Did You Know That I Sing Too?

Okay, that’s a lie. I really can’t sing. In fact, my singing turns wine into vinegar and kills houseplants. But my husband can actually sing. And it’s been awhile since he and I have turned any of my old poetry into music. So we both thought we owed you some tunes. (If you missed any of the past songs, you should definitely listen to our Country Music Song and our Thanksgiving Carols.)

Today’s song was inspired by some very angry poetry I wrote as a teenager. In fact, it was one poem in particular that got this song rolling:

Fuck You: A Little Diddy

You sit there with your perfect life.
A dog, a car, a house, a wife.
Sipping scotch in leather chairs.
Throwing me your vile stares.
FUCK YOU.  

Isn’t that beautiful? Can you feel the love tonight? (Don’t worry—our song will crush that retched earworm.)

Rather than analyzing this lovely poem, I decided I had to mash it up with some more “lyrics” to make it a song. So I dug around a little more in my journals and found some more appropriately angst-ridden words. Then I combined the three angry poems and turned them into one angry song. And I decided that punk rock music would be the most fitting so I commissioned a punk rock song from my husband.

Now I was originally thinking along the lines of The Dead Milkmen or Dead Kennedys. But he created a song that has more of a Bowling for Soup feel to it. I ended up really liking that because what’s better than singing “fuck you” in a catchy, cheerful way? (The answer is “nothing.”)

I think it goes without saying that this song is NFSW and NSFK. Enjoy our ridiculous song. Lyrics are below. And the original poems follow.

Fuck You: A Punk Rock Song

Lyrics

Here I sit all alone, inside my dark and lonely home.
No one wonders, no one cares. I need someone to dry the tears.
This world I feel is not for me. No happiness, no sympathy.
Every night I cry in pain.
I’m losing at this endless game.

You sit there with your perfect life.
A dog, a car, a house, a wife.
Sipping scotch in your leather chair.
Throwing me your vile stares.
FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

If you read the writing on the wall, painted with my hand,
You’ll see a poem I left for you, and I hope you understand.
My life with you was miserable. You made it a burning hell.
Every time I look at you, from my eyes, tears fell.

[Chorus]

Every time I’d talk to you, you pushed me far away.
Now that I’m gone and I can’t talk, I left this message to say:
I do not regret what I've done, in fact I feel real good.
And if you feel at fault,
I DAMN WELL THINK YOU SHOULD!

[Chorus x 2]

Original Angry Teenager Poems

I: Endless Game

Here I sit all alone,
Inside my dark and lonely home.
No one wonders, no one cares.
I need someone to dry the tears.
This world I feel is not for me.
No happiness, no sympathy.
Every night I cry in pain.
I’m losing at this endless game.

II: Fuck You: A Little Diddy

You sit there with your perfect life.
A dog, a car, a house, a wife.
Sipping scotch in leather chairs.
Throwing me your vile stares.
FUCK YOU.  

III: Runaway

If you read the writing on the wall,
painted with my hand,
You’ll see a poem I left for you,
And I hope you understand.
My life with you was miserable.
You made it a burning hell.
Every time I looked at you
From my eyes, tears fell.
Every time I’d talk to you,
You pushed me far away.
Now that I’m gone and I can’t talk,
I left this message to say:
I do not regret what I have done.
In fact I feel very good.
And if you feel at fault and miserable,
I DAMN WELL THINK YOU SHOULD!