THE POWER OF LYRICS

Felcitations devoted readers,

I bring you news and thoughts that may inspire or affect you as you see fit.

I have come across a story that made me think of just how powerful our words really are.
It behoves us all to ignore the proverb "sticks and stones' because it is patent rubbish. Words matter. They start wars and demonstrate love and everything we do is mediated by what we say and the way we say it.

Think of how these words have been appropriated and given new meaning and nuance - Nigger, Gay, Wog, Motherfucker, love, hate, queer, not. The list is endless but you see my point?

With that in mind I wanted to turn to lyrics and how they affect us. I am sure you have a favourite line from a song - Try these - "Out of my brain on the 5-15" or "I Don't give a damn I don't fucking care, Going kill my mum and dad and cut off all my hair," or "Hope, I wish you'd believe me." Or try Opera and take the interminable dirge that is Peter Grimes - " FISH, fish , fishermand, or "Oh Lord, forgive my bitter weeping" or "My tiny hand is frozen". And so it goes on.

As afficionado's of the musical librettists you will no doubt feel that I am labouring the point but I give you the following poem by way of apology. It was written by someone who was a witness to an unsolved murder on New Years Eve 07. This person has written the poem and posted it all over his estate in Bristol so that no one is in any doubt who the murderer is. His name has been removed from here but no doubt he will be singing your songs in jail. Makes a change from the dull apolgy for lyrics that most failed gangsta rappers pretend is "real".

Perhaps this should be the foundation for your next song

Adieu mes amies.


Now I will show how a few words can be made
As sharp and deadly as any boy's blade
How running away will not you save
The truth is there like an open grave


You can wipe your bloody hands in the grass, till they bleed...

A defenceless man is dead and his blood's gone cold
But the story of his end is going to be told


You can run and run till your shoes wear thin
And hope that you're safe, 'cos of the colour of your skin
Paul Kelly lies dead, and who held the knife?
It was you, [name removed], we all saw take his life.

The New Year was but a short hour old
When you and your mates were: Oh, so bold.
You put us to shame,
But we did the same.

It was black on white, so it must be right
It was you who said: 'He had it coming that night.'
Then you ran away and we turned our backs.
You said we would be next if we breathed a word
We took in you threats that now sound absurd

So we closed our eyes
And took in your lies

So where will you run when, at last, you face a brave man?
You gonna run once more through the streets, all a quiver?

Will wash yourself down in the deep, deep river?
Yow, young [name removed], where you threw the knife,
Listen to what I say and take good heed:
You can wipe your bloody hands in the grass, till they bleed...
But you will never, never get them clean.