Post the most bleak, depressing lyrics you can think of.
- Thread starter Life Sucks
- Start date
Satanstoenail
My Larpstyle determines my Derpstyle
I have never felt such frustration
Or lack of self control
I want you to kill me
And dig me under, I wanna live no more
One who doesnt care is one who shouldnt be
Ive tried to hide myself from what is wrong for me
For me
I want to taste dirty, stinging pistol
In my mouth, on my tongue
I want you to scrape me from the walls
And go crazy like youve made me
You, you are so special
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt
Alice In Chains - Dirt
Or lack of self control
I want you to kill me
And dig me under, I wanna live no more
One who doesnt care is one who shouldnt be
Ive tried to hide myself from what is wrong for me
For me
I want to taste dirty, stinging pistol
In my mouth, on my tongue
I want you to scrape me from the walls
And go crazy like youve made me
You, you are so special
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt
Alice In Chains - Dirt
How do you do?
Have yourself, a pleasent afternoon.
Well, fuck you too,
Tonight's the one I choose, for you!
[Chorus]
I'll kill myself,
I'll blow my brains onto the wall.
See you in Hell,
I will not take this anymore.
Now this is where ends, this is where I will draw the line,
So excuse me while, I end my life.
I will pull this through,
Not having a reason's no excuse.
What the Hell do you,
Suppose that I have left to lose?
[Chorus]
[Guitar Solo]
*Spoken* I'll kill myself...
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself,
I'll blow my brains onto the wall!
See you in Hell,
I will not take this anymore!
This is where it ends,
I put a bullet in my head.
Oh yes I did.
This is where it ends,
This is where I will draw the line.
Excuse me while....
I kill myself.
Have yourself, a pleasent afternoon.
Well, fuck you too,
Tonight's the one I choose, for you!
[Chorus]
I'll kill myself,
I'll blow my brains onto the wall.
See you in Hell,
I will not take this anymore.
Now this is where ends, this is where I will draw the line,
So excuse me while, I end my life.
I will pull this through,
Not having a reason's no excuse.
What the Hell do you,
Suppose that I have left to lose?
[Chorus]
[Guitar Solo]
*Spoken* I'll kill myself...
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself
See you in Hell
I'll kill myself,
I'll blow my brains onto the wall!
See you in Hell,
I will not take this anymore!
This is where it ends,
I put a bullet in my head.
Oh yes I did.
This is where it ends,
This is where I will draw the line.
Excuse me while....
I kill myself.
WNxScythe
Member
- May 16, 2004
- 940
- 8
- 18
I think most metal lyrics trying to be sad or depressing or bleak fail miserably. Most of them just have no clue how to write intelligent, subtle sorrowful poetry. So without further ado:
One of my favorite poems of all time (originally written by Robert D Joyce, a few words were changed by Dead can Dance and used on of their albums... hearing it sung by Lisa Gerrard is an incredible experience):
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love.
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love.
The old for her the new
That made me think on Ireland dearly.
While the soft wind blew down the glade
and shook the golden barley.
T'was hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us.
But harder still to bear the shame
of foreign chains around us.
And so I said the mountain glen
I'll meet at morning early.
And I'll join the bold united men
While soft winds shook the barley.
T'was sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arm round her flinging.
When a foe, man's shot burst on our ears
From out the wild woods ringing.
A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early.
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley.
But blood for blood without remorse
I've ta'en at oulart hollow.
I've lain my true love's clay like corpse
Where I full soon must follow.
Around her grave I've wandered drear
Noon, night, and morning early.
With breaking heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley.
Another fantastic poem by E.E Cummings:
(this REALLY needs to be put to music, and I'm going to do it myself)
it may not always be so; and i say
it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should to be, i say if this should be –
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
Another great one by Richard Wright:
Between the World and Me
(1935)
And one morning while in the woods I stumbled
suddenly upon the thing,
Stumbled upon it in a grassy clearing guarded by scaly
oaks and elms
And the sooty details of the scene rose, thrusting
themselves between the world and me....
There was a design of white bones slumbering forgottenly
upon a cushion of ashes.
There was a charred stump of a sapling pointing a blunt
finger accusingly at the sky.
There were torn tree limbs, tiny veins of burnt leaves, and
a scorched coil of greasy hemp;
A vacant shoe, an empty tie, a ripped shirt, a lonely hat,
and a pair of trousers stiff with black blood.
And upon the trampled grass were buttons, dead matches,
butt-ends of cigars and cigarettes, peanut shells, a
drained gin-flask, and a whore's lipstick;
Scattered traces of tar, restless arrays of feathers, and the
lingering smell of gasoline.
And through the morning air the sun poured yellow
surprise into the eye sockets of the stony skull....
And while I stood my mind was frozen within cold pity
for the life that was gone.
The ground gripped my feet and my heart was circled by
icy walls of fear--
The sun died in the sky; a night wind muttered in the
grass and fumbled the leaves in the trees; the woods
poured forth the hungry yelping of hounds; the
darkness screamed with thirsty voices; and the witnesses rose and lived:
The dry bones stirred, rattled, lifted, melting themselves
into my bones.
The grey ashes formed flesh firm and black, entering into
my flesh.
The gin-flask passed from mouth to mouth, cigars and
cigarettes glowed, the whore smeared lipstick red
upon her lips,
And a thousand faces swirled around me, clamoring that
my life be burned....
And then they had me, stripped me, battering my teeth
into my throat till I swallowed my own blood.
My voice was drowned in the roar of their voices, and my
black wet body slipped and rolled in their hands as
they bound me to the sapling.
And my skin clung to the bubbling hot tar, falling from
me in limp patches.
And the down and quills of the white feathers sank into
my raw flesh, and I moaned in my agony.
Then my blood was cooled mercifully, cooled by a
baptism of gasoline.
And in a blaze of red I leaped to the sky as pain rose like water, boiling my limbs
Panting, begging I clutched childlike, clutched to the hot
sides of death.
Now I am dry bones and my face a stony skull staring in
yellow surprise at the sun....
One of my favorite poems of all time (originally written by Robert D Joyce, a few words were changed by Dead can Dance and used on of their albums... hearing it sung by Lisa Gerrard is an incredible experience):
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love.
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love.
The old for her the new
That made me think on Ireland dearly.
While the soft wind blew down the glade
and shook the golden barley.
T'was hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us.
But harder still to bear the shame
of foreign chains around us.
And so I said the mountain glen
I'll meet at morning early.
And I'll join the bold united men
While soft winds shook the barley.
T'was sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arm round her flinging.
When a foe, man's shot burst on our ears
From out the wild woods ringing.
A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early.
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley.
But blood for blood without remorse
I've ta'en at oulart hollow.
I've lain my true love's clay like corpse
Where I full soon must follow.
Around her grave I've wandered drear
Noon, night, and morning early.
With breaking heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley.
Another fantastic poem by E.E Cummings:
(this REALLY needs to be put to music, and I'm going to do it myself)
it may not always be so; and i say
it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should to be, i say if this should be –
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
Another great one by Richard Wright:
Between the World and Me
(1935)
And one morning while in the woods I stumbled
suddenly upon the thing,
Stumbled upon it in a grassy clearing guarded by scaly
oaks and elms
And the sooty details of the scene rose, thrusting
themselves between the world and me....
There was a design of white bones slumbering forgottenly
upon a cushion of ashes.
There was a charred stump of a sapling pointing a blunt
finger accusingly at the sky.
There were torn tree limbs, tiny veins of burnt leaves, and
a scorched coil of greasy hemp;
A vacant shoe, an empty tie, a ripped shirt, a lonely hat,
and a pair of trousers stiff with black blood.
And upon the trampled grass were buttons, dead matches,
butt-ends of cigars and cigarettes, peanut shells, a
drained gin-flask, and a whore's lipstick;
Scattered traces of tar, restless arrays of feathers, and the
lingering smell of gasoline.
And through the morning air the sun poured yellow
surprise into the eye sockets of the stony skull....
And while I stood my mind was frozen within cold pity
for the life that was gone.
The ground gripped my feet and my heart was circled by
icy walls of fear--
The sun died in the sky; a night wind muttered in the
grass and fumbled the leaves in the trees; the woods
poured forth the hungry yelping of hounds; the
darkness screamed with thirsty voices; and the witnesses rose and lived:
The dry bones stirred, rattled, lifted, melting themselves
into my bones.
The grey ashes formed flesh firm and black, entering into
my flesh.
The gin-flask passed from mouth to mouth, cigars and
cigarettes glowed, the whore smeared lipstick red
upon her lips,
And a thousand faces swirled around me, clamoring that
my life be burned....
And then they had me, stripped me, battering my teeth
into my throat till I swallowed my own blood.
My voice was drowned in the roar of their voices, and my
black wet body slipped and rolled in their hands as
they bound me to the sapling.
And my skin clung to the bubbling hot tar, falling from
me in limp patches.
And the down and quills of the white feathers sank into
my raw flesh, and I moaned in my agony.
Then my blood was cooled mercifully, cooled by a
baptism of gasoline.
And in a blaze of red I leaped to the sky as pain rose like water, boiling my limbs
Panting, begging I clutched childlike, clutched to the hot
sides of death.
Now I am dry bones and my face a stony skull staring in
yellow surprise at the sun....
Demilich
Remember
Intelligent, subtle sorrowful poetry often comes across sounding like totally contrived, false and un-genuine. I personally find some good, honest, well-written lyrics far more effective at conveying a depressing feeling than all that fancy language. There's a time and a place for everything...
King Richard
Hello there
Demilich
Remember
Satanstoenail
My Larpstyle determines my Derpstyle
metal_wrath
I dip my forefinger...
Draconian
Aegir
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
Little white flowers will never awaken you,
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday.
Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I have decided to end it all.
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you.
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.
Gloomy Sunday.
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
Little white flowers will never awaken you,
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday.
Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I have decided to end it all.
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you.
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.
Gloomy Sunday.
WNxScythe
Member
- May 16, 2004
- 940
- 8
- 18
Draconian is that the song that was supposedley banned in multiple countries because it was "causing" suicides?
@Demilich: I completely disagree. If it's done well by someone who knows what they're doing it's far more moving and generally enjoyable to read than basic "down to earth" lyrics that any random person could come up with. Truly great poetry has layers and layers of meaning and can conjure up emotions in ways approaching the effect music can have on someone. Now when you combine great music and great poetry (something that's extremely rare unfortunately), it's an amazing experience.
@Demilich: I completely disagree. If it's done well by someone who knows what they're doing it's far more moving and generally enjoyable to read than basic "down to earth" lyrics that any random person could come up with. Truly great poetry has layers and layers of meaning and can conjure up emotions in ways approaching the effect music can have on someone. Now when you combine great music and great poetry (something that's extremely rare unfortunately), it's an amazing experience.
Bleak, depressive lyrics has to be short. Otherwise, in my opinion, they just get annoying and whiny.
King Richard
Hello there
Draconian
Aegir
metal_wrath
I dip my forefinger...
Oh my bad...this is the depressive thread. Either way your post didn't make any sense, which is why I fixed it :Smug:
Whats the actual proper translation... i have found a few different ones
Gloomy Sunday with a hundred white flowers
I was waiting for you my dearest with a prayer
A Sunday morning, chasing after my dreams
The carriage of my sorrow returned to me without you
It is since then that my Sundays have been forever sad
Tears my only drink, the sorrow my bread...
Gloomy Sunday
This last Sunday, my darling please come to me
There'll be a priest, a coffin, a catafalque and a winding-sheet
There'll be flowers for you, flowers and a coffin
Under the blossoming trees it will be my last journey
My eyes will be open, so that I could see you for a last time
Don't be afraid of my eyes, I'm blessing you even in my death...
The last Sunday
Demilich
Remember
ohiogrinder
New Metal Member
- Mar 15, 2006
- 5,392
- 13
- 0
A World stripped of its colour devoid of love and hate.
There’s no one left to stand before St Peter’s pearly gates.
To see the chaos man has wrought,
Brings havoc to his brain.
The few that’s left on judgement day,
Have been acquitted as insane!
A silent World of shapeless things, of torn and twisted form.
Man sits amid the wreckage waiting vainly for the dawn.
The glory of man has come and gone,
A broken shattered dream.
The only sound to rent the air,
Is a stifled choking scream!
Blindness follows darkness man awaits impending doom.
His mind lies dead, to arise no more, no awakening from the gloom.
Lost amid the twilight world
Of never ending night
He needs no more his senses,
Least of all he needs his sight!
The chariots of fire rode roughshod through the World.
Men of vision stood ridiculed, seen but never heard!
Cries of disillusionment,
Drowned by mans desire.
The need for mass destruction,
Fuelled the raging fire!
There’s no one left to stand before St Peter’s pearly gates.
To see the chaos man has wrought,
Brings havoc to his brain.
The few that’s left on judgement day,
Have been acquitted as insane!
A silent World of shapeless things, of torn and twisted form.
Man sits amid the wreckage waiting vainly for the dawn.
The glory of man has come and gone,
A broken shattered dream.
The only sound to rent the air,
Is a stifled choking scream!
Blindness follows darkness man awaits impending doom.
His mind lies dead, to arise no more, no awakening from the gloom.
Lost amid the twilight world
Of never ending night
He needs no more his senses,
Least of all he needs his sight!
The chariots of fire rode roughshod through the World.
Men of vision stood ridiculed, seen but never heard!
Cries of disillusionment,
Drowned by mans desire.
The need for mass destruction,
Fuelled the raging fire!
Any nirvana music or lyrics are generally depressive. Milk-it by them comes to mind not suprising given the shotgun death of their author. Any Nine Inch Nails or Alice in Chains. The Downward Spiral and Dirt are two of the most moody depressed albums that come to mind. Anyone that writes a song called Eraser and screams Kill Me ! over and over again against a backdrop of maggots eating the flesh off a Grizzly has got to be depressed.
Check the song "Dirt" by Alice in Chains
....and i quote.....
I want to taste dirty a stinging pistol on my mouth on my tongue
I want you to scrape me from the walls and go crazy like you made me
<Chorus>
One who doesn't care is one who should'nt be i ty to hide myself from what is wrong for me.
That song makes me happy every time
Check the song "Dirt" by Alice in Chains
....and i quote.....
I want to taste dirty a stinging pistol on my mouth on my tongue
I want you to scrape me from the walls and go crazy like you made me
<Chorus>
One who doesn't care is one who should'nt be i ty to hide myself from what is wrong for me.
That song makes me happy every time
Satanstoenail
My Larpstyle determines my Derpstyle
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