Have you ever really listened to what it is you’re singing along to? You’d be amazed at the words coming out of your mouth. This blog post is a tribute to some of the lamest lyrics ever written. Kudos to those who wrote them. Leave a comment if you recognize one or can think of some others.
“I just see the dougie when everybody clubbing, and I hate skinny jeans cuz the burner keep rubbin!”
“Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack.”
“Yeah! It’s a party in the U.S.A.”
“Sometimes we sit around, just the two of us on a park bench. Sometimes we swim around, like two dolphins in the oceans of our hearts.”
“Dad took off when you were four years old. There was a good man named Paul Revere. I feel much better baby when you’re near.”
“I want a brand new house on an episode of Cribs. And a bathroom I can play baseball in. And a king size tub big enough for ten . . . plus me.”
“I don’t want to see a ghost; it’s the sight that I fear most. I’d rather have a piece of toast--watch the evening news.”
“What you gonna do with all that junk--all that junk inside that trunk? I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump.”
“Coast to Coast. L.A. to Chicago.”
“In an mmm bop they’re not there. Until you lose your hair. No, but you don’t care.”
“He was a boy. She was a girl. Can I make it any more obvious?”
“There’s no limitations on imagination. Imaginate.”
“I’m just a cheeseburger in paradise.”
“Yesterday was Thursday, today is Friday. We so excited; we gonna have a ball today. Tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes afterwards.”
“I’m blue. Da ba dee da ba die.”
“Magnets--how do they work?”
“La la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la la la la laaa, do do do do do do, ahhhhhh.”
“Cause I’d get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs as they tried to teach me how to dance the foxtrot above my head, a sock hop beneath my bed.”
“How did our eyes get so red and what the hell is on Joey’s head?”
“I threw up in the closet and I don’t care.”
“My lip-gloss is cool. My lip-gloss be poppin’.”
“How come every time you come around, my London, London Bridge wanna go down like London, London, London?”
I can’t even punctuate these. Are musicians getting lazy, or are people just more interested in catchy hooks than they are compelling words? I, Cecily Robertson, lover of words, do hereby give you, the reader, permission to punch anyone involved with the creation of these song lyrics. Let’s hope you have the chance someday.
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