Favourite Song lyrics


#225

‘Kentucky Avenue’ - Tom Waits

Well Eddie Grace’s Buick got four bullet holes in the side
And Charlie DeLisle is sittin at the top of an avocado tree
Mrs. Storm will stab you with a steak knife if you step on her lawn
I got a half a pack of Lucky Strikes man so come along with me
And let’s fill our pockets with macadamia nuts
And go over to Bobby Goodmanson’s and jump off the roof

Well Hilda plays strip poker with the Mummers 'cross the street
Joey Navinski says she put her tongue in his mouth
And Dicky Faulkner’s got a switchblade and some gooseneck risers
That eucalyptus is a hunchback there’s a wind down from the south
So let me tie you up with kite string and I’ll show you the scabs on my knee
Watch out for the broken glass put your shoes and socks on
And come along with me

Let’s follow that fire truck I think your house is burnin down
And go down to the hobo jungle and kill some rattlesnakes with a trowel
And we’ll break all the windows in the old Anderson place
And we’ll steal a bunch of boysenberries and I’ll smear em on your face
I’ll get a dollar from my mama’s purse and buy that skull and crossbones ring
And you can wear it round your neck on an old piece of string

Then we’ll spit on Ronnie Arnold and flip him the bird
And slash the tires on the school bus now don’t say a word
I’ll take a rusty nail and scratch your initials in my arm
And I’ll show you how to sneak up on the roof of the drugstore
I’ll take the spokes from your wheelchair and a magpie’s wings
And I’ll tie 'em to your shoulders and your feet
I’ll steal a hacksaw from my dad and cut the braces off your legs
And we’ll bury them tonight out in the cornfield
Just put a church key in your pocket we’ll hop that freight train in the hall
We’ll slide all the way down the drain to New Orleans in the fall


#226

#227

‘Putnam County’ - Tom Waits

I guess things were always kind of quiet around Putnam County
Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the two-lane
That was stretched out just like an asphalt dance floor
Where all the old-timers in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkering down in the dirt
To lie about their lives and the places that they’d been
And they’d suck on Coca Colas, yeah, and be spitting Day’s Work
Until the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and
And the taverns would be swollen until the naked eye of two a.m
And the Stratocasters slung over the burgermeister beer guts
And swizzle-stick legs jackknifed over naugahyde stools… yeah
And the witch hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
And pedal-pushers stretched out over a midriff bulge
And the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli, or something yeah
Estee Lauder, smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration and
And knit their brows to cover the entire Hank Williams songbook
Whether you like it or not
And the old National register was singing to the tune of fifty-seven dollars and fifty-
Seven cents yeah
And then it’s last call, one more game of eight-ball
Berniece’d be putting the chairs on the tables
And someone come in and say, ‘Hey man, anyone got any jumper cables?’
‘Is that a 6 or a 12 volt, man? I don’t know…’
Yeah, and all the studs in town would toss ‘em down
And claim to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boasting about being able to get more ass than a toilet seat
And the GMC’s and the Straight-8 Fords were coughing and wheezing
And they percolated as they tossed the gravel underneath the fenders
To weave home a wet slick anaconda of a two-lane
With tire irons and crowbars a-rattling
With a tool box and a pony saddle
You’re grinding gears and you’re shifting into first
Yeah, and that goddamned tranny’s just getting worse, man
With the melody of see-ya-laters and screwdrivers on carburetors
Talking shop about money to loan
And palominos and strawberry roans yeah
See ya tomorrow, hello to the Missus
With money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio spit out Charlie Rich, man
He sure can sing that son of a bitch
And you weave home, yeah, weaving home
Leaving the little joint winking in the dark warm narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky
And it’s home to toast and honey, gotta start up the Ford, man
Yeah, and your lunch money’s right over there on the draining board
And the toilet’s running Christ, shake the handle
And the telephone is ringing, it’s Mrs. Randall
And where the hell are my goddamned sandals?
What you mean, the dog chewed up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knickknack shelf. yeah
And the parent’s permission slips for the kids’ field trips
Yeah, and a pair of mukluks scraping across the shag carpet yeah
And the impending squint of first light
And it lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
Yeah, and it’d be pulling up any minute now
Just like a bastard amber Velveeta yellow cab on a rainy corner
And be blowing its horn in every window in town


#228

‘Snow Angel’ - Ron Sexsmith

Strange how their love bloomed in the winter
Only to vanish in the spring
It never fails to make him shiver
To see the outline of her wings
Where she made her last snow angel
Little did they know
That it’d make a lasting impression
Deeper than the snow
In his soul, snow angel never faded
And when love calls to make that promise
One to be faithful and be true
It’s then temptation falls upon us
The world turns awkward and aloof
And with this betrayal
An angel descended from on high
Oh, but this was not a manger
And as he came inside to his fright
T’was no angel hanging naked
Strange how each year ‘round late November
When the first snow is on the ground
She reappears so he’ll remember
How a love so young can be cut down’
When she made her last snow angel
Little did they know
That it’d make a lasting impression
Deeper than the snow
In his soul, snow angel never faded
In his soul snow angel never faded


#229

#230

#231

#232

‘Colors of the Sun’ - Jackson Browne

Colors of the sun
Flashing on the water top
Echo on the land
Picking for a coin
Many other tiny worlds
Singing past my hand
Awake to understand you are not dreaming
It is not seaming just to be this way
Dying men draw numbers in the air
Dream to conquer little bits of time
Scuffle with the crowd to get their share
And fall behind their little bits of time
Voices in the air
Sympathetic harmony
Coming from the trees
Hanging at my door
Many shiny surfaces
Clinging in the breeze
Oh, leave me where I am I am not losing
If I am choosing not to plan my life
Disillusioned savior search the sky
Wanting to just to show someone the way
Asking all the people passing by
Doesn’t anybody want the way
I say goodbye to Joseph and Maria
They think I see another sky
And from my fallen window I still see them
I’ll never free them from the sky


#233

‘The Long Way Around’ - Jackson Browne

I don’t know what to say about these days
I’m seeing people changing in the strangest ways
Even in the richer neighborhoods
People don’t know when they’ve got it good
They’ve got the envy, and they’ve got it bad

When I was a kid everything I did was trying to be free
Running up and down Tinsel Town with the fire inside of me
My planets all in retrograde, the best of all my plans got laid
I made my breaks, and some mistakes
Just not the ones people think I made

Now I’m a long way gone
Down this wild road I’m on
It’s going to take me where I’m bound
But it’s the long way around

It’s a little hard keeping track of what’s gone wrong
The covenant unravels, and the news just rolls along
I could feel my memory letting go some two or three disasters ago
It’s hard to say which did more ill
Citizens United or the Gulf oil spill

And I’m a long way gone
Down this wild road I’m on
It’s going to take me take me where I’m bound
But it’s the long way around

It’s never been that hard to buy a gun
Now they’ll sell a Glock 19 to just about anyone
The seeds of tragedy are there
In what we feel we have the right to bear
To watch our children come to harm
There in the safety of our arms
With all we disagree about
The passions burn, the heart goes out

And we’re a long way gone
Down this wild road we’re on
It’s going to take us where we’re bound
It’s just the long way around


#235

Paul, the lyrics guy. Please keep on!


#240

I really don’t understand why you can post more than three times in this thread Paul :roll_eyes:

:sunglasses:


#241

Neither do I. I’m confused.


#242

Is it because you started/created this thread? You can test this by trying to post in a thread you didn’t start.


#243

I think you have it Mike. Only more than 3 posts in threads you created. How very strange. Feckin Forum.

I’ve never seen anything as utterly stupid. Nice one John. Your baby has turned into a monster. Mind you, it was damn ugly to begin with.


#244

‘Papa Hobo’ - Paul Simon

It’s carbon and monoxide
The ole Detroit perfume
It hangs on the highways
In the morning
And it lays you down by noon
Oh Papa Hobo
You can see that I’m dressed like a schoolboy
But I feel like a clown
It’s a natural reaction I learned
In this basketball town
Sweep up
I been sweeping up the tips I’ve made
I been living on Gatorade
Planning my getaway
Detroit, Detroit
Got a hell of a hockey team
Got a left-handed way
Of making a man sign up on that
Automotive dream, oh yeah, oh yeah
Oh Papa Papa Hobo
Could you slip me a ride?
Well, it’s just after breakfast
I’m in the road
And the weatherman lied


#245

I love this song and these lines could be my motto: “I know I ain’t doing much, doing nothing means a lot to me”.

AC/DC - Down Payment Blues

I know that it’s evil
I know that it’s gotta be
I know I ain’t doing much
Doing nothing means a lot to me
Living on a shoestring
A fifty cent millionaire
Open to charity
Rock ‘n’ roll welfare

Sitting in my Cadillac
Listening to my radio
Suzy baby get on in
Tell me where she wanna go
I’m living in a nightmare
She’s looking like a wet dream
I got myself a Cadillac
But I can’t afford the gasoline

I got holes in my shoes
And I’m way overdue
Down payment blues

Get myself a steady job
Some responsibility
Can’t even feed my cat
On social security
Hiding from the rent man
Oh it make me wanna cry
Sheriff knocking on my door
Ain’t it funny how the time flies

Sitting on my sailing boat
Sipping on my champagne
Suzy baby all at sea
Say she wanna come again
Feeling like a paper cup
Floating down a storm drain
Got myself a sailing boat
But I can’t afford a drop of rain

I got holes in my shoes
And I’m way overdue
Down payment blues


#246

#247

Bruce Springsteen

"Wreck On The Highway"

Last night I was out driving
Coming home at the end of the working day
I was riding alone through the drizzling rain
On a deserted stretch of a county two-lane
When I came upon a wreck on the highway

There was blood and glass all over
And there was nobody there but me
As the rain tumbled down hard and cold
I seen a young man lying by the side of the road
He cried Mister, won’t you help me please

An ambulance finally came and took him to Riverside
I watched as they drove him away
And I thought of a girlfriend or a young wife
And a state trooper knocking in the middle of the night
To say your baby died in a wreck on the highway

Sometimes I sit up in the darkness
And I watch my baby as she sleeps
Then I climb in bed and I hold her tight
I just lay there awake in the middle of the night
Thinking 'bout the wreck on the highway

simple lyrics but so moving…we can almost see what happens in this song !

:sunglasses:


#248

‘Some Mother’s Son’ - The Kinks

Some mother’s son lies in a field
Someone has killed some mother’s son today
Head blown up by some soldier’s gun
While all the mothers stand and wait
Some mother’s son ain’t coming home today
Some mothers son ain’t got no grave

Two soldiers fighting in a trench
One soldier glances up to see the sun
And dreams of games he played when he was young
And then his friend calls out his name
It stops his dream and as he turns his head
A second later he is dead

Some mother’s son lies in a field
Back home they put his picture in a frame
But all dead soldiers look the same
While all the parents stand and wait
To meet their children coming home from school
Some mother’s son is lying dead

Somewhere someone is crying
Someone is trying to be so brave
But still the world keeps turning
Though all the children have gone away

Some mother’s son lies in a field
But in his mother’s eyes he looks the same
As on the day he went away
They put his picture on the wall
They put flowers in the picture frame
Some mothers memory remains


#249

Love this song. Pretty sombre subject matter, but Joey Ryan had something of a cancer battle between this and the last album.


‘A Sea Of Roses’ - The Milk Carton Kids

I lose sleep at night like a young
man who’s in the fight of his young life
I have never known the way the wind would blow if everything were fine
I’m scared that when I die I’ll be
alone with no one sitting by my side
No, I do not think that I could be alone when I die

Lay me down in the ground
Put me back into the earth
Among all of my friends
Under a blanket of roses
A sea of flowers overhead

A field outside of Nashville pitches color to the dreariness of day
So the air hangs soft and tender,
blowin’ ‘round my thoughts whichever way
Where hills,
they rise for miles and miles, I recognize the cryin’ in the wind
I hear people come from everywhere
to say goodbye sweet-like to their kin

Lay me down in the ground, put me back into the earth
Among all of my friends under a blanket of roses
A sea of flowers overhead
That is right, I don’t believe anymore than skies above
It’s just me and those I’ve loved under a blanket of roses
A sea of flowers overhead
When I die