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Who Are You? (Postpartum Aggression) {Lyrics}

by Richard Paez

Who
  are you
    to say
      I didn't love
you
  can't say
    straight-faced
      I didn't try
hard
  to be
    straight-laced
      now here I am
gone
  disgraced
    shit-faced
      but still alive:


How can you say I didn't try my best
to come alive with you? You held me down.
  You kept me trapped inside you
  until you tore me from you --
  so how is it you can say
    how is it you can say
      I never loved?

here
  I stand
    I rise
      I come undone
just
  to fall
    apart
      the hundredth time
flies
  I stand
    I rise
      watch me unfold
wings
  that beat
    that spread
      that block the sky
high
  I rise
    I fly
      I sing again:


How can you say I didn't try my best
to come alive with you? You held me down.
  You kept me trapped inside you
  until you tore me from you --
  so how is it you can say
    how is it you can say
      I never loved you?

      You never loved me.
      And I never loved you.

      But at least I tried.

02/01/2010

Author's Note: This was conceived (I use that term advisedly) as lyrics for a heavier, guitar driven track. The "verses" are meant to be sung exactly as they appear (quietly, almost sing-song, 1, 1/2, 1/2, 1/2/3/4, 1, 1/2, 1/2, 1/2/3/4) while the choruses are meant to be nearly yelled and done quite quickly (slowing down the further they get from the left margin). Oh, and yes -- this is admittedly one of the most emo things I have ever written, but that's ok -- I could picture myself singing this seriously even as I'm sitting here laughing about it. The rhythm came to me and the words just fell in place.

Posted on 02/01/2010
Copyright © 2024 Richard Paez

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/01/10 at 09:25 PM

Kick ass.

Posted by Ava Blu on 02/01/10 at 09:33 PM

oh man. i could sing this RIGHT NOW. i love it.

Posted by George Hoerner on 02/02/10 at 09:57 PM

I've heard poetry to music before. Specifially ee cummings. I like this write but I guess I'm getting to old - turn in the bat, hang up the gloves, throw the racket away. Poetry seems to be following music into the era of performance. And maybe that is OK. I just can't perform anymore. ha ha. Maybe we should just follow John Cage into silence. But I don't know where that leaves me.

Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 02/14/10 at 06:29 PM

This is very beautiful and should be put to tune. I hear my own melody in my head to your words in this poem. I wish I could share it with you.

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