Song of Songs – extract 475 – work in progress

Guitarists writing lyrics tend to prefer
Words endlessly repeated, mirrored
Line by line, stanza by stanza
Because, perhaps, the strains of playing
Prevent the pickers from remembering
Lots of lyrics, or else the strumming
So masks the words that repetition
Is the only way to get the words heard
Sitting on a window sill
Like a nervous magician waiting in the wing
Candles blew and then disappeared
If I’m not feeling any less sour
Softly through the shadow of the evening sun
Been kicked around since I was born
Get those crazy notions right out of your head
But I never wave bye-bye
You can look but you can’t touch
Let me dirty up your mind
He said he’s going back to find what’s left
It’s not that I don’t care so
My four walls emptying through my past
Pianists, for some odd reason, tend
To pen the best lyrics, perhaps because
A pianist is more likely to enjoy
The fruits of extensive training
While lead singers, playing nothing
More complicated than a tambourine
Can offer the worst lyrical crap
Ever heard sung themselves

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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