Iambic tetrameter

Posted: February 14, 2011 in Song Writing

Following on from my post about finishing things, here are the lyrics I’ve written to a new song.

Youri’s had the idea for this song for a long time. The chorus is lifted from a French poem and the beat is pretty rapid and house-y. I’ve been thinking about prose and poetry recently. I know Shakespeare wrote a lot of his stuff in iambic pentameter, and I’ve been wanting to try something similar with a song. The beat that Youri’s got for this song lends itself really well to iambic tetrameter, which is the style that Byron used in his poem “She walks in beauty” so I thought I’d give it a go and it actually works really well. Some might say it’s showing off, but I don’t care.

The song is called “Sans me parler” and the lyrics go

She stops at her favourite café
On just another Saturday
He’s sitting reading Georges Bataille
And sipping a skinny latté.
He glances up and their eyes meet
Her heart literally skips a beat
Tries not to stare but can’t succeed
Her mouth goes dry, her legs go weak
She’d read about this in books
How much is said with just a look
He runs his fingers through his hair
She steps outside to get some air
He follows now the scene is set
She closed her eyes and held her breath
He lit another cigarette,
He didn’t say a word then left.

Sans me regarder il h’allume
une cigarette sans me parler
Sans me parler il est parti.

She’s moving on trying to forget,
She believes in life with no regrets
But in her head plays the same song
With a different meaning no he has gone
He keeps tugging at her mind
Ephemeral and undefined
Promise falls like autumn leaves
She’s finding it hard to believe
How much is said without a word
She cursed the feelings that he’s stirred
She doesn’t even know his name,
She’s sure their paths will cross again
She downs her shot and shakes her head,
Decides she’s going to dance instead
She shakes her hips and moves her feet
She loves this deep, dark funky beat.
Now, call it fate or call it chance,
She takes a random sideways glance
What she sees stops her in her tracks
She sees him. He’s not looking back.

Sans me regarder il h’allume
une cigarette sans me parler
Sans me parler il est parti.

Not looking back, she sees him, he’s not looking back
Not looking back, she sees him, he’s not looking back

He’s focused on a random blonde
Like they’re sharing a common bond
He runs his fingers through her hair
He doesn’t even look at her.
He waves an unlit cigarette
She cursed the moment that they met
She doesn’t even pause for breath
She didn’t say a word – just left.

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