Charles Bukowski - Me and Faulkner lyrics
[Charles Bukowski - Me and Faulkner lyrics]
Sure, I know that you are
Tired of hearing about it, But
Most repeat the same theme
Over and over again, It's
As if they were trying to
Refine what seems so strange
And off and important to them
It's done by everybody
Because everybody is of a
Different stripe and form
And each must work out what is before them
Over and over again because
That is their personal tiny miracle
Their bit of luck
Like now as like before and
Before I have been slowly
Drinking this fine red wine and
Listening to symphony after
Symphony from this black radio to my left
Some symphonies remind me of certain
Cities and certain rooms
Make me realize that certain people now
Long dead were able to transgress graveyards
And traps and cages and bones and limbs
People who broke through with joy
And madness and with insurmountable force
In tiny rented rooms I was struck by miracles
And even now after decades of listening
I still am able to hear
A new work never heard before that is totally
Bright, a fresh-blazing sun
There are countless sub-stratas of
Rising surprise from the human firmament
Music has an expansive and
Endless flow of ungodly exploration
Writers are confined to the limit of
Sight and feeling upon the
Page while musicians leap
Into unrestricted immensity
Right now it's just old Tchaikowsky
Moaning and groaning his
Way through symphony #5
But it's just as good as
When I first heard it
I haven't heard one of
My favorites, Eric Coates, For some time
But I know that if I keep
Drinking the good red and listening
That he will be along
There are others, many others
And so this is just another poem about
Drinking and listening to music
Repeat, right?
But look at Faulkner
He not only said the same thing over and
Over but he said the same place
So, please
Let me boost these giants of our lives
Once more: the classical composers
Of our time and of times past
It has kept the rope from my throat
Maybe it will loosen yours
Tired of hearing about it, But
Most repeat the same theme
Over and over again, It's
As if they were trying to
Refine what seems so strange
And off and important to them
It's done by everybody
Because everybody is of a
Different stripe and form
And each must work out what is before them
Over and over again because
That is their personal tiny miracle
Their bit of luck
Like now as like before and
Before I have been slowly
Drinking this fine red wine and
Listening to symphony after
Symphony from this black radio to my left
Some symphonies remind me of certain
Cities and certain rooms
Make me realize that certain people now
Long dead were able to transgress graveyards
And traps and cages and bones and limbs
People who broke through with joy
And madness and with insurmountable force
In tiny rented rooms I was struck by miracles
And even now after decades of listening
I still am able to hear
A new work never heard before that is totally
Bright, a fresh-blazing sun
There are countless sub-stratas of
Rising surprise from the human firmament
Music has an expansive and
Endless flow of ungodly exploration
Writers are confined to the limit of
Sight and feeling upon the
Page while musicians leap
Into unrestricted immensity
Right now it's just old Tchaikowsky
Moaning and groaning his
Way through symphony #5
But it's just as good as
When I first heard it
I haven't heard one of
My favorites, Eric Coates, For some time
But I know that if I keep
Drinking the good red and listening
That he will be along
There are others, many others
And so this is just another poem about
Drinking and listening to music
Repeat, right?
But look at Faulkner
He not only said the same thing over and
Over but he said the same place
So, please
Let me boost these giants of our lives
Once more: the classical composers
Of our time and of times past
It has kept the rope from my throat
Maybe it will loosen yours