Man, I’m sick of doubt. ― Jim Morrison, from “Severed Garden,” An American Prayer. Released: November 17, 1978. Label: Elektra/Asylum Records.
Take me, to the place I’ve been dreaming of Where the grotesquely lonely meet the grotesquely lonely and they whisper just very softly Please be mine Dearest Love… — Morrissey, from “My Dearest Love,” Swords. (26 October 2009)
These tears I’m wailing, I spill not without reason. Remove them, my dearest love. Take me to the place I’ve been dreaming of, where the grotesquely lonely meet the grotesquely lonely and they whisper, just very softly, Please be mine, Dearest Love. ― Morrissey, from “My Dearest Love,” Swords. (26 October 2009)
I am tired, I am weary. I could sleep for a thousand years, a thousand dreams that would awake me. Different colors made of tears. — The Velvet Underground, from “Venus In Furs,” The Velvet Underground & Nico. Produced by Andy Warhol (Verve, 1967)
Behind every beautiful thing, there is some kind of pain. — Bob Dylan, from “It’s Not Dark Yet,” Time Out Of Mind. (Columbia September 30, 1997_ September 30, 1997)
Got a head full of lightning, a hat full of rain. ― Tom Waits, from “Long Way Home,” Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards (November 21, 2006) Label: Anti/Epitaph
Now I need your hidden love, I’m cold as a new razor blade. You left when I told you I was curious… I never said that I was brave. — Leonard Cohen, from “So Long Marianne,” Songs of Leonard Cohen. (Columbia 1967)
but those storms keep coming back singing birds in sickness sing the same blues songs when they fell out of the emptiness they must have brought along space’s loneliness — Jason Molina (Songs: Ohia), from “Blue Chicago Moon,” Didn’t It Rain LP (Secretly Canadian, 2002)
‘T ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones. — Tom Waits, from “T’aint No Sin (To Take Off Your Skin and Dance Around in Your Bones),” The Black Rider. Original Release Date: October 25, 1993. Island Records.
I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes. I am struck by the feather of your soft reply. The sound of glass speaks quick, disdain and conceals what your eyes fight to explain. ― Jim Morrison, Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. (Vintage; 1st Vintage Books ed edition, December 17, 1989) Originally published 1988.