by Lorenz Hart
Look at yourself
If you had a sense of humor
You would laugh to beat the band
Look at yourself
Do you still believe the rumor
That romance is simply grand?
Since you took it right on the chin
You have lost that bright toothpaste grin
My mental state is all a-jumble
I sit around and sadly mumble
Fools rush in, so here I am
Very glad to be unhappy
I can't win, but here I am
More than glad to be unhappy
Unrequited love's a bore
And I've got it pretty bad
But for someone you adore
It's a pleasure to be sad
Like a straying baby lamb
With no mammy and no pappy
I'm so unhappy
But oh, so glad!
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Glad to Be Unhappy
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: contentment, longing, melancholia, romance, Standard, unrequited
(You'd Be So) Easy to Love
by Cole Porter
I know too well that I'm
Just wasting precious time
In thinking such a thing could be
That you could ever care for me
I'm sure you hate to hear
That I adore you, dear
But grant me just the same
I'm not entirely to blame
For you'd be so easy to love
So easy to idolize all others above
So sweet to waken with
So nice to sit down to eggs and bacon with
We'd be so grand at the game
So carefree together that it does seem a shame
That you can't see your future with me
'Cause you'd be oh, so easy to love
You'd be so easy to love
So easy to idolize all others above
So worth the yearning for
So swell to keep every home-fire burning for
Oh, how we'd bloom, how we'd thrive
In a cottage for two, or even three, four, or five
So try to see your future with me
'Cause you'd be oh, so easy to love
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: Porter, romance, Standard, unrequited
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Maggie's Farm
by Bob Dylan
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I wake up in the morning, fold my hands and pray for rain
I got a head full of ideas that are driving me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
Well, he hands you a nickel, he hands you a dime
He asks you with a grin if you're having a good time
Then he fines you every time you slam the door
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more
Well, he puts his cigar out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window, it is made out of bricks
The National Guard stands around his door
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
Well, she talks to all the servants about man and God and law
Everybody says she's the brains behind pa
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's fifty-four
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I try my best to be just like I am
But everybody wants you to be just like them
They say 'sing while you slave,' and I just get bored
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: disharmony, Dylan, frustration, historical
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
A Rose for Emily
by Rod Argent
The summer is here at last
The sky is overcast
And no one brings a rose for Emily
She watches her flowers grow
While lovers come and go
To give each other roses from her tree
But not a rose for Emily
Emily, can't you see
There's nothing you can do?
There's loving everywhere
But none for you
Her roses are fading now
She keeps her pride somehow
That's all she has protecting her from pain
And as the years go by
She will grow old and die
The roses in her garden fade away
Not one left for her grave
Not a rose for Emily
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: disharmony, longing, melancholia, romance
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Lazy Old Sun
by Ray Davies
Lazy old sun
What have you done to summertime?
Hiding away
Behind all those misty thunder clouds
I don't mind
To spend my time
Looking for you
For you are my one reality
When I'm dead and gone
Your light will shine eternally
Sunny rain, shine my way
Kiss me with one ray of light from your lazy old sun
You make the rainbows
And you make the night disappear
You melt the frost
So I won't criticize my sun
When I was young
My world was three foot, seven inch tall
When you were young
There was no world at all
Sunny rain, shine my way
Kiss me with one ray of light from your lazy old sun
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Holland 1945
by Jeff Mangum
The only girl I've ever loved
Was born with roses in her eyes
But then they buried her alive
One evening 1945
With just her sister at her side
And only weeks before the guns
All came and rained on everyone
Now she's a little boy in Spain
Playing pianos filled with flames
On empty rings around the sun
All sing to say my dream has come
But now we must pick up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on
And now we ride the circus wheel
With your dark brother wrapped in white
Says it was good to be alive
But now he rides a comet's flame
And won't be coming back again
The Earth looks better from a star
That's right above from where you are
He didn't mean to make you cry
With sparks that ring and bullets fly
On empty rings around your heart
The world just screams and falls apart
But now we must pick up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on
And here's where your mother sleeps
And here is the room where your brothers were born
Indentations in the sheets
Where their bodies once moved but don't move anymore
And it's so sad to see the world agree
That they'd rather see their faces fill with flies
All when I'd want to keep white roses in their eyes
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: loss, memory, surrealism
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Brokedown Palace
by Robert Hunter
Fare thee well, my honey
Fare thee well, my only true one
All the birds that were singing
Are flown except you alone
Going to leave this brokedown palace
On my hands and my knees I will roll
Make myself a bed by the waterside
In my time, in my time, I will roll
In a bed, in a bed
By the waterside I will lay my head
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul
River going take me
Sing me sweet and sleepy
Sing me sweet and sleepy
All the way back home
It's a far-gone lullaby
Sung many years ago
Many worlds I've come
Since I first left home
Going home, going home
By the waterside I will rest my bones
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul
Going to plant a weeping willow
On the bank's green edge it will grow
Sing a lullaby beside the water
Lovers come and go, the river roll
Fare thee well, fare thee well
I love you more than words can tell
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: benediction, Grateful Dead, melancholia
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Chimes of Freedom
by Bob Dylan
Far between sundown's finish and midnight's broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, as thunder went crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
And for each and every underdog soldier in the night
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
In the city's melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowing rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned, and forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burning constantly at stake
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
And the poet and the painter far behind beyond his rightful time
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf and blind, tolling for the mute
For the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chained and cheated by pursuit
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flared
And the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
And for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed and laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours, for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time and we watched with one last look
Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones and worse
And for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing