Best Stories Within Songs? Page 2

Quote: Scatterbrained Floozy @ December 29 2008, 10:32 PM GMT

Shouty! Even fake shouty! *hides*

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Silly Bobbyn.

*Sticks tongue out* Am not silly.

Haligh, Haligh, a Lie, Haligh by Bright Eyes.
The phone slips from a loose grip.
Words were missed, then some apology.
I didn't want to tell you this—
No, it's just some guy she's been hanging out with—
I don't know, the past couple of weeks, I guess.

Thank you and hang up the phone.
Let the funeral start, hear the casket close.
Let's pin split-black ribbon to your overcoat.
The laughter pours from under doors in this house.
I don't understand that sound no more.
Seems artificial, like a T.V. set.

Haligh, Haligh, a lie, Haligh
This weight, it must be satisfied.
You offer only one reply.
You know not what you do.
As you tear and tear your hair from roots.
Of that same head you've twice removed
Now a lock of hair you said would prove
Our love would never die.
Well, ha ha ha.

I remember everything
The words we spoke on freezing South Street
All those mornings watching you
Get ready for school.
You combed your hair inside that mirror,
The one you painted blue
And glued with jewelry tears.
Something about those bright colors
Would always make you feel better.

But now we speak with ruined tongues
And the words we say aren't meant for anyone.
It's just a mumbled sentence to
A passing acquaintance,
But there was once you.
You said you hate my suffering, and you understood,
And you'd take care of me.
You'd always be there.
Well, where are you now?

Haligh, Haligh, a lie, Haligh,
The plans were never finalized,
But left to hang like yarn and twine,
Dangling before my eyes.
As you tear and tear your hair from roots
From that same head that you have twice removed
Now, a lock of hair you said would prove
Our love would never die.
And I sing and sing of awful things
(The pleasure that my sadness brings)
As my fingers press onto the strings,
Yet another clumsy chord.

Haligh, Haligh, an awful lie.
This weight would now be satisfied.
I'm gonna give you only one reply,
I know not who I am.
But I talk in the mirror
To the stranger that appears.
Our conversations are circles
Always one sided, nothing is clear.
Except we keep coming back
To this meaning that I lack.
He says the choices were given
And now, you must live them
Or just not live,
But do you want that?

A personal favourite.

Joan was quizzical; Studies metaphysical
Science in the home.
Late nights all alone with a test tube.
Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine,
Calls her on the phone.
"Can I take you out to the pictures,
Joa, oa, oa, oan?"

But as she's getting ready to go,
A knock comes on the door.

Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Came down upon her head.
Clang! Clang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Made sure that she was dead.

Back in school again Maxwell plays the fool again.
Teacher gets annoyed.
Wishing to avoid an unpleasant
Sce, e, e, ene,

She tells Max to stay when the class has gone away,
So he waits behind
Writing fifty times "I must not be
So, o, o, o.."

But when she turns her back on the boy,
He creeps up from behind.

Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Came down upon her head.
Clang! Clang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Made sure that she was dead.

P. C. Thirty-one said, "We caught a dirty one."
Maxwell stands alone
Painting testimonial pictures.
Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Rose and Valerie, screaming from the gallery
Say he must go free
(Maxwell must go free)
The judge does not agree and he tells them
So, o, o, o.

But as the words are leaving his lips,
A noise comes from behind.

Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Came down upon his head.
Clang! Clang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Made sure that he was dead.

Whoa, oh, oh Silver hammer,

Another favourite;

New Model Army - Marrakesh

They found us in the courtyard at our table in the shade
We toasted our last few moments and then the end came
They took us back to the airstrip in that beaten up old car
And we rattled across the African scrubland in silence
Our hands locked together with cold steel cuffs
Sometimes I wish it was still that way
Now a whole world has died since then, so many faithless days
I was born alone and lucky and I'm just used to it that way
My dice still roll in sixes and yours still turn up ones
And I have taken my good fortune and I've run and run
But I always swore I'd come back for you
Is it too late now to come back for you ?
Now beneath this lonely junction on the northbound M6
We spray our words of signature on the concrete bridge
And between the words of wisdom and the slogans of despair
Someone's just gone and written 'I'm sorry' there
Well I always swore I'd come back for you
Is it too late now to come back for you?
You're the only one I'll ever love

I'm particularly found of this bit;

Now beneath this lonely junction on the northbound M6
We spray our words of signature on the concrete bridge
And between the words of wisdom and the slogans of despair
Someone's just gone and written 'I'm sorry' there

I maintain this counts as a story.

Hello, boys and girls, this is your old pal Stinky Wizzleteats. This is a
song about a whale-no! This is a song about being happy. That's right!
It's the Happy Happy Joy Joy song!

CHORUS
Happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy joy

I don't think you're happy enough. That's right! I'll teach you to be
happy. I'll teach your grandmother to suck eggs.

CHORUS

If'n you ain' the graddaddy of all liars. The little critters of nature
they don't know that they're ugly. That's very funny! A fly marrying a
bumblebee. I told you I'd shoot! But you didn't believe me. Why didn't you
believe me?

CHORUS

Happy happy happy happy
Happy happy happy happy
Happy happy joy joy joy

Last one from me;

Eric Clapton - Promises

I don't care if you never come home.
I don't mind if you just
Keep on rowin'away on a distant sea
cuz I don't love you and you don't love me.

La la la ...

Quote: PhQnix @ December 29 2008, 10:15 PM GMT

Not cross-referencing your sources? Where the hell do you think we are? Wikipedia?!

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Burning Joan by Blyth Power

I was a yeoman and I was a soldier
When I sailed from Dover the weather was fine
For Loval and Launceston Sir Thomas of Taunton
For Ranolf and Rudall my comrades and I

But I earned my spurs as a turnkey
For St George and a farthing a day
My battles were fought through the dungeons and vaults
My enemies battered with pulley's and chains

But shock-headed Joan was my beauty
She was my jewel and my prize
Scratching her tits in the blood and the shit
Plucking the lice from her thoroughbred thighs

Sometimes at her cell I would linger
To watch while she crouched in the straw
I'd be stroking her hair and she'd sullenly glare
But she never acknowledged my presence at all

So I shed no tears as the brazier crackled and rang
The arquebusiers and the flower of chivalry sang

Oh Joannie oh Joannie the tumbrel and the pony
Through the ranks of the yeomanry steer
The gallows is cold and the gibbet is lonely
We'll make things hot for you here

See I thought that I was her friend and protector
Compassion I readily gave
And oft of a while sympathetically smiled
As the callous inquisitors hammered away

But she never returned my affection
Nor ever my homage received
And since in my dreams as she spatters and screams
I secretly doubt she was thinking of me

As the flames licked her arse and her belly
For she never a glimmer betrayed
So I cast off my conscience I joined with the band
And I fiddled while Joan burned away

One by me

More of a poem lol...

Now gather 'round and you will see,
A weird story, rhymed poorly by me.
In this tale, there will be, a bit o'magic,
A monster and a girl named Bee.
Bee does not bumble, she does not buzz,
she walks and talks, just like us.
But there is one difference from you and me,
something lurks, beneath her Christmas tree...

Once upon a time, in a land of frosty balls,
Lived a town full of people, always sucking on Halls (Soother's)
Sore throats, sore noses and even sore chests,
Nipples were hard on all of their breasts.

Now up on the hill, there was a tiny house,
not that small though, it wasn't for a mouse.
In this home, sat the hero to be,
the girl from the first verse, the girl named Bee.
But Bee wasn't happy and sad she did look,
for on top of the tree, was an empty hook.
Her parents forbid her to hang things from there,
it was to be left empty, alone and bare.

When it was night and the whole town was sleeping,
Bee was awake, and from her bed she was creeping,
Down the stairs, quietly she snook,
Towards the forbidden Christmas tree hook.

The tree was nice, but something was missing,
There was no glow, it was not glistening.
Gifts and presents filled the floor,
When suddenly there was a mighty roar.

Back she fell, with a bump on the head,
She was not moving, she was not dead.
Her eyes slowly opened, to the sound of a titter,
Looming over her, was the Fairy Gary Glitter.

She tried to scream, but no noise she could make,
She pulled at his hair, but found it was fake.
She kicked and she scratched but could not break free,
Was this the end for our beloved Bee?

He leaned in closer and began to speak,
The dirty bastard, breath did reek,
"From that hook you shall hang,
And forevermore be in my gang".

The morning light began to break,
As all the towns folk began to wake.
And the tiny house, up on the hill,
With the all the people it did fill.

They gathered 'round a Christmas tree,
Smiling sweetly was our friend Bee.
And then she began to let out a titter,
Revealing the decapitated head of Gary Glitter.

Echo Nil and Marrakesh and yes, those exact 4 lines resonate with me too and feels to me to be the natural climax to the song. Totally beautiful in its sense of loss and despair. http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=cfTA6OJMm2k

Agree with Soots on Maxwell. Macca loves stories in song.

I'd say Peter Gabriel in his concept album heyday - the whole double LP of Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is a weird intereting tale and many songs from the albums Foxtrot, Nursery Crymes, and Selling England by the Pound. As individual songs, Harold the Barrel, Lilywhite Lilith, and Lamia come to mind.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=d1wvvz2oO9A - Lamia, where the hero gets jiggy in an underground cavern with three serpent sisters to a pomp-rock backdrop. Yeah, we've all been there, guys. Guys? Guys?

the whole Queensryche - Operation: Mindcrime thingie... as well as Dream Theater - Scenes from A Memory and WASP - Crimson Idol, both are awesome as hell. King Diamond stuff from the 1980s was great.

Oooh, I love concept albums.

Quote: SlagA @ December 30 2008, 4:07 PM GMT

Echo Nil and Marrakesh and yes, those exact 4 lines resonate with me too and feels to me to be the natural climax to the song. Totally beautiful in its sense of loss and despair. http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=cfTA6OJMm2k

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Have a hug.

The late, great Ian Dury:

BILLERICAY DICKIE
(from the album "New Boots and Panties")

Good evening, I'm from Essex
In case you couldn't tell
My given name is Dickie
I come from Billericay
And I'm doing very well

Had a love affair with Nina
In the back of my cortina
A seasoned-up hyena
Could not have been more obscener
She took me to the cleaners
And other misdemeanours
But I got right up between her
Rum and her Ribena

Well, you ask Joyce and Vicky
If candy-floss is sticky
I'm not a blinking thicky
I'm Billericay Dickie
And I'm doing very well

I bought a lot of Brandy
When I was courting Sandy
Took eight to make her randy
And all I had was shandy
Another thing with Sandy
What often came in handy
Was passing her a mandy
She didn't half go bandy

So, you ask Joyce and Vicky
If I ever took the mickey
I'm not a flipping thicky
I'm Billericay Dickie
And I'm doing very well

I'd rendez-vous with Janet
Quite near the Isle of Thanet
She looked more like a gannet
She wasn't half a prannet
Her mother tried to ban it
Her father helped me plan it
And when I captured Janet
She bruised her pomegranate

Oh, you ask Joyce and Vicky
If I ever shaped up tricky
I'm not a blooming thicky
I'm Billericay Dickie
And I'm doing very well

You should never hold a candle
If you don't know where it's been
The jackpot is in the handle
On a normal fruit machine

So, you ask Joyce and Vicky
Who's their favourite brickie
I'm not a common thicky
I'm Billericay Dickie
And I'm doing very well

I know a lovely old toe-rag
Obliging and noblesse
Kindly, charming shag from Shoeburyness
My given name is Dickie
I come from Billericay
I thought you'd never guess

So, you ask Joyce and Vicky
A pair of squeaky chickies
I'm not a flaming thicky
I'm Billericay Dicky
And I'm doing very well

Oh golly, oh gosh
Come and lie on the couch
With a nice bit of posh
From Burnham-on-Crouch
My given name is Dickie
I come from Billericay
And I ain't a slouch

So, you ask Joyce and Vicky
About Billericay Dickie
I ain't an effing thicky
You ask Joyce and Vicky
I'm doing very well

Quote: SlagA @ December 30 2008, 4:07 PM GMT

I'd say Peter Gabriel in his concept album heyday - the whole double LP of Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is a weird intereting tale and many songs from the albums Foxtrot, Nursery Crymes, and Selling England by the Pound. As individual songs, Harold the Barrel, Lilywhite Lilith, and Lamia come to mind.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=d1wvvz2oO9A - Lamia, where the hero gets jiggy in an underground cavern with three serpent sisters to a pomp-rock backdrop. Yeah, we've all been there, guys. Guys? Guys?

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Totally agree SlagA... The Gabriel era Genesis was extremely creative in every way... those Lamia appealed to my nascent hormones in what were my early teenage years:

"Putting fear beside him, he trusts in beauty blind,
He slips into the nectar, leaving his shredded clothes behind.
With their tongues, they test, taste and judge all that is mine.
They move in a series of caresses
That glide up and down my spine."

Oooh er... missus !!!!

Here's a segment of a verse from a song called 'Uncommon Valour', by a little-known Hip hop group called Jedi Mind Tricks. This verse was written by a white MC called RA the Rugged Man, who guest-featured on the track. Back in the mid-'90s, he was all set to become the next big thing, but was blackballed from the industry, for his somewhat erratic behaviour. His father fought in Vietnam, and this verse is written from his perspective. It's particularly poignant, because two of his siblings were born handicapped, as a result of his father being exposed to the infamous "Agent Orange" gas.

Bang, bang, bullet hit my chest, feel no pain
To my left, the Captain caught a bullet right in his brain
Body parts flying, loss of limbs, explosions
Bad intentions, I see my best friend's intestines
Pray to the one above, it's raining and I'm covered in mud
I think I'm dying, I feel dizzy, I'm losing blood
I see my childhood, I'm back in the arms of my mother
I see my whole life, I see Christ, I see bright lights
I see Israelites, Muslims and Christians at peace, no fights
Blacks, Whites, Asians, people of all types
I must have died, then I woke up, surprised I'm alive
I'm in a hospital bed, they rescued me, I survived
I escaped the war, came back
But ain't escape Agent Orange, two of my kids born handicapped
Spastic, quadriplegic, micro cephallic
Cerebral palsy, cortical blindness, name it they had it
My son died he ain't live, but I still try to think positive
Cause in life, God take, God give.

Here's the full song: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=7r0KpWMNxnM