The Big 3
Well, i figured i'd start out this little endevour by going with my three favorite songwriters (that is, with the exception of my nigga Jere).

Stingchronicity
Synchronicity II {excerpt}
Words by: Gordon Sumner
Performed by: The Police on the album Synchronicity (1983)
...is a humiliating kick in the crotch.
True, not one of Sting's most eloquent, dramatic or even clever lyrics, but this line still gets my vote as the greatest penned lyric ever.


Pete's Site
Secondhand Love {excerpt}
Words by: Pete Townshend
Performed by: Pete Townshend on the album White City: A Novel (1985)
I know you went out tonight, Who you been hangin� round this time? I don't care if he's black or white, I just don't like his kind.
Pete Townshend has always been my favorite songwriter, not only because he wrote great music, but also because of his lyrics. He can write on any subject; young angst, heartache, drugs, growing old - anything - and allow the listener to instantly relate. It was hard to pick just one PT lyric for this first installment, but this is one of my favorites. He was always at his best writing about spurned lovers.


Cup Of Wonder

Wond'ring Aloud
Words by: Ian Anderson
Performed by: Jethro Tull on the album Living In The Past (1972)
There's the stillness of death on a deathly unliving sea, And the motor car magical world long since ceased to be, When the Eve-bitten apple returned to destroy the tree. Incestuous ancestry's charabanc ride, Spawning new millions throws the world on its side. Supporting their far-flung illusion, the national curse, And those with no sandwiches please get off the bus. The excrement bubbles, the century's slime decays And the brainwashing government lackeys would have us say It's under control and we'll soon be on our way To a grand year for babies and quiz panel games Of the hot hungry millions you'll be sure to remain. The natural resources are dwindling and no one grows old, And those with no homes to go to, please dig yourself holes. We wandered through quiet lands, felt the first breath of snow. Searched for the last pigeon, slate grey I've been told. Stumbled on a daffodil which she crushed in the rush, Heard it sigh, and left it to die. At once felt remorse and were touched by the loss of our own, Held its poor broken head in her hands, Dropped soft tears in the snow. And it's only the taking that makes you what you are. Wond'ring aloud will a son one day be born To share in our infancy in the child's path we've worn. In the aging seclusion of this earth that our birth did surprise We'll open his eyes.
This is one of my favorite songs by, as i said, one of my favorite songwriters. I�d shit myself if i could write stuff like this. Hell, i don�t even know what half of this song is about, but it�s still great lyrically. And when sung by Anderson, backed by his acoustic guitar, well...



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