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This has been a subject discussed previously  on the List.   Being a younger 
member (though 40) and still very much  into music,  the issue of music lyrics 
as poetry interests me.   Of course, there is a difference and what others 
have said, i.e., the music and  emotion of the singer being an integral part of 
bringing the lyrics to life  versus actual poetry standing as is without the 
need of a guitar or singer, is  certainly true in many, in fact, most cases.  
However, there are  exceptions, such as certain songs by Bob Dylan and others.  
The following  has always been a favorite song of mine.  It was written by 
Justin Haywood  of Moody Blues fame and this song, Forever Autumn, was  
incorporated into a "War of the  Worlds' adaptation.  The adaptation,  of course, 
brings Eliot to mind.  
Artist: Lyrics
Song: FOREVER AUTUMN AND THE  THUNDER Lyrics

CHILD 

JOURNALIST: For three days I  fought my way along roads packed with
refugees, the homeless, burdened with  boxes and bundles containing their 
valuables.
All that was of value to me was  in London, but by the time I reached their 
little
red-brick house, Carrie and  her father were gone.

FOREVER AUTUMN 

The summer sun is fading as  the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will  be much colder
Now you're not here.

I watch the birds fly south across  the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear

I wish that I was flying  with them
Now you're not here.

Like the sun through the trees you came  to love me

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

Through autumn's  golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of  year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'cause you're not  here
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here 

JOURNALIST:  Fire suddenly leapt from house to house, the population panicked 
and
ran -  and I was swept along with them, aimless and lost without Carrie. 
Finally, I  headed
Eastward for the ocean, and my only hope of survival - a boat out of  England.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a  leaf on a breeze you blew away

A gentle rain falls softly on my weary  eyes

As if to hide a lonely tear
My lift will be Forever  Autumn
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not  here 

JOURNALIST: As I hastened through Covent Garden, Blackfriars and  
Billingsgate,
more and more people joined the painful exodus. Sad, weary  women, their 
children
stumbling and streaked with tears, their men bitter and  angry, the rich 
rubbing shoulders
with beggars and outcasts. Dogs snarled and  whined, the horses' bits were 
covered with
foam... and here and there were  wounded soldiers, as helpless as the rest.

We saw tripods wading up the  Thames, cutting through bridges as though
they were paper - Waterloo Bridge,  Westminster Bridge... One appeared above 
Big
Ben.

MARTIANS:  Ulla!

JOURNALIST: Never before in the history of the world had such a  mass of
human beings moved and suffered together. This was no disciplined  march - it 
was a
stampede - without order and without a goal, six million  people unarmed and
unprovisioned, driving headlong. It was the beginning of  the rout of 
civilization, of the
massacre of mankind.

A vast crowd  buffeted me towards the already packed steamer. I looked up 
enviously  at
those safely on board - straight into the eyes of my beloved Carrie! At  
sight of me she
began to fight her way along the packed deck to the  gangplank. At that very 
moment it
was raised, and I caught a last glimpse of  her despairing face as the crowd 
swept me
away from her.

Like the sun  through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew  away.

Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way

You  always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed  now
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not  here 

MARTIANS: Ulla!

JOURNALIST: The steamer began to move slowly  away - but on the landward 
horizon
appeared the silhouette of a Fighting  Machine. Another came, and another, 
striding over
hills and trees, plunging  far out to sea and blocking the exit of the 
steamer. Between
them lay the  silent, grey Ironclad 'Thunder Child'. Slowly it moved towards 
shore;  then,
with a deafening roar and whoosh of spray, it swung about and drove at  full 
speed
towards the waiting Martians.