I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her own
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain, she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
On the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
Gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
And maybe she'd take me to France
And maybe to Spain, she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her own
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain, she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
On the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
Gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
And maybe she'd take me to France
And maybe to Spain, she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
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telling me it would all be okay, out on the horizon and fading away" as a ridiculously romanticized version of drowning. In both instances, the "death" occurs in a sort of gentle, comforting manner. It seems kind of like a giant suicidal ideation, and Sylvia represents a dreamy end.
I think Ryan was describing a daydream that he indulges in when reading her work. When I am reading a Kerouac book, I spend half of my time reading, and half of my time in pointless daydreams of me just walking through battered streets with him drunk and wasted and careless and in love with feeling alive (yet so close to dead)... What it would have been like....sigh.... it is a weird feeling that you get from these daydreams... you would give almost anything to actually experience them... though in most cases it leaves you empty and frustrated and sad because you can't. With Sylvia, I think many avid readers want to ease her pain, or feel it with her.... what I wouldn't give to just sit with her on an afternoon in such bleakness... Sometimes the best way to know we are alive is to feel pain.
And so..... I think the meaning of this song is foreign to most people, but as your thinking develops, and you read a book or a thousand, and you realize that all of life is tragic, then you will begin to understand this. There is something beautiful in a person who is sad or who has realized the sadness in life... and so maybe this song is about him wanting a sylvia plath, a rock-bottom feeler of life in its true form... and maybe because those people are untouchable.... you can never truly ease the pain in that person, and you can never feel exactly what they are feeling.... but life would be so damned and horrible......and beautiful.
I think as a writer or songwriter the meaning that other people get from your words is more important than what it meant to you. This site is great for this reason.... I think what the song means to you is just as important as what it meant to the artist originally. Songs are a great way to resurrect different feelings from different times in your life.
Some of you may realize that when you really start thinking, you will become an outsider.... and very alone at times.
Hope you all find the tragedy in life, though it may be a better life to live completely oblivious to this.
You're wrapped up in her life, and thoughts, and actions - but everything she does is foreign. She's uncouth - ashes on the carpet, abuses pills and alcohol, sleeps for a week, exotic to the point of being extreme - but you want nothing more than to be near her.
At the same time, she fills needs in you no one else has - gives you a bath, sleeping on boats, naked swimming, dancing in mansions - all while being just out of reach.
I wish I sometimes had a Sylvia Plath.