Thursday, October 30, 2008

Dead Love Song*

Well my baby's a zombie,
I hit him ten times in the face
And he didn't feel a thing.
We knew we were dying,
Decided to fight it
But he up and walked
and I still feel the sting.

Where's all your peacocks and 
teacakes and teapots?
When you fall, your chin hits the ground.
I know in the end everything will get broken,
but we could still sit back and 
enjoy the sound.

He rose, well he rose up
From grandaddy's grasses
Decided that he oughta be a man.
But these days he's stirring  
his tea with the ashes 
Of all the things he thought he'd
play by the plans.

Where are your elephants,
Lions and ivory?
When you fire, your shot hits the ground.
I know in the end everything will get broken,
but we could still sit back and 
enjoy the sound.

It's better than rotting away,
it's better than rotting away.
You can't dance with a zombie, but baby believe me,
I would have tried anyway.

My babe was a zombie,
I hit him ten times in the face
And he didn't feel a thing.
We knew we were dying,
Decided to fight it
But he up and walked
and boy, I felt the sting.

It was better than rotting away,
better than rotting away.
I'm sorry you're sad and I'm sad you're not sorry,
But maybe it's best you don't stay.





*Or, "Haley attempts to write something resembling a song and probably makes a fool of herself in the process but oh well it's just a dumb blog"

1 comment:

Jennifer said...

I think all songs should be written in October. I didn't plan for mine to have haunted houses and ghosts and things, but I've enjoyed be a little goth girl.
After I got over the original temptation to sing the whole thing as a 12 bar blues song ("well my baby's a zombie, I hit him ten times in the face [X3], when he finally looked me in the eye he said, "mmmnneuuuhhhh."), I found it enthralling. Highlights:

peacocks/teacakes/ivory-makes me feel like I'm in the 18th century and some ballyhoo might be involved

grandaddy's grasses - what a great combination of words. They just sound so fantastic together.

I'm jealous of your ability to write non-literal/linear lyrics. I find my self limited to similes or very short metaphor. I end up explaining too much.