Worst lyrics ever?  Orzabal’s an amateur.

Where do you even start…?

(Well, I start by congratulating your wife on squeezing out 7lbs 12oz of bouncing baby boy.  I don’t discount entirely the help you gave her, but in the overall scheme of things…)

I know you don’t want the obvious, but the obvious are obvious for the fact that they are truly dreadful:

I’m as serious as cancer
When I say rhythm is a dancer
(Snap – Rhythm Is A Dancer)

I don’t want to see a ghost -
It’s the sight that I fear most.
I’d rather have a piece of toast
And watch the evening news
(Des’Ree – Life)

New Romanticism was a real lyrical low point.

War is stoopid
And people stoopid
(Culture Club – The War Song)

Don’t say you’re easy on me:
You’re about as easy as a nuclear war
(Duran Duran – Is There Something I Should Know?)

She used to be a diplomat
But now she’s down the laundromat
(Spandau Ballet – Highly Strung)

99 Decision Street -
99 ministers meet
To worry, worry, super-scurry,
Call out the troops out in a hurry
(Nena – 99 Red Balloons)

Everybody have fun tonight:
Everybody Wang Chung tonight
(Wang Chung – Everybody Wang Chung Tonight)

Take your baby by the heel,
And do the next thing that you feel.
Take your baby by the hair,
And pull her closer – there, there, there.
Take your baby by the ears,
And play upon her darkest fears.
(Wang Chung – Dance Hall Days)

Early 80s popsters were clearly too obsessed with eyeliner to worry about the lyrics.

Spreading my wings a little…

It seems like everybody’s got a plan:
It’s kinda like Nashville with a tan
(Shawn Mullins – Lullaby)

Don’t waste your time
Because the doggone girl is mine
(Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney – The Girl Is Mine)

Hey, fat fellow, with the hair coloured yellow
(Lynyrd Skynyrd – Gimme Three Steps proves the pilot got it right)

Got a telegram:
Momma passed away
While making home made jam
(The Supremes – Living In Shame)

In the morning when he awoke
All I left him was a note.
I told him, ‘I am the flower, you are the seed:
We walked in the garden, we planted a tree.’
(Heart – All I Want To Do)

What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home,
Back up to heaven all alone?
Nobody calling on the phone
‘Cept for the Pope, maybe, in Rome.
(Joan Osborne – One Of Us)

Everything ever committed to tape by Vanilla Ice:

Take heed
‘Cos I’m a lyrical poet
(Ice Ice Baby)

Er, no you’re really not, mate.

Or Craig David.

Or Howard Jones.

Don’t crack up.
Bend your brain.
See both sides.
Throw off your mental chains.
Woo-hoo-hoo.
(New Song)

Or Alanis Morissette (apart from Uninvited).  Actually, no – Uninvited‘s lyrics are atrocious, too…

The entire hypocritical lyric of John Lennon’s Imagine.

After the last time I criticised him, I daren’t even mention the serial lyrical crimes against humanity committed by Mick Jagger.

Shakira’s Wherever, Whenever takes some beating:

Lucky my breasts are small and humble
So you don’t confuse them with mountains

Ri-ight, luv.

On a similar theme, where would we be without everyone’s favourite pre-op transsexual, Fergie:

My humps, my humps,
My lovely lady lumps
(My Humps)

Mungo Jerry’s In The Summertime includes not only an invitation to drink and drive but also:

If her Daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal:
If her Daddy’s poor, just do what you feel

Nice: indecently assaulting the poverty-stricken is always a winner in my book.

Sadly, two songs in my all-time top ten probably have to be mentioned.

Losing My Religion is a wonderful record but

Oh, life
Is bigger,
Bigger than you
And you are not me

is no way to start a song.

(Nor, incidentally, is:

Your butt is mine

particularly if you are Michael Jackson.  He’s Bad, alright…)

And, much as it pains me to admit it, one of my all-time favourite Beatles songs contains one of the worst lyrics of all time:

I look at the floor
And I see it needs sweeping:
Still my guitar gently weeps
(While My Guitar Gently Weeps)

Hmm.  Like totally karmic, George.