Archive for the ‘the beatles 1962-1966’ Category

In My Life

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed,
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places had their moments,
With lovers and friends I still can recall,
Some are dead and some are living,
In my life I’ve loved them all.
But of all these friends and lovers,
There is no one compared with you,
And these mem’ries lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new.
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more.
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more.
In my life I love you more.

Girl

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

Is there anybody going to listen to my story,
All about the girl who came to stay?
She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry,
Still you don’t regret a single day.
Ah girl, girl.
When I think of all the times I tried so hard to leave her,
She will turn to me and start to cry,
And she promises the earth to me and I believe her,
After all this time, I don’t know why.
Ah girl, girl.
She’s the kind of girl who puts you down,
When friends are there, you feel a fool,
When you say she’s looking good,
She acts as if it’s understood,
She’s cool – oh.
Ah girl, girl.
Was she told when she was young the pain would lead to pleasure?
Did she understand it when they said
That a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure,
Will she still believe it when he’s dead?
Ah girl, girl.

Michelle

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

Michelle ma belle
These are words that go together well,
My Michelle,

Michelle ma belle,
Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble.

I love you, I love you, I love you,
That’s all I want to say,
Until I find a way,
I will say the only words I know that you’ll understand.

Michelle ma belle,
Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble.

I need to, I need to, I need to,
I need to make you see,
Oh what you mean to me,
Until I do I’m hoping you will know what I mean.

I love you.

I want you, I want you, I want you,
I think you know by now,
I’ll get to you somehow,
Until I do I’m telling you so you’ll understand.

Michelle ma belle,
Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble.

I will say the only words I know that you’ll understand,
My Michelle.

Yellow Submarine

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

In the town where I was born,
Lived a man who sailed the sea,
And he told us of his life,
In the land of submarines.

So we sailed on to the sun,
Till we found the sea of green,
And we lived beneath the waves,
In our yellow submarine.

We all live in a yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine,
We all live in a yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine,

And our friends are all aboard,
Many more of them live next door,
And the band begins to play.

We all live in a yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine,
We all live in a yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine,

As we live a life of ease,
Everyone of us has all we need,
Sky of blue and sea of green,
In our yellow submarine.

We all live in a yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine,
We all live in a yellow submarine,
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine.

Eleanor Rigby

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

Ah, look at all the lonely people.
Ah, look at all the lonely people.

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window, wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door,
Who is it for?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no-one will hear,
No-one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there,
What does he care?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

Ah, look at all the lonely people.
Ah, look at all the lonely people.

Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name.
Nobody came.
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave.
No-one was saved.

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

Paperback Writer

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

Paperback writer, paperback writer.
Dear Sir or Madam will you read my book,
It took me years to write will you take a look,
Based on a novel by a man named Lear,
And I need a job,
So I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
It’s a dirty story of a dirty man,
And his clinging wife doesn’t understand.
His son is working for the Daily Mail,
It’s a steady job,
But he wants to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
It’s a thousand pages give or take a few,
I’ll be writing more in a week or two,
I can make it longer if you like the style,
I can change it round,
And I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
If you really like it you can have the rights,
It could make a million for you overnight,
If you must return it you can send it here,
But I need a break,
And I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.