Lyrics are Poetry

www.lyricsarepoetry.com

I just setup a new blog to handle the lyrics postings. So from now on all lyrics will be posted there. I will probably make reference to updates here but it wouldn’t make any sense to double post.

It’s a bit of an experiment with a few underlying things and I still have a few rough edges to knock off but please take a look and add it to your bookmarks…

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Dear Mr. President

Dear Mr. President
PINK

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let’s pretend we’re just two people and
You’re not better than me
I’d like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why?

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
How can you say
No child is left behind?
We’re not dumb and we’re not blind
They’re all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter’s rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You’ve come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don’t know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Dear Mr. President
You’d never take a walk with me
Would you?

See Also: Pink’s Website, George W. Bush, Whiskey and Cocaine

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Oo De lally

Oo De Lally

Robin Hood and Little John
Walkin’ through the forest
Laughin’ back and forth
At what the other’ne has to say
Reminiscin’, This-‘n’-thattin’
Havin’ such a good time
Oo-de-lally, Oo-de-lally
Golly, what a day

Never ever thinkin’ there was danger in the water
They were drinkin’, they just guzzled it down
Never dreamin’ that a schemin’ sheriff and his posse
Was a-watchin’ them an’ gatherin’ around
Robin Hood and Little John
Runnin’ through the forest
Jumpin’ fences, dodgin’ trees
An’ tryin’ to get away
Contemplatin’ nothin’
But escape an’ fin’lly makin’ it
Oo-de-lally, Oo-de-lally
Golly, what a day

Oo-de-lally, Oo-de-lally
Golly, what a day

See Also: Roger Miller Website

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Feed the Birds

I always loved this song, however, while reading it don’t think about throwing bits of bread to vermin disease infested pigeons, but think of starving children around the world instead…

Feed the Birds
Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman

Early each day to the steps of Saint Paul’s
The little old bird woman comes
In her own special way to the people she call,
“Come, buy my bags full of crumbs
Come feed the little birds,
Show them you care
And you’ll be glad if you do
Their young ones are hungry
Their nests are so bare
All it takes is tuppence from you
Feed the birds, tuppence a bag
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag
Feed the birds,” that’s what she cries
While overhead, her birds fill the skies

All around the cathedral the saints and apostles
Look down as she sells her wares
Although you can’t see it,
You know they are smiling
Each time someone shows that he cares

Though her words are simple and few
Listen, listen, she’s calling to you
“Feed the birds, tuppence a bag
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag”

Though her words are simple and few
Listen, listen, she’s calling to you
“Feed the birds, tuppence a bag
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag”

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These Days

These Days

I was walking around, just a face in the crowd
Trying to keep myself out of the rain
Saw a vagabond king wear a styrofoam crown
Wondered if I might end up the same
There’s a man out on the corner
Singing old songs about change
Everybody got their cross to bare, these days

She came looking for some shelter with a suitcase full of dreams
To a motel room on the boulevard
Guess she’s trying to be James Dean
She’s seen all the disciples and all the ‘wanna be’s’
No one wants to be themselves these days
Still theres nothing to hold on to but these days
Continue reading “These Days”

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