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Lou Reed
Lou Reed


Background information
Birth name Lewis Allan Reed
Born March 2, 1942
Born place Brooklyn, New York United States
Genre(s) Rock
Glam Rock
Art Rock
Experimental Rock
Noise
Years active 1965—present
Label(s) RCA Records
Sire Records
Matador Records
MGM Distribution
Associated acts Gorillaz
The Velvet Underground
John Cale
Nico
David Bowie
Mick Ronson
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  L  →  Lou Reed  →  Albums  →  Songs for Drella

Lou Reed Album


Songs for Drella (1990)
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. . .



(feat. John Cale)



When you're growing up in a small town
When you're growing up in a small town
When you're growing up in a small town
You say no one famous ever came from here

When you're growing up in a small town
and you're having a nervous breakdown
and you think that you'll never escape it
Yourself or the place that you live

Where did Picasso come from
There's no Michelangelo coming from Pittsburgh
If art is the tip of the iceberg
I'm the part sinking below

When you're growing up in a small town
Bad skin, bad eyes, gay and fatty
LyricsPeople look at you funny
When you're in a small town

My father worked in construction
It's not something for which I'm suited
Oh, what is something for which you are suited ?
Getting out of here

I hate being odd in a small town
If they stare let them stare in New York City
As this pink eyed painting albino
How far can my fantasy go ?

I'm no Dali coming from Pittsburgh
No adorable lisping Capote
My hero, oh, do you think I could meet him ?
I'd camp out at his front door

There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out

When you're growing up in a small town
You know you'll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town

You hate it and you'll know you have to leave


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Please
Come over to 81st street I'm in the apartment
above the bar
You know you can't miss it, it's across from the subway
and the tacky store with the mylar scarves
My skin's as pale as outdoors moon
my hair's silver like a Tiffany watch
I like lots of people around me but don't kiss hello
and please don't touch

It's a Czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
The way to make friends Andy is invite them up for tea
Open house, open house

I've got a lot of cats, here's my favorite
she's lady called Sam
I made a paper doll of her, you can have it
LyricsThat's what I did when I had St.Vitus dance

It's a Czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
Give people little presents so they remember me
Open house, open house

Someone bring the vegetables
someone please bring heat
My mother showed up yesterday
we need something to eat

I think I got a job today they want me to draw shoes
The ones I drew were old and used, they told me to draw something new
Open house, open house

Fly me to the moon
fly me to a star
But there are no stars in the New York sky
they're all on the ground

You scared yourself with music, I scared myself with paint
I drew 550 different shoes today, it almost made me faint
Open house, open house
Open house, open house


. . .


You've got the money, I've got the time
You want your freedom, make your freedom mine
'Cause I've got the style it takes
and money is all that it takes
You've got connexions and I've got the art
You like my attention and I like your looks
and I have the style it takes and you know the people it takes
Why don't you sit right over there, we'll do a movie portrait
I'll turn the camera on and I won't even be there
A portrait that moves, you look great I think
I'll put the Empire State Building on your wall
For 24 hours glowing on your wall
Watch the sun rise above it in your room
Wallpaper art, a great view
I've got a Brillo box and I say it's art
It's the same one you can buy at any supermarket
'Cause I've got the style it takes
And you've got the people it takes
This is a rock group called The Velvet Underground
I show movies on them
Do you like their sound
'Cause they have a style that grates and I have art to make
Let's do a movie here next week
We don't have sound but you're so great
You don't have to speak
You've got the style it takes (kiss)
You've got the style it takes (eat)
I've got the style it takes (couch)
We've got the style it takes (kiss)

. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Andy was a Catholic
the ethic ran through his bones
He lived alone with his mother
collecting gossip and toys

Every Sunday when he went to Church
He'd kneel in his pew and say
"It's work, all that matters is work."

He was a lot of things
what I remember most he'd say
"I've got to bring home the bacon
someone's got to bring home the roast."

He'd get to the factory early
If you'd ask him he'd tell you straight out
It's work
Lyrics
No matter what I did it never seemed enough
he said I was lazy, I said I was young
He said, "How many songs did you write ?"
I'd written zero, I'd lied and said, "Ten."

"You won't be young forever
You should have written fifteen"
It's work

"You ought to make things big
people like it that way
And the songs with the dirty words
make sure your record them that way"

Andy liked to stir up trouble
he was funny that way
He said, "It's just work

Andy sat down to talk one day
he said decide what you want
Do you want to expand your parameters
or play museums like some dilettante

I fired him on the spot
he got red and called me a rat
It was the worst word that he could think of
And I've never seen him like that
It's work, I thought he said it's just work

Andy said a lot of things
I stored them all away in my head
Sometimes when I can't decide what I should do
I think what would Andy have said

He'd probably say you think too much
That's 'cause there's work that you don't want to do
It's work, the most important thing is work
It's work, the most important thing is work


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



The trouble with a classicist he looks at a tree
That's all he sees, he paints a tree
The trouble with a classicist he looks at the sky
He doesn't ask why, he just paints a sky

The trouble with an impressionist, he looks at a log
And he doesn't know who he is, standing, staring, at this log
And surrealist memories are too amorphous and proud
While those downtown macho painters are just alcoholic

The trouble with impressionist is [x4]

The trouble with personalities, they're too wrapped up in style
It's too personal, they're in love with their own guile
They're like illegal aliens trying to make a buck
They're driving gypsy cabs but they're thinking like a truck

The trouble with personalities is [x4]

I like the druggy downtown kids who spray paint walls and trains
I like their lack of training, their primitive technique
I think sometimes it hurts you when you stay too long in school
I think sometimes it hurts you when you're afraid to be called a fool

The trouble with classicists is [x4]


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Starlight open wide, starlight open up you door
This is New York calling with movies on the street
Movies with real people, what you get is what you see
Starlight open wide, Andy's Cecil B. DeMille

Come on L.A. give us a call
We've got superstars who talk, they'll do anything at all
Ingrid, Viva, Little Joe, Baby Jane, and Eddie S.
But you better call us soon before we talk ourselves to death

Starlight open wide everybody is a star
Split screen 8-hour movies, we've got color, we've got sound
Won't you recognize us, we're everything you hate
Andy loves old Hollywood movies, he'll scare you hypocrites to death

You know that shooting up's for real
That person who's screaming, that's the way he really feels
LyricsWe're all improvising, five movies in a week
If Hollywood doesn't call us, we'll be sick

Starlight open wide, do to movies what you did to art
Can you see beauty in ugliness, or is it playing in the dirt
There are stars out on the New York streets, we want to capture them on film
But if no one wants to see them, we'll make another and another

Starlight let us in that magic room
We've all dreamt of Hollywood, it can't happen too soon
Won't you give us a million dollars the rent is due
And will give you 2 movies and a painting
Starlight open wide !


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause trouble for me
Faces and names

If we all looked the same and we all had the same name
I wouldn't be jealous of you or you jealous of me
Faces and names

I always fall in love with someone who looks
the way I wish that I could be
I'm always staring at someone who hurts
And the one they hurt is me

Faces and names, to me they're all the same
If I looked like you and you looked like me
There'd be less trouble you see

LyricsFaces and names, I wish they'd go away
I'd disappear into that wall and never talk
Faces and names

I wish I was a robot or a machine
Without a feeling or a thought
People who want to meet the name I have
Are always disappointed when they meet me

Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause problems for me
Faces and names

I'd rather be a hole in the wall, looking out on the other side
I'd rather look and listen, listen and not talk
To faces and names

If I had a breakdown when I was a kid
I lost my hair when I was young
If you dress older when you're not
As your really age you look the same

If we all looked the same, we wouldn't play these games
Me dressing for you and you dressing for me
Undressing for me

Faces and names, if they all were the same
You wouldn't be jealous of me or me jealous of you
Me jealous of you, me jealous of you

Your face and your name, your face and your name
Faces and names, faces and names


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



I think images are worth repeating
images repeated from a painting
Images taken from a painting
from a photo worth re-seeing

I love images worth repeating
project them upon the ceiling
Multiply them with silk screening
see them with a different feeling

Images, oh, images
Images, oh, images

Some say images have no feeling
I think there's a deeper meaning
Mechanical precision or so it's seeming
instigates a cooler feeling
Lyrics
I love multiplicity of screenings
things born anew display new meanings
I think images are worth repeating
and repeating and repeating

Images, oh, images
Images, images

I'm no urban idiot savant
spewing paint without any order
I'm no sphinx, no mystery enigma
what I paint is very ordinary

I don't think I'm old or modern
I don't think I think I'm thinking
It doesn't matter what I'm thinking
It's the images that are worth repeating

Ah, repeating, images
Images

If you're looking for a deeper meaning
I'm as deep as this high ceiling
If you think technique is meaning
you might find me very simple

You might think that images boring
Cars and cans and chairs and flowers
You might find me personally boring
Hammer, sickle, Mao Tse Tong

Mao Tse Tong
Images, images, images

I think that it bears repeating
the images upon the ceiling
I love images worth repeating
and repeating and repeating

Images, images
Oh, images, oh, images


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Friends have said to lock the door
and have an open house no more
The said the Factory must change
and slowly slip away

But if I have to live in fear
where will I get my ideas
With all those crazy people gone
will I slowly slip away

Still there's no more Billy Name
and Ondine is not the same
Wonton and the Turtle gone
Slowly slip away
Slowly slip away

If I close the Factory door
Lyricsand don't see those people anymore
If I give in to infamy
I'll slowly slip away

I know it seems that friends are right
Hello daylight, goodbye night
But starlight is so quiet here
Think I'll slowly slip away

What can I do by myself
it's good to here from someone else
It's good to hear a crazy voice
That will not slip away
Will not slip away

If I have to live in fear
my ideas will slowly slip away

If I have to live in fear
I'm afraid my life will slip away

If you can't see me past my door
Why your thoughts could slowly slip away

If I have to lock the door
another life exists no more slip away

Friends have said to lock the door
Watch out for who comes through the door
The said the Factory must change

But I don't


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



It wasn't me who shamed you, it's not fair to say that
You wanted to work I gave you a chance at that
It wasn't me who hurt you, that's more credit that I'm worth
Don't threaten me with the things you'll do to you

It wasn't me who shamed you, it wasn't me who brought you down
You did it to yourself without any help from me
It wasn't me who hurt you, I showed you possibilities
The problems you had were there before you met me

I didn't say this had to be
You can't blame these things on me
It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me
I know she's dead, it wasn't me

It wasn't me who changed you, you did it to yourself
I'm not an excuse for the hole you dropped in
LyricsI'm not simple minded but I'm not father to you at all
Death exists but you do things to yourself

I never said give up control
I never said stick a needle in your arm and die
It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me
I know she's dead but it wasn't me

It wasn't me who shamed you, who covered you with mud
You did it to yourself without any help from me
You act as I could've told you or stopped you like some god
But people never listen and you know that that's a fact

I never said slit your wrists and die
I never said throw your life away
It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me
You're killing yourself, you can't blame me


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Valerie Solanis took the elevator
got off at the 4th floor
Valerie Solanis took the elevator
got off at the 4th floor
She pointed the gun at Andy saying
you cannot control me anymore

I believe there's got to be some retribution
I believe an eye for an eye is elemental
I believe that something's wrong if she's alive right now

Valerie Solanis took three steps
pointing at the floor
Valerie Solanis waved her gun
pointing at the floor
From inside her idiot madness spoke
and bang, Andy fell onto the floor
Lyrics
I believe life's serious enough for retribution
I believe being sick is no excuse and
I believe I would've pulled the switch on her myself

When they got him to the hospital
his pulse was gone they thought that he was dead
His guts were pouring from his wounds
onto the floor they thought that he was dead
Not until years later would
the hospital do to him what she could not, what she could not

"Where were you, you didn't come to see me"
Andy said, "I think I died, why didn't you come to see me"
Andy said, "it hurt so much, they took blood from my hand"

I believe there's got to be some retribution
I believe there's got to be some retribution
I believe we are all the poorer for it now

Visit me, visit me
Visit me, visit me
Visit me, why didn't you visit me
Visit me, why didn't you visit me
Visit me, visit me
Visit me, why didn't you visit me


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



I really care a lot
although I look like I do not
Since I was shot
there's nobody but you

I know I look blase (* accented on "e")
party Andy's what the papers say
At dinner I'm the one who pays
for a nobody like you

Nobody but you, a nobody like you
Since I got shot, there's nobody but you

Won't you decorate my house
I'll sit there quiet as a mouse
You know me I like to look a lot
at nobody like you
Lyrics
I'll hold your hand and slap my face
I'll tickle you to your disgrace
Won't you put me in my proper place
a nobody like you

Sundays I pray a lot
I'd like to wind you up and paint your clock
I want to be what I am not
for a nobody like you

The bullet split my spleen and lung
the doctors said I was gone
Inside I've got some shattered bone
for nobody but you

Nobody but you, a nobody like you
Shattered bone, for nobody but you

I'm still not sure I didn't die
and if I'm dreaming I still have bad pains inside
I know I'll never be a bride
to nobody like you

I wish I had a stronger chin
my skin was good, my nose was thin
This is no movie I'd ask to be in
with a nobody like you

Nobody like you, a nobody like you
All my life

It's been nobodies like you


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



It was a very cold clear fall night.
I had a terrible dream the other night. Billy Name and Brigid were
playingunder my stair case on the secaond floor about two o'clock
in the morning I woke up because Amos and Archie had started barking.
That made me very angry because I wasn't feeling well and I told them.
I was very cross the real me, that they just better remenber waht
happened to Sam the Bad Cat that was left at home and got sick and went pussy heaven.
It was a very cold clear fall night. Some snowfalkes were falling,
gee it was so beautiful, and so I went to get my camera to take some
pictures. And then I was taking the pictures but the exposure thing
wasn't right and I was going to call Fred or Gerry to find out how
to get it set but oh it was late and then I remembered they were still
probably at dinner and anyway I felt really bad and didn't want to
talk to anybody anyway but the snowflakes were so beautiful and real
looking and I really wanted to hold them. And that's when I heard
the voices from down the hall near the stairs. So I got a flashlight
and I was scared and I went out into the hallway. There's been all
Lyricskinds of troubles lately in the neighborhood and someone's got to
bring home the bacon and anyway there were Brigid and Billy playing.
And under the stair case was a little meadow sort of like the park at
23rd street where all the young kids go and play frisbee, gee that
must be fun, maybe we should do an article on that in the magazine,
butthey'll just tell me I'm stupid and it won't sell, but I'll just
hold my ground this time, I mean it's my magazine isn't it?
So I was thinking that as the snowflakes fell and I heard those
voices having so much fun. Gee it would be so great to have some
fun. So I called Billy, but either he didn't hear me or he didn't
want to answer which was so strange because even if I don't like
reunions I've always loved Billy. I'm so gald he's working I mean
it's different than Ondine. He keeps touring with those movies and
he doesn't even pay us and the film, I mean the film's just going
to disintegrate and then waht. I mean he's so normal off of drugs.
I just don't get it.
And then I saw John Cale. And he's been looking really great. He's
been coming by the office to exercise with me. Ronnie said I have
a muscle but he's been really mean since he went to AA. I mean what
does it mean when you give up drinking and then you're still so mean.
He says I'm being lazy but I'm not, I'm just can't find any ideas.
I mean I'm just not, let's face it, going to get any ideas up at the
office. And seeing John made me think of the Velvets and I had been
thinking about them when I was on St. Marks Place going to that
new gallery those sweet new kids have opened, but the thought I
was old, and then I saw the old Dom, the old club where we did our
first shows. It was so great. And I don't understand about that
Velvet's first album. I mean I did the cover and I was the producer
and I always see it repacaged and I've never gotten a penny from it.
How could that be. I should call Henry, but it was good seeing John,
I did a cover for him, but I did in black and white and he change
it to color. It would have been worth more if he'd left it my way
but you can never tell any body anything, I've leaned that.
I treid calling again to Billy and John but they wouldn't recognize
me it was like I wasn't there. Why won't they let me in. And then
I saw Lou I'm so mad at him. Lou Reed got married and didn't invite me.
I mean is it because he thought I'd bring too many people. I don't
get it. he could have at least called. I mean he's doing so great.
Why doesn't he call me? I saw him at the MTV show and he was one row
away and he didn't even say hello. I don't get it. You know I hate Lou
I really do. He won't even hire us for his videos. And I was proud of him.
I was so scared today. There was blood leaking thought my shirt
from those old scars from being shot. And the corset I wear to keep
my insides in was hurting. And I did three sets of fifteen pushups and
four sets of ten situps. But then my insides hurt and I saw drops of
blood on my shirt and I remember the doctors saying I was dead. And
then later they had to take blood out of my hand 'couse they ran out
or veins but then all this thinking was making me an old grouch and
you can't do anything anyway so if they wouldn't let me play with
them in my own dream I was just going to have to make another and
another and another. Gee wouldn't it be funny if I died in this dream
before I could make another one up.
And Nobody Calld.


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Train entering the city
I lost myself and never come back
Took a trip around the world, and never came back
Black silhouettes, crisscrossed tracks, never came back

Forever changed [x2]

You might think I'm frivolous, uncaring and cold
You might think I'm frivolous, depends on your point of view
Society andy, who paints and records them
The high and the low, never turn back

Forever changed [x4]

Got to get to the city, get a job
Got to get some work, to see me through
My old life's behind, I see you quickly receding
LyricsMy life's disappearing, disappearing from view

Hong Kong, and I was changed
Burma and Thailand, and I was changed
A few good friends, to see me through
Henry and Brigid, to see me through
Only art, to see me through
Only heart, to see me through
My old life's disappearing, just feelin' from view

Forever changed [x2]
I was, forever changed


. . .



(feat. John Cale)



Andy it's me, haven't seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
Hello it's me

I really miss you, I really miss your mind
I haven't heard ideas like that in such a long, long time
I loved to watch you draw and watch you paint
But when I saw you last, I turned away

When Billy Name was sick and locked up in his room
You asked me for some speed, I though it was for you
I'm sorry that I doubted your good heart
Things always seem to end before they start

Hello it's me, that was a great gallery show
Your cow wallpaper and your floating silver pillows
LyricsI wish I paid more attention when they laughed at you
Hello it's me

"Pop goes pop artist," the headline said
"Is shooting a put-on, is Warhol really dead ?"
You get less time for stealing a car
I remember thinking as I heard my own record in a bar

They really hated you, now all that's changed
But I have some resentments that can never be unmade
You hit me where it hurt I didn't laugh
Your Diaries are not a worthy epitaph

Oh well now Andy, guess we've got to go
I hope some way somehow you like this little show
I know it's late in coming but it's the only way I know
Hello it's me, goodnight Andy

Goodbye, Andy


. . .


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