In my head today 🎶

It’s only doubts that we’re counting on fingers broken long ago
I read that with every broken heart we should become more adventurous
If you banish me from your prophets and if I get banished from the kingdom up above
I’d sacrifice money and heaven all for love
Let me be loved, let me be loved

And if my brain quits well I guess then that’s just it
And if my hands stop working you can call me lazy
And if I get pregnant I guess I’ll just have the baby
Let it be loved, let me be loved

I’ve been trying to nod my head but it’s like I’ve got a broken neck
Wanting to say I will as my last testament
For me to be saved and you to be brave we don’t have to walk down that aisle
Cause if marriage ain’t enough
Well, at least we’ll be loved.

I’ve felt the wind on my cheek coming down from the east
And thought about how we are all as numerous as leaves on trees
And maybe ours is the cause of all mankind
Get loved, make more, try to stay alive

I’ve been trying to nod my head but it’s like I’ve got a broken neck
Wanting to say I will as my last testament
For you to be saved and me to be brave we don’t have to walk down that aisle
Cause if marriage ain’t enough
Well at least we’ll be loved

More Adventurous – Rilo Kiley

Phil knows what’s up

There’s too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And there’s not much love to go around
Can’t you see this is the land of confusion?

This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in

Last

This poem was written six days before she committed suicide, and is believed to be her last poem.

It gives me chills.

I’ve been a big Sylvia Plath fan for a long time, and there are two songs about her that I love.

First up: Crackle and Drag by Paul Westerberg.

What’s the matter here?

You never repair

The lady’s cursed with insight

You never fix her, with a cold stare

She’s all broken inside

She made a good go, like a weeping willow

Her limbs clung to the ground

She closed the window, and made a pillow

And lay her head down

And as her baby slept, she took a long deep breath

Now they’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

And the Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

Another head cold, another spirit old

Mmmm, Febuary

Her hair was dirty, and she was 30 in 1963

And while her baby slept she took a long deep breath

And they’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

The Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

And drag, and drag, and drag

She made a good go, for a weeping willow

She stuffed some rags on the floor

She closed the window

She made a pillow on the oven door

And took a long deep breath

While her baby slept

Now they’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

And the Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

They’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

The Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

Hear her blacks crackle and drag

❤️❤️❤️

And then there’s Sylvia Plath by Ryan Adams:

I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

Busted tooth and a smile

And cigarette ashes in her drink

The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week

The kind that goes out on her

To give me a reason, for well, I dunno

And maybe she’d take me to France

Or maybe to Spain and she’d ask me to dance

In a mansion on the top of a hill

She’d ash on the carpets

And slip me a pill

Then she’d get pretty loaded on gin

And maybe she’d give me a bath

How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

And she and I would sleep on a boat

And swim in the sea without clothes

With rain falling fast on the sea

While she was swimming away, she’d be winking at me

Telling me it would all be okay

Out on the horizon and fading away

And I’d swim to the boat and I’d laugh

I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath

And maybe she’d take me to France

Or maybe to Spain and she’d ask me to dance

In a mansion on the top of a hill

She’d ash on the carpets

And slip me a pill

Then she’d get pretty loaded on gin

And maybe she’d give me a bath

How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

❤️❤️❤️