Free Lyrics Resource

A resource of seventy-eight original texts potentially for songs, operas, song cycles, spoken word pieces, titles, musical theatre, a starting point for a composition, painting or event. I am creating this modest hoard of words simply because I enjoy writing and it gives me immense pleasure to spark inspiration in someone, so if this happens with you I would love to know. As a composer, text has been at the beginning of almost everything I have ever done, overtly or otherwise: it can make for an intoxicating insight. I am not precious about these fragments and make no claim for their quality, most of these have not been developed or thought about for too long (I generally write them in my head whilst walking) you can use them freely, edit them, chop them up and combine them in any way. I would also be happy to develop anything further if anyone asks me to. In my head some of the very short ones would be effective when repeated many times, however that’s just my taste; a short sentence can be presented in a powerful punch or spread across an evening. Also, a one-hundred year opera doesn’t necessarily need a libretto longer than a single word and a hundred word text can be over in a single minute. I may update this regularly or never again. Talk to me at

I’m mad about the thing you did,
Even more you kept it hidden,
Who are you trying to kid?
When you’re gone for good, good riddance!

Bacon, runny eggs and ketchup,
Fat audible sausages: tabled.

In the bakery the baker becomes awakery,
With care, the cake is eaten in a bakery.

Don’t fret, don’t pick at it,
Don’t rip it, don’t lick it,
Don’t become bored or set the bar too high
Don’t peg it but pick it up if you drop it.

Or… gas? Hmm…
Oar, Gaz! Um…
Whore! Gaza? Zoom!
Ore gah! Some.

Ode to those of us getting dimmer
Getting fatter getting dinner.

More money than sense
Full of honey and hence
He’s over that fence
Now his life can commence

The robin red of breast,
Went robbing paste of Crest.
Electrocuted pigeons,
Cluttering up the guttering.

Seagulls and buoys
Come out to play
Come out to pay
Come out and play
Seagulls and buoys
Come out to play
And they all fall drown.

A felled man,
A joined cage
An early brownie,
A religious wolf.

Hi, happy yellow finches and potato fishnets
Hi, scandalous scandal salads and scarlet sapphire sundials
Hi, contented bloated bullfrogs, you cattle of fish,
Hi, gullible seagulls, lounging in my soap dish.

Dolly Part-on, Dolly Part-off.
Polly Dark-in, Polly Dark-out.

Swings and roundabouts,
Shits and giggles
Something thereabouts,
She shakes in wiggles.

All my teeth just fell out,
Into an orchestral ashtray.

If you drop a letter on the ground
Then said letter becomes litter,
The latter literally

Touched and touching, touched and touching.
Touched and touching, touched and touching.
Touched and touching, touched and touching.

Wats of vater falling from thine eyes,
Slipping from the cortal moil,
Jig bugs full from momma’s cries,
They want to do us into the sound groil.

They came for the coming
And I said nothing
They came forthcoming
I held my speaking
They came again and again I did not say something
They came forth a fourth time coming
I told them anything

Customer groans,
Quaintly preaches,
Convenient fog from the east,
Nationalists appear to cheer.

Authority faintly applied,
The taxis predict to provide
A choice of innovation,
We agree to ice-tap the mail.

Primary manufacturing of hot
Liberals reasoning to coincide
With lippy concession lost
To a straight amused host.

Breasts for body art
Tit for tat
Four breasts is body art
Tits go tat
A single breast is body art
That’s a tit

Phase a phosphorus phrase for us, faze us please,
As we piss through the eye of a needle in a haystack.
My anal sis is versatile,
Her analysis is averse to tiles.

Don’t be thick and go ‘n’ lick
A trail left by a snail,
Even if, it gives a whiff
of custard cut with mustard,
Even when the snail pens
A note laid down with a slimy coat
A track leaked from a small gross crack
That warns of things to come,
That we’ll mourn this snail’s bum.

Newton’s straw
Will suck up a
Neutron star
Which will fuck up
Newton and his straw
The neutron star will be fine

She strops during sports
She spots wearing shorts
She shops failing ports
She swaps gender on transport

Amanda’s a man and a dad, Adam
Adam is sad and Dan is mad,
Amanda and Sam and Dan and Adam,
Dana, Mandy, Andy and Aman,
Dance and dance and dance.

Sir, your loins stink and shake,
Enjoy your sirloin of pink steak.

Ill lit is her hate
Her hate is ill lit
At any rate, we ate.

Playing backgammon on the top of a pig,
He questions his life choices.

A tender resonance
Of a murky meditation
A bittersweet occurrence
Of a failed determination
A tainted tremulousness
Of a dust-bitten hibernation
An experimental dissonance
From an ejaculatory lacrimation

What does it pay a man
To pay a woman
To roam and plan
To spay a Roman
Who says “whoa man!”

A, so you keep naked
B, I’m not what plays
C, so see them flick
D, we fly high clown
E, yo! Why fuck round?

F, of cow, rope stand
G, lo! Thy will rolls
H, ow! Rot, damn, balls!
I, am the huge mouse

J, as the wall bangs
K, to row down river
L, in God, they trust
M, my fox, fuck Frank
N, ah! Fie! Hunt cunts
O! by far, barf bones

P, up dog, down whale
Q, hi Liz, away Nigel!
R, Jo, jam, jump, James
S, so sew slew slows
T, go lop legs, sever
U, us, you, them, awake

V, za, yup, sick, total
W, op, chi, pray, beat
X, ok, now back drown
Y, ug, kip, bone heads
Z, oi! Hop that along!

Sugary buggery
Was it her peas or his peas
The result was the same
In their shame snuggery: herpes.

The villain collects scabs from the bodies of children,
The abcesses and distresses he compresses to excesses,
He addresses his successes and depresses coalesces,
Until he holds his final meal, a stinky stinking burger.

Banana skin for tea,
Banana goes into a bin.
Well, I just kicked a puppy into a tree,
Because I thought it was a kitten.

Do you remember that night
When we sat on the tower?
Settling setting the tower aflame
Watching the tower go up in lights?
That tower was burned in our name
We sat on the tower glowing
It licked at our feet as we turned to flame.
It reached up to our nose
Consumed our feet and went through us unopposed.

Gherkin thong, gherkin thong,
This is my song, this is my song.

Sandal tomato vines,
These are my rhymes, these are my rhymes.

Polished with a fine cognac,
This is my track, this is my track.

Check out my earring prunes,
These are my tunes, my tunes.

You may think you have no restraint,
That thing you think simply cannot wait,
But before you wallow in that torment,
Consider you might just be living in the moment.

A sly slum asylum
An asylum slum
In slumber on lumber
Doing a number on the lumbar
Some bar set on a low spike
As they lie and lie alike

Artistic sticks
Problem blemishes
Political calories
To afford the ordinary

A musician called Ian,
Was placated by Kate
And unfortunately by Nate
Then went to live in America, with Erica.

I paid alimony to a pony
I paid her £25
Her name is Ally
She holds my money
Still she always moans

It’s rather out there,
So rat her out there.
Our wrath does sprout there,
So wrap his snout there.

Insisting on the interesting
Intersecting the intention
Inititating the interpolating
Inculcating the irritation

Verdi and Monteverdi
One a chauffeur,
the other in faux fur.

Thy will always towers
Towards western apathy, towering
Tremendously, waning a tad,
This was actually tiring,
That which absolutely trills
The worldly aria, thrills
Tunesmiths working at twilight

Tune sings that broad
Tune girls that broke
Your heart sing sings
That think very terms
Time think here other
What would make never
That local even about
They break down their
Find there many think
Have music form which
Feel about with young
Were those such thing

Anyway Ländler
Europe working
They’ve article
Berlin started
Jewish culture
Ethnic culture
People baloney
There’s nothing

Gorgeous hillbilly
Tyrolean hillbilly
Consider primitive
Cultures breakdown
Question something

Abs tracked in the abstract,
I fed, fled then got flayed
I said, sled then was slayed,
As Russell wrestled on the trestle table.

Open that bottle of bubbly, lovely jubbly
If the bubbly bubbles don’t shoot out with a popping whoosh
The champagne doesn’t see you as much of a threat
And you probably don’t deserve or want it bad enough

Seahorses see horses
Hell’s bells hear paradise’s pair of dice,
Clinking and tapping
Swimming and clapping

We cauterise the wound
They caught our eyes too soon
We cauterise the wound
They caught their eyes in the reflection of the heated spoon
We cauterise the wound
He used to think himself immune
We cauterise the wound
It strikes like a blunt harpoon
We cauterise the wound
His mind a savage typhoon

I got hand rash
But I got it with panache

The thriller fills her with fear,
Of skateboarding and sadomasochism.

Death of wife,
Breath of life.
Birth of son,
Mirth in run.
Trust of daughter,
We rust in water.

I invested a vested interest in an interested investor,
An inventor of intense intent who invented in tents.

Anything I do makes me a

Cheater, I can’t win unless I
Really try to be very small and
Occasionally bite people when they try to
Squash me or
Squish me or just generally give me

Trouble, so I tend to become
Incandescent with rage, until I
Crack and go on my
Killing spree

I want to let me hare down here
design a designer deer sign

I’m just a pickle ho,
Who plays the piccolo.
I’m just a troubled case,
Who plays the double bass.

A coda coder In Akoda,
Sitting colder in a Skoda.

Arranging an autopsy,
Crying out a cold top C.

Raising the dead.
Erasing the dead.
Bruising the dead.
Braising the dead.
Abrasing the dead.
Appraising the dead.

North – east – northeast – north-northeast
North – west – northwest – north-northwest
South – east – southeast – south-southeast
South – west – southwest – south-southwest

Projects that never happened,
Pieces that were never written,
Dangers that were easily swallowed,
Hands that were never washed.
People who remained in shadow,
Ideas lost in tears,
From friendships to fiendships.

Free and so I am
I am far more now if I
Could tell you if I cry
Over him as you
Give for it I do

It’s a long time since I had lunch with the girls,
I need a poo so are you taking a day off?

scream scream scream scream scream scream scream

Momma, I need to check my eyelashes,

late late late late late late

Fifteen dollars, forty-five pounds,
I was trying that,

work work work work work work work

Taking fridays just won’t let me count
The wind blowing through the trees.


Looking both ways, regardless,
Not using “irregardless”.
Finding beauty in the last place,
Complex splatterings of pigeon shit.
Walking through a life altering thunderstorm,
Letting people change.

Self-deprecating, self-defecating,
Self-defeating, self-defecting.
This is my chance to run!
To run to the chocolate mountain!

I do it to
His fat rat but not
Very well, from time, make time, they
Never print quite right, quick, quack.

Me? Me! Me… Me!! Me?! Me!? Me!?! Me!!? Me??!
You? You! You… You!! You?! You!? You!?! You!!? You??!
Us??? US?! Us…? Us….?? us…..??? Us……????

Yes I’m gay, I’m gay, yes, I’m gay, yes, gay, I am gay,
So I’m gay and I am gay and yes I am gay,
Gay gay gay, I’m gay, so I’m gay and yes and yes, so gay.
Gay, so? Yes, yes, yes! Gay, I am gay, gay am I, so gay.

Poo on my toe and eat a potato
Poo on my toes and eat potatoes
There’s poo on my toe and I like potatoes
Some poo on my toes, I think it used to be toast.

A you’re the antichrist
B you’re a bloody bitch
C you’re a cunting crazy cock
D you’re the devil man
E you’re egg shaped evil
F you’re a fucking freak
G you’re grandma’s gunt
H you’re the host of hellfire
I still like you though
J you’re a jaded jerkoff
K you’re the king of kink
L you’re a lousy lay
M you’re a manky mouse
N you’re an N-bomb nun
O you’re only okay
P you’re piss in a priest’s pericardium
Q you’re the queen of queer quickies
R you’re really rather rough
S you’re a slaughter stage
T you’re a titanic tit twat
U at least you are you
V you’re a vacant valueless vagina
W you’re a wanker, you’re a wanker: wanker
X you’re an excreted exhumation
Y are you?
Z you’re banned from all zoos

I call it the butterfly park because it’s a park
And there are lots of butterflies
And I ask them, I ask the butterflies
Is it like Lambrini?
And they say they just want money to buy nice things
For their butterfly boyfriends

Tesco octets and salad sandals,
Alfresco coquettes and pallid vandals.
Crumbly duckies and stubbornly cookies,
Humbly unlucky and rubbery rookies.

That sheet of music, waiting for a pianist.
That drip of mucus waiting for a facist.

I wish I had internal stillness,
Instead I have this mental illness.
Of shame and guilt and more of these,
My internal monologue likes to tease.
Self hatred and self loathing,
Constrict in their patrolling.
Depression is an awful thing,
It doesn’t make you want to sing.

Not questioning this weightlessness,
It’s new and so I embrace it
As one should before death.

After Listening To Feldman's Second String Quartet

This is my own personal experience of listening to Morton Feldman’s Second String Quartet which clocks in around six hours.  This piece takes you places like nothing else I know of, in any medium, but perhaps Satie’s Vexations comes a little close.  This is essentially a stream of consciousness, my experience will not be the same as yours, you will not hear the same things I did, you will not get the same images I received (in some cases at least, I hope not…) and that makes it all the more exciting!  I didn’t force or fabricate any of this, I tried to remain as passive as possible, letting it wash over me.  This writing will not be worked on, developed or thought about too much, so as not to lose any freshness.  I’ve always judged a piece of music on how many of my own ideas I get or how many thoughts appear seemingly out of nowhere…

Brown wood-like cuboids zipping past in a dense globular star cluster, surrounded by a massive orange star crossed with rippling rose petals / John Williams / sirens / trumpets / nuclear strike alarm / home / vital breath / slow motion raindrops / visualisation of complex four-dimensional gravitational waves dancing around the soaring elongation of a quasar’s central energy beam / my central nervous system, spread out, laid out, reduced to fuzzy red atoms that appear to eat themselves / this piece creates an exquisite test of one’s memory, linking fragments that may be minutes or hours apart / music sounds reversed / Nosferatu / mitosis in reverse / endless questions without answers, tension without release, yet this is soothing / straight, slightly fuzzy black shadows overlapping, birthing, transforming, I can see crocodile shapes and eggs falling from them / an eye slowly closing but never fully shutting / low sounds pushing from under the skin, leaving stretched welts / a circular wheel turning but as if it was anything but a circle / emotionless sentimentality / white shadow-like striations / racing through a starfield, points of light reducing, to black, then back again, twirling through a black hole, observing the hypothetical conical structure from the outside / Penderecki / Psycho / Boötes Void / Luci from Groening’s Disenchantment / whistles, controlled wind if the weather was produced by a composer / Victorian music hall / Slow Philip Glass / plucking hairs from the head of a catatonic person in an asylum / Lovecraft rubbing his fingers together / repeated low note to high note motif, with harmonics sounds like “I’m dead” / a washing machine designed only to dirty the clothes not clean them / Irish folk music / grenades exploding in front of me but producing only minimal sounds / lonely old dying goose / Escher / accordion / timpani / EDM / absorption lines / a lighthouse out of control / wood blocks, octopus suckers on plastic / Wagner / Palestrina / Stockhausen / dissonance becomes consonance, everything becomes melody, a minor second is huge / lying naked on a huge pool of custard, wobbling but never sinking / severe angular makeup / overweight mermaid swimming down an underwater tornado made from multi-coloured iron filings / black and white plasma walls stretched and rapidly receding from a room with the quartet playing / several traditional chinese instruments / whale song / glass balloons popping, somehow like ordinary balloons / waves holding hands but not joining waters / bicycle with many wheels appearing, ala Cyriak / a waterfall of wheelchairs (seriously questioning my brain right now…) / random fragments of clean metal coming to me on a zipwire / inside a large structure of fractal tree branches, with gaps but no outside / Sondheim / close up on a mouth, the corner is melting and grimacing / small rodents playing hypersonic tag / Gypsy folk music / a Francis Bacon scream, itself screaming / wandering aimlessly but never lost / colourless rainbow being produced in the sky, like a brass rubbing / impossibly long line of houses in the distance, each with a single light on, same room in each / handcuffs coming toward me, clinking together in slow motion without sound, but you can see the sound / Svankmajer / building up of a Rothko painting, coloured water lava lamp / four people talking to each other in a large room, but separated, rotating, but still as if they were huddled together / stylophone / Holocaust pleas and cries / tunnel made of storm clouds, with lizard like creatures crawling around the top / black and white static, glitch in the Mortrix? / Ravel / beating heart of bagpipes / repeatedly putting down the same whiskey glass in the same place / radar location pulsation / punching a cloud / Japanese samurai sword slicing a knife precisely through its centre / spirits reaching from below the ground / disgustingly intense, like smelling sulphur / like the ink signs from Arrival / train tracks with no parallel lines, yet the trains don’t seem to notice or care / echo of the viola line in Rothko Chapel / Messiaen / conch shell / organic fragility / line from Antony and the Johnson’s Epilepsy is Dancing “As a soldering blue line, between my eyes” – this, but black / congregating window condensation / Beckett / glass harmonica being played like a microphone getting too close to a speaker / some fragments could be airlifted into any Disney song and nobody would know / Kurtag / ballerina music box, but as she turns, she gets twisted, chewed, gruesomely deformed / musical saw / theremin / walking over a contact mic buried in the mud / Muybridge’s horse galloping towards me / some long notes (but also a few short ones) sound like a person’s entire life condensed, with attention on their final breath, a realisation that eternity awaits / Ligeti / distant rumbling apparitions / Alpine horn / Marionettes suddenly coming to life then randomly stopping / getting a chinese burn from someone you lust after / flipping a coin that bizarrely teleports itself to different locations before falling back in your hand / a bicycle bell whilst undergoing Lorentz contraction / green and pastoral / I like pieces that do everything or nothing, this is a very rare example (for me) of a piece that does both of those at the same time! / choir (this surprised me, I actually heard singing voices) / lacklustre panpipes / Pollock / an orrery with just two planets fighting against each other / licking the bubbling meniscus of a supernatural cauldron / playing “they love me, they love me not” with the petals of a flower, but some petals burn, or disintegrate, or fight back, or bleed / low note sounds like “moo”, high note sounds like “meow” – when they overlap: “moo-ow” (!) / ice rubbing against ice / bellows opening like the exaggerated beak of a raven / dolphins at slow motion play / Mica Levi / the dissipating ethereal rings of an ink drop burrowing its way through a glass of water / my eyes turning to thousands of spider eggs / two weavers on two looms, superimposed at a ninety-degree angle (this image was particularly welcome, as you’ll appreciate if you know anything about Feldman’s interests…) / Bernstein / Laurence Crane / didgeridoo / harp / the irregular carving of an iceberg / firing single drops of grey liquid directly at each other through the LHC / Laurel and Hardy theme / Debussy / Feldman drags you into experiencing the decay of the event, sometimes more than the attack / branches rubbing along the windows of the top deck of a double decker bus / beautiful alone doesn’t quite feel right – rustic beauty feels closer.

Piano Concerto

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