Beautiful Sorta

Originally written October 1, 2005.

I have a new favorite song. Or another favorite song; I rarely have just one. Ryan Adams, naturally. I've been obsessed lately, and he's got a new album out, which should arrive on my doorstep in a matter of days, yay! My everlasting thanks to Mark for introducing me to Ryan. Everything has a silver lining, doesn't it?

I've tried to figure out why this song appeals to me. Surely there are others that are more interesting, lyrically, more emotional, more representative of various relationships I've had. I think this song grabs me because of its up-tempo beat (I know I prefer loud, angry, possibly dancable, driving-percussion kind of music), but also because it's laden with irony. Me and my dark, sick, twisted mind--I just live for irony in all forms. Art that is ironic, be it a movie, painting, literature, has always appealed to me. And, as the title indicates, this song has plenty of it.


Beautiful Sorta
All I wanna do is get up
Is get up
Is get up in the morning
In the morning and not wanna die
I feel alright when I think about you
Walking through a star field covered in lights
Wasted like you're losing your job, you're so fired
We're just like the ones we used to make fun of

It's beautiful sorta
Beautiful sorta
Beautiful sorta but not

All I wanna do is get down
Is get down
Is get down in the evening
In the evening and not wanna die
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
I'm buzzing like a jar full of lightning bugs
Walking through a star field covered in lights
Wasted like a bum with somebody's wallet
Pcitures inside of you and me, you and I
So far past sad I'm crazy and scary

It's beautiful sorta
Beautiful sorta
Beautiful sorta but not

I do everything I can to remove you but it hurts
From all the things that we've started

It's beautiful sorta,
Beautiful sorta
Beautiful sorta, but not