Monday, June 18, 2012

First Dafts

I'm given to believe that writing lyrics is as much knowing what to leave out as it is what to include. A good song is a well edited song. And I can only imagine the first drafts that we never got to hear... 




In the clearing stands a boxer
And a schnauzer and a pug....
 
Riding on the City Of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
3 conductors and a partridge in a pear tree

My mother was a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
My father was a rumblin' man
God, how he loved his beans
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
Like sugar in my ear
I once was lost. That's now compound
'Cause now I cannot hear
...and she rushed out to brush the snow away so it wouldn't die
And I chided her basic misunderstanding of botany
First, the tree, at this point, is dormant and cold won't matter
Second, snow has an insulating effect making the ground....

hmmmm. is "hottany" a word? this isn't working 



  


If a picture paints a thousand words
Then why can't I paint you?
If I promise not get paint in your eyes and mouth? 
Tell me, would that do?

3 comments:

  1. a friend and I were listening to Paul Simon the other day and I marvel when someone puts a song together and does it with what appears to be such ease.
    I am envious of the ability of great words.
    She was physically forgotten
    And then she slipped into my pocket
    With my car keys
    She said you've taken me for granted
    Because I please you

    Well, hot and heavy, pumpkin pie
    Chocolate candy, Jesus Christ
    Ain't nothing please me more than you

    Ah, home, let me go home
    Home is wherever I'm with you
    Ah, home, let me go home
    Home is wherever I'm with you

    amazing.....

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  2. I know EXACTLY what you mean, M. I think part of the reason I'm stuck writing melodies without lyrics is because I admire good lyrics SO much I have unrealistic standards for my own attempts.

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  3. In my next life- my father was a newspaper man and a fine man with words, they were his life.
    I can not write with the spontaneity that I would love to have.
    And then when it comes from others- it knocks me flat.
    But you write so well I would love to hear you do some song writing.

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