Shout-out to some of my favorite lyricists today. These guys can write and make music and that's something special.

Colin Meloy, of The Decemberists.

Billy Liar
Billy Liar's got his hands in his pockets
Staring over at the neighbor's, knickers down.
He's got his knickers down.

So the summer is eternity for you?
Sleeping in until your father's shaking you down
He's shaking you down.

And the mailroom shift gets a real short shrift
As you dole out the packages, no-one seems to want you around
All skulking around.

Let you legs loss on the lino
'Til your sinews spoil
Will you stay here for a while, dear,
'Til the radio plays something familiar?
Plays something familiar.

All a-drifting, he's a nogood boyo
Sent a-fishing for a whalebone corset frame
(His only catch all day)

So he sits and lets the current take him
A gentle breeze will leave his pants in disarray
And at his ankles laid.

As he drifts to sleep with a moan and a weep
He is decked by a Japanese geisha with a garland of pearls
How she twists and twirls!

Let you legs loss on the lino
'Til your sinews spoil
Will you stay here for a while, dear,
'Til the radio plays something familiar?
Plays smoething familiar.


Ted Leo, of Ted Leo and The Pharmacists

The Ballad of the Sin Eater

when you run, digger, runner,
listener, thief, you carry it all with you.
today i woke up uncertain,
and you know that gives me the fits,
so i left this land of fungible convictions
because it seemed like the pits.
and when i say, "conviction" i mean it's something to endure
and when i say "uncertain" i mean to doubt i'll not turn out a caricature.
so i set off in search of my forebears,
coz my forbearance was in need,
but the only job i could get in dear old blighty
was working on the railway between selby and leeds.
so i took a ferry to belfast, where i had cause to think:
they wanted none of my arm-chair convictions
but nobody seemed to mind when i was putting on the drinks!
and you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
ah, but they hate you, and they hate you 'coz you're guilty,
so...i stayed out all night in ibiza,
by way of san sebastian, where they said
'yanque, you better watch what you're saying, unless you're sayin'
it in basque or in catalan!"
so all the way east to novi-sad,
where narry a bridge was to be seen,
but mother russia, she laid her pontoons on down,
so i crossed over, if you know what i mean...
then on the road to damascus, yes,
the scales, they fell from my eyes,
and the simplest lesson i learned at the mount of olices: everybody lies.
and the french foreign legion
you know they did their best - but i never believed in t.e.
lawrence, so how the hell could i believe in beau gest?
and you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
you didnt think they could hate you, now did you?
you didnt think they could hate you, now did you?
ah, but they hate you, and they hate you 'coz you're guilty,
so...i spent a night in kigali in a five diamond hotel,
where maybe someday, they'll do the wa-tutsi down in hutu hell.
and i fell in with a merchant marine who promised to take me home,
but when i woke up beaten and bloodied,
i couldn't tell if it was jersey or sierra leone!
and you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
you didn't think they could have you, now did you?
ah, but they hate you, and they hate you coz you're guilty...
and the knocking in my head, just like the knocking at my door.
and maybe it was me or maybe it was my brother,
but either me or me and him went down to the bar,
where i got seven powers in me for to give me the cure,
but when seven powers failed to spin me,
i had to get me seven more.
and when i say, "me" i mean my brain.
and when i say "give me the cure" i mean to kill the pain.
and when i say "kill the pain" i meant to get the devil out.
and when i say "devil" i mean the manifestation of doubt!
and you didnt think they could hate you,
now did you you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
you didn't think they could hate you, now did you?
ah, but they hate you, make no mistake - they hate you...

Ben Gibbard, of Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service.

We Looked Like Giants
God bless the daylight
the sugary smell of springtime
Remembering when you were mine
In a still suburban town
When every Thursday I'd brave those mountain passes
and you'd skip your early classes
And we'd learn how our bodies worked
God damn the black night with all of its foul temptations
I've become what I've always hated when I was with you then
We looked like giants in the back of my gray subcompact
fumbling to make contact as the others slept inside
And together there in a shroud of frost
the mountain air began to pass through
every pane of weathered glass
and I held you closer then anyone would ever get
do you remember the JAMC and reading aloud from magazines?
I dont know about you, but I swear on my name
They could smell it on me
and Ive never been too good with secrets

Album of the Day: The American Analog Set - Promise of Love