Beyonce Lyric Quotes

But at times words can be a dangerous addition to music — they can pin it down. Words imply that the music is about what the words say, literally, and nothing more. If done poorly, they can destroy the pleasant ambiguity that constitutes much of the reason we love music. That ambiguity allows listeners to psychologically tailor a song to suit their needs, sensibilities, and situations, but words can limit that, too. There are plenty of beautiful tracks that I can’t listen to because they’ve been “ruined” by bad words — my own and others. In Beyonce's song "Irreplaceable," she rhymes "minute" with "minute," and I cringe every time I hear it (partly because by that point I'm singing along). On my own song "Astronaut," I wrap up with the line "feel like I'm an astronaut," which seems like the dumbest metaphor for alienation ever. Ugh.

Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier – Chapter three Elastic Heart by Sia – Chapter Nine Paralyzed by NF – Chapter Seventeen Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush – Chapter Twenty You Broke Me First by Tate McRae – Chapter Twenty-three Let Me Down by Jorja Smith and Stormzy – Chapter Twenty-four I Can’t Make You Love Me by Teddie Swims – Chapter Thirty Dancing with a Stranger by Sam Smith – Chapter Thirty-one Demons by Jacob Lee – Chapter Thirty-Three Halo by Beyonce – Chapter Thirty-six Play with

Brown skin girl Your skin just like pearls The best thing in the world I'd never trade you for anybody else

Beyoncé spins her own bittersweet narratives into art. “I’ma rain, I’ma rain on this bitter love/Tell the sweet I’m new,” she sings on “Freedom.” As bell hooks writes of Beyoncé’s Lemonade in her essay “Moving Beyond Pain,” to be truly free, we must choose beyond simply surviving adversity, we must dare to create lives of sustained optimal well-being and joy. In that world, the making and drinking of lemonade will be a fresh and zestful delight, a real life mixture of the bitter and the sweet, and not a measure of our capacity to endure pain, but rather a celebration of our moving beyond pain.” If Will Cotton’s paintings—- resplendent with pure, idealized fantasy—- are the sweetness we lazily dream of, Walker’s A Subtlety is the sweetness we actually live: rearing up through centuries of hurt and exploitation, planting its feet in the good and the bad, the pleasure and the pain. It crystallizes across the surfaces of our imperfect lives, and makes us shine.