Song Lyrics From Poets Quotes

Chance is your god
Though you're falling free you will land hard ~ Criss Jami

I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl,
From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl,
I'd love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl,
But I'm never warm enough for my lovely summer girl,
It's summer when she smiles, I'm laughing like a child,
It's the summer of our lives; we'll contain it for a while
She holds the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand
I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

There's a lot of craft in songwriting. The divine inspiration is when the idea comes. It may be a riff. It may be a word. It may be a phrase. It may be a title. Sometimes, in the best of both worlds, that divine inspiration extends through the whole song. I've literally sat down and written a song from beginning to end, almost complete lyrics and everything without ever stopping ... in two minutes. The chorus of 'She's Gone' was like that.. ~ John Oates

I used to listen to music from the frosting down. As a word nerd, lyrics are really important to me, and then the melody. Playing in the Rock*A*Teens was the first time I ever heard music from the bottom up. I was hearing songs I'd heard a million times on oldies radio, and I'd be like, "Wow, listen to what the bass is doing!" When I was first singing in bands, I'd just get out there with my machete, wildly whacking away at the foliage. But you learn how to listen. When I feel I'm doing it right, it's 90% listening and 10% output. It's not "look what I can do!" ~ Kelly Hogan

I don't really like this song," Emma had said.
"You told me it was your favourite."
"It's beautiful. But it always makes me sad."
"Why, love?" he'd asked gently. "It's about finding each other again. About someone coming home."
Emma had lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him earnestly. "It's about losing someone, and having to wait until you're together in heaven."
"There's nothing in the lyrics about heaven," he'd said.
"But that's what it means. I can't bear the idea of being separated from you, for a lifetime or a year or even a day. So you mustn't go to heaven without me."
"Of course not," he had whispered. "It wouldn't be heaven without you. ~ Lisa Kleypas

A song and a smile from someone I cared about could be enough to distract me from all that darkness, if only for a little while. ~ Ransom Riggs

If I learned to play guitar it was so that I would have something to sing to, if I learned to write a song it was so that I would have something to sing. So the gut feeling you're talking about comes from singing and communicating the lyrics and what it is that we feel. ~ Brandi Carlile

I've got pages and pages of snippets of stuff, and if Max [Hershenow] sends me a track to write to I'll go through all the stuff and the initial reaction of gut and how it makes me feel and I'll sort of go from there and start pulling my favourite pieces of my lyrics and that will be a very literal word collage and from there I'll sculpt it for and whatever reason the song sort of presents itself. It's a bizarre process. ~ Lizzy Plapinger

I am not a music snob. If anything, my musical taste is bad by any critical standards. My favorite song of all time is "Come On Eileen" by Dexys Midnight Runners. A close second is "MMMBop" by Hansen. So I am not out there claiming any musical superiority, but Creed really does suck. Bad music, pretentious lyrics, and a messianic front man. Also they are from Flordia. No good rock music has ever come from Flordia. Undoubtedly, there will be legions of offended readers who think to themselves, What are you talking about! Such-and-such band is from Flordia and they're freaking awesome! No, whatever band you are thinking of, if they are from Flordia, they suck. Not as much as Creed, but they still suck. ~ Michael Ian Black

I was totally involved in Bobby's World from the time we started the idea to sitting with the artists on how he would look, to the script meetings, the music, the lyrics, the songs. ~ Howie Mandel

Music is reflection of self
We just explain it, and then we get our checks in the mail
It's fucked up, ain't it?
How we can come from practically nothin
To bein able to have any f*ckin thing that we wanted
That's why we sing for these kids who don't have a thing
Except for a dream and a f*ckin rap magazine
Who post pin-up pictures on they walls all day long
Idolize they favorite rappers and know all they songs
Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in they lives
So they sit and they cry, at night, wishin they'd die
Til they throw on a rap record and they sit and they vibe
We're nothin to you, but we're the f*ckin sh*t in they eyes
That's why we seize the moment
Try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and hold it
Cause we consider these minutes golden
And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone
Just let our spirits live on
Through our lyrics that you hear in our songs, and we can… ~ Eminem

Closing my eyes, I then focused in on the lyrics. I couldn't help thinking how much the song meant to me because of Maddie. She had caught me when I'd fallen and saved me from the epic storm of grief just like the lyrics said. I wasn't drowning in sadness anymore. Instead I was drowning in her-her smile, her beauty, her giving heart and beautiful spirit. ~ Katie Ashley

That was my intention, was to have it be from the perspective of my high-school-aged self, and to try and emulate the music that I listened to at that time. So to write essentially like a pop-punk song about musicals. I wanted the dichotomy of the tone of the music with the lyrics and my singing voice. ~ Laura Benanti

JAMIE'S SONG 'WHERE YOU ARE':

I left my heart at your door,
Don't tread on it on your way out.
It's convulsing on the floor,
Can't you hear it scream and shout?

I dropped my life by your feet,
Don't kick it as you walk down the street.
I put my dreams in your hand,
Don't let them slip through your fingers like grains of sand.

And my eyes will watch you from afar,
Guide you like a shooting star.

And you'll see that I'll always be where you are.
Where you are.
Yes, you know that I'll always be where you are.

Yes my eyes will watch you from afar,
Guide you like a shooting star.
And you'll see that I'll always be where you are.
Where you are. ~ Neha Yazmin

Finally I started really opening up as a songwriter and an interpreter and taking songs from all kind of genres and stripping them down to just lyrics and the story inside the lyrics, and trying to make them really mine. ~ Lizz Wright

JAMIE'S SONG 'ONE HALF':

I wish you wouldn't try,
to find me where I hide.
I am fine where I reside,
So please don't follow.

I wish you wouldn't cry,
can't bear that in your eyes.
I am more than terrified.
Please say you won't go.

If I could make two of me,
you would get one half.
But there's only one of me,
and that's more than enough.

I wish you wouldn't want from me,
what I cannot give.
I wish you could be satisfied,
with what you now receive.

There is only one of me,
and I belong to her.
If I live another life,
hope you come before her. ~ Neha Yazmin

What kids are doing are killing themselves
They feel they have no control of their prisoner's cell
And if you're one of them then you're one of me
And you would do almost anything just to feel free...- From the song Fake You Out ~ Twenty One Pilots

Be my secret. Be my joy. Be a miracle to me." From the song MIRACLE TO ME, from the album LIONS, by THE BLACK CROWES. ~ The Black Crowes

I live alone in a house, so for me it's very good to just be able to re-charge and just disappear and escape from reality and that's usually when I write most of my lyrics and my songs. It's a very happy productive place. ~ Adam Young

Tonight the song you always despised strides from the jukebox full-bodied and you hear the lyrics for the first time, understand the lyrics for the first time after all these years. This new you with an older soul. Now it's your favorite. All this time singing the wrong words. ~ Colson Whitehead

Even if the weather's nice I don't feel nice
It seems like the weather's mocking me
I fall into a situation where
I can't deal with the anger and I struggle
The world apart from me is running fine
You're living well
It's not fair, this isn't fair
I feel like people walking past me think I'm pitiful
I can't do anything right ~ Hyuna

While you're singing something romantic, I can't get the lyrics to 'Love and Marriage' out of my head, and that tune always reminds me of the jingle from Jeopardy. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends. ~ Shel Silverstein

From the depths of hell,
So far I fell,
A deal made with the devil,
After all the dust had settled,
There's an hourglass of time,
Counting down all of our lives,
And with every grain of sand,
Time is slipping through my hands. ~ Falling In Reverse

Straining to hear, I can make out something acoustic. Coming from...the backyard?

I glance down from my bedroom window and feel my jaw fall open. Matt Finch is standing below my window, guitar strapped across his chest. I pull my window up, and I expect the song from that old movie - the one about a guy with a trench coat and the big radio and his heart on his sleeve.

But it's not that. It's not anything I recognise, and I strain to make out the lyrics: Stop being ridiculous, stop being ridiculous, Reagan.

What an asshole.

The mesh screen and two floors between us don't seem like enough to protect him from my anger.

"Nice apology," I call down to him.
"I've apologised thirteen times," he yells back, "and so far you haven't called me back."

I open my mouth to say it doesn't matter, but he's already redirecting the song.

"Now I'm gonna stand here until you forgive me," he sings loudly, "or at least until you hear me out, la-la, oh-la-la. I drove seven hours overnight, and I won't leave until you come out here."

(...) "This is private property!" My throat feel coarse from how loudly I'm yelling. "And that doesn't even rhyme!"

The guitar chord continues as he sings, "Then call the cops, call the cops, call the cops..."

I storm downstairs, my feet pounding against the staircase. When I turn the corner, my dad looks almost amused from his seat in the recliner. Noticing ~ Emery Lord

By the second day, the song lyrics had faded, but in their place came darker irritations. Gradually, I started to become aware of a young man sitting just behind me and to the left. I had noticed him when he first entered the mediation hall, and had felt a flash of annoyance at the time: something about him, especially his beard, had struck me as too calculatedly dishevelled, as if he were trying to make a statement. Now his audible breathing was starting to irritate me, too. It seemed studied, unnatural, somehow theatrical. My irritation slowly intensified - a reaction that struck me as entirely reasonable and proportionate at the time. It was all beginning to feel like a personal attack. How much contempt must the bearded meditator have for me, I seethed silently, deliberately to decide to ruin the serenity of my meditation by behaving so obnoxiously? Experienced retreat-goers, it turns out, have a term for this phenomenon. The call it 'vipassana vendetta'. In the stillness tiny irritations become magnified into full-blown hate campaigns; the mind is so conditioned to attaching to storylines that it seizes upon whatever's available. Being on retreat had temporarily separated me from all the real causes of distress in my life, and so, apparently, I was inventing new ones. As I shuffled to my narrow bed that evening, I was still smarting about the loud-breathing man. I did let go of the vendetta eventually - but only because I'd fallen into an exhausted and dreamless sleep ~ Oliver Burkeman

We sang, nearly shouting the lyrics, the wind clipping at our voices. They say a song can be a bridge, Ma. But I say it's also the ground we stand on. And maybe we sing to keep ourselves from falling. Maybe we sing to keep ourselves. ~ Ocean Vuong

Ridge: I'm only going to say this once, Sydney. Are you ready? Me: Oh, God. No. I'm turning off my phone. Ridge: I know where you live. Me: Fine. Ridge: You're incredible. Those lyrics. I can't even describe to you how perfect they are for the song. How in the hell does that come out of you? And why can't you see that you need to LET it come out of you? Don't hold it in. You're doing the world a huge disservice with your modesty. I know I agreed not to ask you for more, but that was because I really didn't expect to get what I got from you. I need more. Give me, give me, give me. ~ Colleen Hoover

I change lyrics to the songs all the time, too. I don't know if it matters in a lot of ways because you can take what you want from it. ~ Matt Corby

I would say the songs that have different lyrics. I always write the music first, and there's a couple of songs on this box set that have different lyrics from what ended up on the final recording. ~ Billy Joel

When I was 3 or 4, I seemed to be bursting with music. They played Ella Fitzgerald, Count Basie, Frank Sinatra in the house, so I learned my vocabulary from song lyrics - I was literally singing before I was talking. ~ Dan Hill

I took the sing from your song. I made a bed where you don't belong. ~ Ben Howard

I came to view the world as a word puzzle and, with no special aptitude I can name, fixed on the whys and wherefores of language from my earliest days. Song lyrics. Signs. The stories read in first and second grades. My parents almost always read to us at bedtime. Poems by Whittier. Scenes from Oliver Twist. Kidnapped. Treasure Island. The names alone intrigued me. Dr. Livesey, Squire Trelawney. The name Balfour sounded the knell of the romantic. Robinson Crusoe. I loved to hear read the exploits of Natty Bumppo. Authors had an aura of the godlike to me. The Latin prayers fascinated me as an altar boy. I can still recall carved names on buildings I saw from the MTA train when I was a youngster. Who can explain why? Words were magic to me. I once inadvisably glued my finger and thumb together at the Magoun Library in fourth grade trying to amuse a pretty little girl on whom I had a crush, and when the librarian came over angrily to inquire what the problem was and I pointed with a shrug and replied, "Mucilage" - a word that always made me laugh - she very coldly stated, "You are more to be pitied than censured. ~ Alexander Theroux

It was the lyrics from PartyNextDoor's song Come and See Me featuring Drake: "I'll admit I'm sorry when I feel I'm truly sorry. Things change, people change, feelings change, too. Never thought the circumstances would've changed you. ~ Bree

Apart from the sampler, though, I still hadn't heard the songs that were on the short-list for Frank and Amy seemed a bit reticent about letting me listen to them. Maybe she thought lyrics like 'the only time I hold your hand is to get the angle right' might shock me or that I'd embarrass her. I teased her after I'd finally heard the song. 'I want to ask you a question,' I said. 'That song "In My Bed" when you sing - ' 'Dad! I don't want to talk about it! ~ Mitch Winehouse

So Jason, in England, do you eat these 'Farmer burgers?'" Wong Tong asked.
"Farmer burgers? I don't know what they are?"
"Maybe I have the name wrong. I remember the name from the song," Wong Tong explained.
"What song?" Jason asked.
"You know the 'E, I, E, I, O' song."
'E, I, E, I, O' song?
Jason started to roar with laughter. He tried to speak but was laughing, much to the annoyance of Wong Tong. He held his chest, laughing still hurt his ribs.
"You mean the 'Old Macdonald had a farm' song. You mean Macdonald's burgers," he said, laughing. "Yes, I have had them. They're good. ~ Mark A. Cooper

I'm passing the bar
Where you first got in my car
I'm not ashamed to admit
That it's you I won't forget

I saved your cigarettes and
Bad habits I regret
But the hours flew by like clouds
Whenever I had you around

Parachute lover
Take me away
From the plane that went crashing
And the earth that's in flames

Saving you is saving me
High above the redwood trees
But down below I see shadows
And parachute debris

We're drifting like children
Along for the ride
Each time we find love
Another parachute arrives

Our madness will burn
As bright as the sun
And I'll keep finding lovers
But you were the one ~ Crystal Woods

From time to time
I once wondered how one wanders from time to time
And think up the paradox line
Speak of Epoch's crime
Oh I lied, it hasn't happened yet
But bet you better believe it's such a habit that
I just said that in a past mindset ~ Criss Jami

A lot of Woody Guthrie's songs were taken from other songs. He would rework the melody and lyrics, and all of a sudden it was a Woody Guthrie song. ~ John Mellencamp