Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.
Below is an Amy Winehouse song, anagrammed into another song in her honor and from her perspective.
It also contains a visual tribute detailed below, which involves her full name.
See the tribute here. |
The full lyrics of the song "Tears Dry On Their Own"
written and performed by Amy Jade Winehouse
All I can ever be to you
Is the darkness that we knew
And this regret I got accustomed to
Once it was so right
When we were at our high
Waiting for you in the hotel at night
I knew I hadn't met my match
But every moment we could snatch
I don't know why I got so attached
It's my responsibility
And you don't owe nothing to me
But to walk away I have no capacity
[Chorus]
He walks away
The sun goes down
He takes the day, but I'm grown
And in your wake, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own
I don't understand
Why do I stress the man
When there's so many bigger things at hand
We could've never had it all
We had to hit a wall
So this is inevitable withdrawal
Even if I stop wanting you
And perspective pushes through
I'll be some next man's other woman soon
I can't play myself again
I should just be my own best friend
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men
[Chorus]
He walks away
The sun goes down
He takes the day, but I'm grown
And in your wake, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own
So we are history
Your shadow covers me
The sky above ablaze
[Chorus]
He walks away
The sun goes down
He takes the day, but I'm grown
And in your wake, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own
I wish I could say no regrets
And no emotional debts
'Cause as we kiss goodbye, the sun sets
So we are history
Your shadow covers me
The sky above ablaze, that only lovers see
[Chorus]
He walks away
The sun goes down
He takes the day, but I'm grown
And in your wake, my blue shade
My tears dry on their own
He walks away
The sun goes down
He takes the day but I am grown
And in your wake
My deep shame
My tears dry on their own... [Repeated]
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Waking up with this funny sensation,
Trying to stand, but the body's too weak.
This crazy heart's working anyway, baby,
The soul won't leave if it can speak.
It seems so nice, the sound I hear near death,
That's why this song is but a wounded breath.
Those who just love me for me earnestly
Sense why it moves me - sound set them free;
They may even dig my shadowy career...
The ones unmoved dehumanise those tears.
The shady aches in wounds I carry still
Can someday fade; no, no, I know they will,
But nowadays, your gal's a damaged star;
The eyeshadow cannot hide the wretched scar.
Old me, new me - none would cure the curse,
The way that I chose makes the atmosphere much worse;
That's why your sweetheart would soon be gone -
Even the rhythm won't renew these bones...
Looking up with this awkward sensation,
Dying to hear a pulse, but losing control.
The old brain I harmed works anyway, baby,
The soul won't go before it's whole.
Okay, I know it's time, but should I?
Okay, I should withdraw, but would I?
Baby, I know, death is the key to my art
Though I know I go a bit far with my heart;
Always a diva, I played a dope or an arse,
Waking in yards and doing Amstel in bars...
Delight me, sweety; can we ditch my 'hood
Then buy us a dreary new duplex in Hollywood?
Well, not me, handsome; harmony is hard;
Your cheer is just a dated vow in that regard:
Sugar, could we restore a love we knew?
Would it gain me a hug I know is true?
It never can - my human mask is wrecked,
The sunny sky's a haven for my weary neck;
Death turns into a land of no stress
That wakens while I drown in sudden happiness...
Going up with this awesome sensation,
Trying to move, but the body's not there.
These crazy wings are working anyway, baby,
The soul's not gone. It's everywhere.
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A Shakespeare sonnet anagrammed into a sonnet commemorating Steve Jobs in 3 ways. The first is an acrostic of his full name; the other 2 are explained below. |
Shakespeare's Sonnet One Hundred and Eight
What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
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See Why It Is Good To Try
See how they've thrived, the persons we admired?
They had the moral courage to be right;
Each of these expert men have then inspired
Vain men who follow others to new heights.
Enslave your ego to become its master,
Not someone that will strictly want and need;
Proud heart, and brains that truly function faster,
Are funny quirks that help you to succeed.
Unfit and half-baked schemes are marked as trite,
Learn what says "deep" - and what says "gimmicky";
Just have that fiercer drive to know what's right:
One tiny intuition is the key.
Bright visionaries somehow end up winning -
So if we fail, they are already grinning.
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The anagram was inspired by Steve Jobs' quote, "Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition; they somehow already know what you truly want to become". The quote itself was also dispersed in the sonnet, but in such a way that a relevant shape is drawn by its linear progression: |
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Shakespeare's sonnet is anagrammed into a poem about a year-long love affair, which also contains 2 acrostics: The 1st letters of the odd-numbered lines are the 1st letters of each successive month in the year, and the 1st letters of the even-numbered lines spell out a relevant word. |
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
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Our Twelve Months of Devotion
Joined under quilts, we dread
Relentless rain;
Frost's touch that plagued our bed
Extends this pain.
Moods brighten as we spot
Life in a field
And praise a day so hot,
As Winter yields.
Meek oxlips pop up then
To shield nude Earth;
Jays meet and skip again
In timid mirth.
Joy blooms, and we explore
One cool retreat,
And brave, on one lake's shore,
Noon's humid heat.
So potent are the blasts,
So bleak - and yet,
Our mad affair outlasts
Harsh Autumn threat.
New shades shall stun us now
In trees above;
Dawn's cold and pleasant vow
Propels our love.
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