wreathed by a halo, sublime and infinite
Tunneled by vermin
…Feverish miasmas and a silent canticle…

Implemini Spiritu Sancto
The scorching heat of the furnace inside galvanizes
A grapevine whose roots sink deep, far into the arteries
In contemplation the Lord of harvests long gone
Shall murmur obscene wonders to those who ate the grape
Desperately feeding the empty void
Growing on innocent blood, the stronger and the greater
In ruthless rigour, in funeral glee
Implemini Spiritu Sancto
The foam of nausea slowly rising to the teeth
Yes! Truly adorned with the grim regalia of perdition

I shall hold high a bowl of gems of unseen radiance
Enveloping spirit and will in seraphic rapture
O deformity, hear the weeping prayers
Arise from rot, be my child! Be my promise!

The nebulae in the superior sky howled like a starving hound
Aboyeurs de Dieu ! Aboyeurs de Dieu !
Implemini Spiritu Sancto

>Aesop Rock
noice.

youtube.com/watch?v=ypjtniqCQ5E

One Rode To Asa Bay

One man rode the way through the woods
Down to Asa bay
Where dragon ships had sailed to sea
More times than one could say
To see with own eyes the wonder
People told of from man to man
The God of all almightyness
Had arrived from a foreign land

The rumours told of a man
Who had come from the other side the seas
Carrying gold cross around neck in chain
And spoke in strange tongue of peace
He had come with strange men in armour
Dressed in purple shirts and lace
Smelling not of beer but flowers
And with no hair in face

And the bold man carrying cross
Had told all one of Asa bay
The God of all man woman child had come
To them all save
And to thank Lord of Heaven
One should build to God a house
And to save one's soul from Hell
One should be baptised and say vows

A man of pride with the Hammer told new God
To build his house on own
And spoke loud of the Gods of their fathers
Not too long time gone
The rumours said the man with a beard like fire
And the Hammer in chain
By men in armour silenced was and by
Their swords was slain

Those who did not pay the one coin
Of four to man of new God
Whipped was twenty and put in chains then locked
By their neck to the log (To the log...)
And so all of Asa bay did build
A house of the cross
Every hour of daylight they did sweat
Limbs ached because faith does cost

The liquid is in your throat
For hopeless delight

After all you fell in love with death,
Life has aborted.
All you've had and all you became,
The night is calling, you pray forth.

The barren waste is your land
Your crops, they were sown to die

The skin is a mirror
The eyes hollow with ignorance
Health runs from your lips
Sucked in and safe in a world of sleep

All those years caring for a liar
A benefit road that is winding higher
You're a moth too close to the fire

You are stuck in a route of confusion
Changing and waiting and seeking the truth of it all

Fleeing your sorrows
Pushing your spirit away

Sick of the weakness of the psyche
A whisper from the heart of evil luring them all into despair
Resenting the goods of a savior

And cries out
For the restless will also die

A selection culled from the damned, drawing a lifeline of one
A friend died in your room and sought the birth of a follower

O brother, you are a killer and you target yourself
I wish you'd never come back for us to see the beckoning end

And the pride of a mother brought flaws in a mother's son
And the love from a father was used by a father's son

Overheard us talking in a smoke of lost hope
The language of a parting so clear and so true
Overheard us talking

this is the answer

Fabrizio De André.

But you learn Spanish instead of Italian, so... joke's on you.

Louie Louie
Oh baby now
We gotta go

Leonard Cohen without a doubt. Although it's kinda given as he is a poet first and a musician second

Very much this but also Simon and Garfunkel. Consider songs like sound of silence, April come she will, I am a rock. Strip away the music, look purely at the lyrics, and you will see poetry.

Third. Anyone who actually reads poetry (and necessarily listens to music) knows that this is easily the case.

Unironically mc ride

this
early gainsbourg was the best of the 60s (sadly)

The mountain goats

Some of older Martin L. Gore's lyrics are quite pretty. Recent stuff is meh though.

yall stupid hehe hows it feel wait haha dont answer it wont include the whole haha goofballs

Jim Morrison

Eyedea
Elliott Smith
Kevin Ayers

>t. ignorant dingdong haha attempting to masquerade as something other and failing..

>at barnes & noble
>pick up Fear an Trembling
>introduction has a quote: "God said to Abraham, 'kill me a son'. Abe said, 'man, you must be puttin me on'" - Bob Dylan
mfw

no, you guys are just wrong

Mark E. Smith of The Fall

Tied up to posts
Blindfold so can't feel maintenance
Kickback art thou that thick?
Death of the dimwits

Businessman hits train
Businessman hits train
His veiled sex seeps through his management sloth
The journey takes one hour

And it's a hexen hour
Hexen school, hexen cursed
Hexen bowl boils, hexen rule
Explain the mood harm

The DDR scene
Alpine pullovers
Alpine give over
You can clutch at my toes
You will drive me insane
You know nothing about it
It's not your domain
Don't confuse yourself
With someone who has something to say

Cause it's a hexen rain
Hexen fodder, hexen cursed
Hexen bowl boils, hexen rule
Explain the mood harm

While greenpeace looked like saffron on the realm
Brown, shrivelled
A Kellog's peace
The opposition was down
Red church on a hill
Red church on a hill
Styrofoam insides
Aluminium tiers
Louis Armstrong tapes waft down the aisles

And it's a hexen hour
Hexen file, hexen rule
Hexen bowl boils
Hexen rule in the hour of the fall

It takes grace to play the second fiddle well
His cap emblazoned a crusty knife
Live only one, was these you ate
Goes with you down, and pats your head

That's strife knot, strife k-not
Strife is life and don't forget it
Strife is life, you don't wanna hear it
Could be thirteen or thirty one of this mob
Could be thirteen or thirty one of this mob
Strife knot, strife k-not

Life is strife but you don't wanna hear it
Strife is life and that's it
And that's it, and that's it
And that's it

What's with all the shitty jewish meme rappers in this thread. Do people really consider stuff like that to be good poetry?

Dans le port d'Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui chantent
Les rêves qui les hantent
Au large d'Amsterdam
Dans le port d'Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui dorment
Comme des oriflammes
Le long des berges mornes
Dans le port d'Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui meurent
Pleins de bière et de drames
Aux premières lueurs
Mais dans le port d'Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui naissent
Dans la chaleur épaisse
Des langueurs océanes

Unironically, Lord Huron

I'm wasted, losing time
I'm a foolish, fragile spine
I want all that is not mine
I want him but we're not right

In the darkness I will meet my creators
And they will all agree, that I'm a suffocator

I should go now quietly
For my bones have found a place
To lie down and sleep
Where all my layers can become reeds
All my limbs can become trees
All my children can become me
What a' mess I leave
To follow

In the darkness I will meet my creators
They will all agree, I'm a suffocator

Suffocator
Oh no
I'm sorry if I smothered you
I sometimes wish I'd stayed inside
My mother
Never to come out

Smother by Daughter

this is shit pal

Honestly, Dani Filth. His best lyrics for me were on Cruelty and the Beast, which was, "...a concept album based on the legend of the Hungarian "blood countess" Elizabeth Báthory.

metal-archives.com/albums/Cradle_of_Filth/Cruelty_and_the_Beast/69

"Spawned wanton like blight on an auspicious night,
her eyes betrayed spells of the moon's eerie light,
a disquieting gaze forever ghosting far seas.

Bled white and dead, her true mother was fed, to the ravenous wolves that the elements led,
from crag-jagged mountains that seemingly grew in unease.

Through the maw of the woods, a black carriage was drawn,
flanked by barbed lightning that hissed of the storm.
Gilded in crests of carpathian breed.

Bringing slaves to the sodomite for the new-born.
On that eve when the countess' own came deformed,
a tragedy crept to the name Bathory."

this is good, although the Bathory story is an unrban legend/myth

Honestly, Dani Filth. His best lyrics for me were on Cruelty and the Beast, which was, "...a concept album based on the legend of the Hungarian "blood countess" Elizabeth Báthory."

metal-archives.com/albums/Cradle_of_Filth/Cruelty_and_the_Beast/69

"Spawned wanton like blight on an auspicious night,
her eyes betrayed spells of the moon's eerie light,
a disquieting gaze forever ghosting far seas.

Bled white and dead, her true mother was fed,
to the ravenous wolves that the elements led,
from crag-jagged mountains that seemingly grew in unease.

Through the maw of the woods, a black carriage was drawn,
flanked by barbed lightning that hissed of the storm.
Gilded in crests of carpathian breed.

Bringing slaves to the sodomite for the new-born.
On that eve when the countess' own came deformed,
a tragedy crept to the name Bathory."

Sorry - had to make a correction. I thought this was a slow enough board to get away with it!

The Bathory myth is perfect for Cradle. He did Gilles de Rais on another album (Godspeed). He gets a lot of flack but he's a very talented writer.

I'm surprised no one mentioned Paul Simon yet.

>I'm feeling bad, I'm feeling good
>Feeling like I never could
>Lick, lick, lick and suck, suck, suck
>I want it slow, slow, slow, slow
Come on.

JEW ON A MOTORIBKE

Cohen’s poetry is, as Joni Mitchell puts it best, «boudoir poetry». Utterly benign.

this Silenius-looking warbler

Jandek is the fucking heavyweight that puts most of these posts to shame, Dylan's true successor.

Also Bob Lind and David Berman.

I was drunk at the pulpit, I knew it was wrong
And I left in mid-sermon tempted by a bar-house song
The pews creaked and shifted as they turned to watch me leave
And I pulled a little bottle from the pocket in my sleeve

The sunlight was stronger to my church-dark widened eyes
Than the light which had blinded me with Christ's own half-lies
Yes, mid-sunday morning, my old playmates sat
Round a stumble stained table, Christopher spat
And he kicked out a chair and showed me to sit
Then they started back singing in that shit-smelling pit
They were grinning and dribbling with comforted heads
Their wives were in church or at home and in beds
Well, I sucked down a cupful and God shone within
In a red earthen mask, and I saw where I'd been was a palace of sin

Let them abstain on unbucking high horses
Poor wooden structures which merely eye courses
That these log heads run just to find some respite
In the whiskey-induced holy unending night
Yes I thought I saw new light, the black one which dimmed
The bleach garments with which mingled pee on stained rims
Oh the church songs they paled next to this fiery chorus
Composed from a living depth especially for us

There were arms linked in sympathy, gilded the glaring
Of these bloated companions, who hid 'neath their swearing
Some need for another, kin to brother lust
Which coarse words and music was faith and less trust
Yes, I saw a dependence, an inherent weakness
Within walls which hid sunlight and hindered all frankness
That floor there supported what souls couldn't stand
On their own in their own eyes, to hint they are men
Who are slave to their vision but to that alone
Yes, each of them cloistered fear of being alone
Wherever folks gather, to imply a rule
They are each one a sinner, each one a fool
For if I drink my whiskey, and if I sing a song
I have no breast companion a-trailing along
To imagine a sharing of burdens I earned
To steal from the embers I strove so to burn
God is one's corpus, and Jesus one's blood
The world is within you, without is of mud...

>David Berman
he's a very clever lyricist, much better than most ITT. how accessible is jandek? i've heard the music is overwhelmingly desolate.

Beck, cake, death grips, sometimes the doors, transatlanticism album by deatb cab for cutie.

>inb4 dc4c is a girls band

>how accessible is jandek
okay. there was a period of time where i was listening to his album Six on Six almost exclusively, because of how astoundingly creative and unique it was. but i gotta fill you in on a disclaimer, no meme intended
this is the most depressing album there is
because, like, there's the emotionally comforting, soft and fuzzy depressing, which is like your nick drakes and elliott smiths--but jandek is something else man. i found that my mood was becoming tremendously more upset and sad, just really sad, around the clock. so eventually i had to stop listening to it. it was just becoming too much. which is a kind of shame, because the lyricism is superb in every way imaginable, but it is fucking desolate. it ruins you in a way.
it's this weird hypnotic kind of depression, because instrumentally every track is basically identical. the same detuned mindless guitar picking with little variation. the melodies are mostly mumbled and atonal as well. so listening to the WHOLE fucking thing in one sitting is sortof akin to chinese water torture for depressive music. if you value your sanity: ingest in small doses.

>What is this
>The cavalcade of misery
>What depths
>How could we think of distances

>I always had a bloody lip, always
>Those Cadillacs just float over the road
>They don't even know the road is there

>Dust enters into all being
>And man who came from dust, to dust shall he return

;_;

Krieger was the better writer. But it's not like i listen to the doors for the lyrics

Maybe some of tim buckleys songs

>Eyedea
Seriously hope you dont believe this

And not to be confused with the cringey "loss" comic maker tim buckley. Im talking about 60s died of a heroin overdosis tim buckley

...

Morrissey

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 tantalise
Wavering shadows loom
A piano plays in an empty room
There'll be blood on the cleaver tonight
And when darknesss 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, wonderous 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
Oh, 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
As long... as long... as long as... as long
I did my best for her
I did my best for her
Oh...

>not a single mention of nick cave
Jesus

>muh whisky and trite Americana

Stop describing Springsteen

Definitely NOT Bob Dylan. He's one of the most trash entertainers of recent times. The "music" is impossible to listen to, and the "profound lyrics" are just a version of "I'm 13 and able to see through the bullshit of the world. And my special angle? I can't sing. "

Fuck Bob Dylan.

>mindless
youtu.be/ZiF6yBRzA3w

He makes it clear that all of the playing is intentional, but I know what you mean. It's also worth noting that all of the albums are improvised. Listen to White Box Requiem if you haven't.

My bad

Andrew Bird

How is he jewish, what dont you guys like about him, I'm not bothered that you dont like him or anything, just curious.

Not like*

i don't like drawing a heavy distinction between music lyrics and poetry, as they both aim for essentially the same thing; the portrayal of a mood, idea or atmosphere, perhaps a meditation on something, or sheer emotional resonance. sure, on average lyrics may not be able to be as technically complex nor dense as poetry, but i feel the music itself should play a large part towards expressing and/or expanding the idea its lyrics touch upon, thereby giving them a more profound, impactful feeling, even if said lyrics are very naive or childish (do you realize by the flaming lips being a good example).

>failing

relax

joanna newsom

>He's one of the most trash entertainers of recent times.
C'mon now... One must only expose himself to American mainstream pop music for 5 seconds to realize how ludicrous this is.

Young Thug

Nick Drake

ITT people post their favourite artists without regard for the quality of their lyrics
Worse yet is no one is individually calling everyones taste shit

Stephen Malkmus
Dylan
Whoever writes the lyrics for Parquet Courts
Joni Mitchell
Me

are there any good albums of his apart from Vol.1?

please note I can't stand some of the instrumental sounds on his albums, the very worst being the strings about 30s into al ballo mascherato from storia di un impiegato. i mean listen to this, its obscene youtu.be/7eFFidxbS9s?t=28

He's as bad as your average rap artist but far more pretentious, so I rank him lower.

was meant for

Townes van Zandt
Johnny Cash
Tom Waits
Lonesome Wyatt
Leonard Cohen
Nick Cave

Maynard.

>Tool - Hooker With A Penis

I met a boy wearing vans, 501s, and a
Dope beastie t, nipple rings, and
New tattoos that claimed that he
Was ogt,
From '92,
The first ep

And in between
Sips of coke
He told me that
He thought
We were sellin' out
Layin' down,
Suckin' up
To the man

Well now I've got some
A-dvice for you, little buddy
Before you point the finger
You should know that
I'm the man

And if I'm the man

Then you're the man, and
He's the man as well so you can
Point that fuckin' finger up your ass.

All you know about me is what I've sold you
Dumb fuck
I sold out long before you ever heard my name

I sold my soul to make a record
Dip shit
And you bought one

So I've got some
Advice for you, little buddy
Before you point your finger
You should know that
I'm the man

If I'm the fuckin' man
Then you're the fuckin' man as well
So you can
Point that fuckin' finger up your ass.

All you know about me is what I've sold you
Dumb fuck
I sold out long before you ever heard my name

I sold my soul to make a record
Dip shit
And you bought one

All you read and
Wear or see and
Hear on tv
Is a product
Begging for your
Fatass dirty
Dollar

So, shut up and

Buy my new record
Send more money
Fuck you, buddy
Fuck you, buddy
Fuck you, buddy
Fuck you, buddy

A change of speed, a change of style
A change of scene, with no regrets
A chance to watch, admire the distance
Still occupied, though you forget

Different colors, different shades
Over each mistakes were made
I took the blame

Directionless so plain to see
A loaded gun won't set you free
So you say

We'll share a drink and step outside
An angry voice and one who cried
'We'll give you everything and more
The strain is too much, can't take much more

Oh, I've walked on water, run through fire
Can't seem to feel it anymore
It was me, waiting for me
Hoping for something more
Me, seeing me this time
Hoping for something else

Not him.

Through these city nightmares you'd walk with me
And we'd talk of it with idealistic assurance
That it wouldn't tear us apart
We'd keep our heads above the blackened water
But there's no room for ideals in this mechanical place
And you're gone now

Through a grimy window that I can't keep clean
Through billowing smoke that's swallowed the sun
You're nowhere to be seen

Do you think our desires still burn
I guess it was desires that tore us apart
There has to be passion
A passion for living, surviving
And that means detachment
Everybody has a weapon to fight you with
To beat you with when you are down
There were too many defences between us

Doubting all the time
Fearing all the time
Doubting all the time
Fearing all the time
That like these urban nightmares
We'd blacken each other skies

When we passed the subways we tried to ignore our fate there
Of written threats on endless walls
Unjustified crimes carried in stifled calls
Would you walk with me now through this pouring rain
It used to mingle with our tears then dry the hopes that we left behind
It rains even harder now

Anyway, lyrics are relatively unimportant - window dressing for the music or the singer / MC's performance. When song writers hang out they talk about the music and technical side of composition, not the lyrics.