Most people prefer happy lyrics but a perhaps too-ignored group enjoys sad ones. Such lyrics often provide insight and an odd sort of pleasure.
It is for such people that I’ve assembled this collection. Except for Cat’s in the Cradle, which appears in its entirety, these are selections.
At Seventeen, written by Janis Ian.
I learned the truth at seventeen,
that love was meant for beauty queens.
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
who married young and then retired.
The valentines I never knew.
the Friday night charades of youth
were spent on one more beautiful
at seventeen I learned the truth.
And those of us with ravaged faces,
lacking in the social graces,
desperately remained at home,
inventing lovers on the phone
who called to say "come dance with me"
and murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems at seventeen...
To those of us who knew the pain
of valentines that never came
and those whose names were never called
when choosing sides for basketball.
It was long ago and far away,
the world was younger than today,
when dreams were all they gave for free
to ugly duckling girls like me.
Climbing Uphill, written by Jason Robert Brown, from the show, The Last Five Years.
I'm climbing uphill, Daddy
Climbing uphill.
I'm up every morning at six
and standing in line
with two hundred girls
who are younger and thinner than me,
who have already been to the gym.
I am a good person.
I'm an attractive person.
I am a talented person.
Grant me Grace.
Going Nowhere, written by Phil Cody and Neil Sedaka.
Considering
so many folks, dissatisfied with everything,
who need someone to understand they're lonely, they're lonely.
And they're not alone.
And everywhere
they shrug their shoulders, tell themselves that they don't care,
and all the while they make believe they're happy, oh they're happy,
but not really.
And they're asked to hold the world together,
make it happen, give it children,
Who in turn are turning on to going nowhere.
The I Love You Song, writtenby William Finn, from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.
We always knew you were a winner.
We saw it when you smiled.
Start from the beginning
when you were a beginner,
you were the perfect child.
We always knew,
we always knew
you were a champion.
Your sadness filled my room,
dear if you should feel my gloom,
blame it on me,
blame it on your Daddalee and Mammalee
‘Cause depression runs in our family.
I love you.
I love you.
I love everything about you dear,
and I swear it’s true:
I love you
Cat’s in the Cradle, written by Harry Chapin.
My child arrived just the other day.
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away
and he was talking 'fore I knew it and as he grew,
He'd say, "I'm gonna be like you, dad,
you know I'm gonna be like you."
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
little boy blue and the man in the moon.
"When you coming home, dad?""I don't know when
but we'll get together then.
We'll have a good time then."
My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, "Thanks for the ball, dad, come on let's play.
Can you teach me to throw?" I said, "Not today,
I got a lot to do." He said, "That's ok."
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed.
Said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah,
you know I'm gonna be like him."
Well, he came from college just the other day.
So much like a man I just had to say,
"Son, I'm proud of you. Can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head and he said with a smile,
"What I'd really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys.
See you later. Can I have them please?"
I've long since retired and my son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind."
He said, "I'd love to, dad, if I could find the time.
You see, my new job's a hassle and the kid's got the flu
but it's sure nice talking to you, dad
it's been sure nice talking to you."
And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me
he'd grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.
Rose’s Turn, written by Stephen Sondheim, from the play, Gypsy.
Why did I do it?
What did it get me?
Scrapbooks full of me in the background.
Give 'em love and what does it get ya?
What does it get ya?
One quick look as each of 'em leaves you.
All your life and what does it get ya?
Thanks a lot and out with the garbage,
They take bows and you're battin' zero.
I had a dream.
I dreamed it for you, June.
It wasn't for me, Herbie.
And if it wasn't for me
then where would you be,
Miss Gypsy Rose Lee?
Well, someone tell me, when is it my turn?
Don't I get a dream for myself?
Starting now it's gonna be my turn.
Gangway, world, get off of my runway!
Starting now I bat a thousand!
This time, boys, I'm taking the bows and
everything's coming up Rose!
Everything's coming up roses!
Everything's coming up roses
this time for me!
For me! For me! For me! For me! For me!
For me!
For Good, written by Stephen Schwartz, from the play Wicked.
It well may be
that we will never meet again
in this lifetime.
So let me say before we part:
So much of me
is made of what I learned from you.
You'll be with me
like a handprint on my heart.
And now whatever way our stories end,
I know you'll have rewritten mine
by being my friend.
Marty Nemko's bio is in Wikipedia.