Favourite McCartney lyrics | Page 2 | Fab Forum | The Beatles Bible

cbatcu said
^^ There has to be a tender heart beating in his chest to write those beautiful lines. I guess I think that because I really do believe that at least once (really more than once) he really has cried for someone who lives in fear and someone who fears the worst.

Then again, acmac, as you and I have mentioned before we tend to see and want to believe the best in Sir Paul and attribute all amounts of wonderfulness to him.

Well, I do believe he is wonderful in many ways. I think he is also, in many ways, a troubled and difficult man. This song was recorded while Linda was dying, so “those who fear the worst” might refer to himself and his family, among other things.

As for having a tender heart, definitely. Paul is renowned for his ability to “put on a bland face,” and I think that’s largely the result of having learnt to deal with being naturally a great big cryer. There are just WAY too many stories of him losing it and bursting into tears for me to think otherwise. You can see it in action in the Kennedy Honors video when James Taylor and Mavis are singing “Let It Be .” His eyes well up, but his face stays amazingly impassive — “I am NOT going to cry on camera, dammit.” As an emotionally private person myself, with an unfortunate tendency toward Sudden and Inconvenient Tears, I can relate. On the one hand, having lots of practice gives you a lot of control, but on the other hand, if that control fails… watch out. ;P

No, nothing on film that I’m aware of, aside from the Kennedy Honors thing I mentioned and one NPR interview where he gets choked up talking about Linda. And a few vids of him in concert, I think, tearing up during “Here Today ” or “LAWR.” As I say, his “game face” is some powerful armor. The crying stories I’m referring to are ones reported by third parties. 

I was just listening to that and thinking how beautiful the words are. I sometimes get a little teary eyed when i hear it,  it makes me think of Paul singing it to Linda. 

I’ll hold you, for as long as you like

I’ll love you, for the rest of my life 

Sob! 

Sorry cbatcu! Think happy thoughts 

Man of a thousand voices, talking perfectly loud.

(This will be the title of the Paul bio/lyric analysis I will probably never write. Well, maybe just “Talking Perfectly Loud.”)

…

Mr. Marks, can you find for me

someone strong and sweet (fitting on my knee)?

She can keep her job if she gets it wrong,

ah, but Mr. Marks, I won’t need her long.

All I need is help for a little while;

she can take dic-tation and learn to smile.

Mr. Marks, can you send her quick?

(‘Cause my re-gu-lar has been getting sick.)

I will promise now that I’ll treat her right

and we’ll rarely be here ’til late at night.

She can be a belly dancer; I don’t need a true romancer.

She can be a diplomat, but I don’t need a girl like that.

She can be a neurosurgeon if she’s doing nothing urgent:

What I need’s a temporary temporary secretary.

…

At the office, where the papers grow, she takes a break,

drinks another coffee and she finds it hard to stay awake.

As she posts another letter to the sound of five,

people gather ’round her and she finds it hard to stay alive.

It’s just another day.

…

Staring from a cardboard castle

down and out

One of life’s young students

finds out what it’s all about

Paper flutters,

angry taxi drivers shout

Weary carriage horses

stand in single file

Someone at a crowded bus stop

wears a friendly smile

Touching nerves

that no one’s heard from in a while.

…

Making up moons in a minor key 

What’ve those tunes got to do with me?

Tell me, darling, where have you been?

Blowing balloons on a windy day

Desolate dunes with a lot to say

Tell me, darling, what have you seen?

Playing guitar on an empty stage

Counting the bars of an iron cage

Help me, darling — what does it mean?

…

that was me

sweating cobwebs

under contract

in the cellar

on T.V.

that was me

…

He settles back, takes a magazine,

kicks off his shoes as he studies the form

of every appealing soubrette. 

But where are the flowers that he used to bring,

and every endearing remark?

Reminders of passionate promises

that he only made in the dark.

In their bed,

she wants to shout at the back of his head

“Look At Me , Look At Me , Look At Me ! I’m afraid —

see what it’s come to? I’m just your mistress and maid.”