Lyrics

By Dan Schmuland

A poetic anthology of song lyrics, crafted over decades in the life of a failed, quiet artist. Can lyrics be poetry? Some more than others but overall....sure, why not?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Schmuland
• Release date: Feb 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224660346

Book preview

About the Asshole

Lover, Fighter, Poet, Asshole

None of the above. All of the above. Then again, aren’t we all?

What can I say about me that hasn’t already been said before? Probably a few things but then, how interesting would that actually be? Not very is the correct response. But here I sit, writing more words and thinking more thoughts. I’ve done this for as long as I can remember and I’ll probably do it until I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. It’s therapy of a sort but sometimes I think that it may cause more harm than good. But I digress. I’ve written a shitload of songs over the course of my life and if not for nothing, some are quite poetic. So here ya go. For what it’s worth.

Poetry vs Lyrics (A Quandary)

Can song lyrics stand alone as poetry? I think that some definitely can whereas for others, it just might be too big a leap. Regardless, I write music with serious intent toward the lyrical content therein. Sometimes I simply choose the words because they hit the groove in a  way that I like, but other times they are absolutely the strength and focus of the piece. Either way,  they are complete unto themselves. Ergo, lyrics are a form of poetry. Tone poetry, by any other name, is still poetry.

I am a writer. It makes no nevermind to me what particular form my writing takes. Songwriter. Poet. Author. Artist. It’s all expression and it’s all me. That doesn’t make it great or even good. It also doesn’t make it shit. That’s not for me to say. Subjectivity looms large in any field and so I simply choose to carry on and write as I see (and feel) fit. If I don’t do it, I die. Maybe not physically but the death of a spirit might even be worse than a corporeal demise. We are all just a batch of neurons, continually firing electrical impulses; making memories, thinking thoughts, doing deeds. Over the span of a lifetime we create a self that is derived from those firings and we end up with a stockpile of beliefs, desires, hates and dreams. Trying to make some kind of useful sense of it all lies within the realm of our language and our words.  

I love words. How they sound. How they intertwine and portray. How they lie and dismay. They express, imbue and inflect. They create who we believe ourselves to be. Or not to be. Words are my sex, my drugs, my rock and roll and they’re very good indeed.

These are my songs. These are the lyrics. These are the words.

The Albums

Dan Schmuland

i: treefalls: portrait of a quiet artist

It’s Only In My Head

Sooner or Later

Again

These Bones and Dreams

The Hopeless and the Hopeful

Wasteland (of regret)

Where Does It Go?

Three Chords and the Truth

As Real As It Gets

Ten Rivers Run

Remember (the greener grass of smoke and mirrors)

I am Me

Thirteen

Rain

Now You Know (mom)

Thinking Everyman

The Untimely Demise of the Unsellable Soul

Last Chance to Dance

Square Peg Round Hole

Fragile Hope

Treefalls Suite:

I: Stories

II: Shy Kid From a Small Town

III: Deeply Personal Random Moments

IV: Here I Am

Dance Monkey Dance

Anti-Social

Butterfly (Amy)

If I Asked You?

Never State of Mind

My Life is a Song

ii: Back

Johnny’s Still Good

I Don’t Judge

Things I’ll Never Want

Blue

Not Good Enough

The Wrong Revolution

Invisible

What Makes the Man?

It’s Mostly In My Head

Noises

It’s Not About You

The Non-Drinking Song

Oh Rosalie

The Sound and the Fury

More Memories Than Plans

iii: 60

60

Let Life Live

Sometimes

Whatever

The Darkest Dream Can Shine The Brightest Light

Lost (Inside)

The Ego and the Art

Paper and Pen

Sins of the Father

My Lovin’ Hate

Stupid Me

Beautiful Dilemma

The Ballad of Everything and Nothing

The Life and Death of a Sciolist Rock Star and His Reconciled Path of Existential Loneliness (The Shiniest Button Wins)

It’s Been a Ride

Knülla Dig

(a DS ghost project)

i: Hell in a Handbasket

Something From Nothing

The Day

Nothing Here For Me

Lost and Found

Long Road Back

Storm Comin’

Divided by One

I Don’t Know What I Want Anymore

Better Off Dead

If Only I

ii: The White Album

Burn In Hell

Became

Crunch Driver Flip Zone

Everybody

Rain On This Guitar

What’s In the Box?

Brain Dead on King Street

Can’t Change Love

Little Bit of Love

She Lives in my Head

This Love Is (Killing Me)

Yeah

iii: The Green Album

Turning

On and On (Ashes in Your Hand)

Like It or Not

Something Left To Say

It Ain’t Right

Pick Me Up, Hold Me Up

Wag the Dog

Take A Walk With Me

This Forest of Fallen Trees

I: These Things

II: It Goes

III: Waiting

IV: I Used To

V: I Was Gone

VI: Everything Will Go Away

River

Let It Roll

Oh No

The Old Playground Is Gone (My American Pie)

Hey Hey (Monkey See, Monkey Do)

I Poured My Heart Out

The Dan Schmuland Project

The Observation of the Human Condition

Unsatisfied

My Hypnotic Dream

Give Me

Cold November

Bitter and Twisting

Falling Through

Asylum

Burn My Lies

Hey Tommy

Desperate Lullaby

Let It Go

Tragic Life (Parts One and Two)

Age of Reason

1. Too Far Removed

Treefalls: portrait of a quiet artist

C. 2017

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After a long, long sabbatical from any kind of writing, mostly due to the shards of a broken ego strewn amongst the various corners of my damaged psyche, I decided to try to write again. But this time was going to be different. Why you ask? Because this time, there were no delusions of grandeur, nor any intention of pursuing fame, glory and riches via shameless self-promotion or any kind of promotion for that matter. This was simply songwriting for songwriting’s sake. Art for art’s sake.A labor of love if you will. Hence the title. The question being, under those parameters, would I still find value in the pursuit?

When you’re young, you dream the dreams of magical realms with endless possibilities, where you are the star, the hero, the