The Book Of Love - Peter Gabriel
Capo /1
G:(32003X) Cadd9:(X3203X) A7sus/F#:(20023X)
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Intro:
(G, Cadd9, A7sus/F#, G) x4
Verse 1:
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
The book of love is long and boring
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
No one can lift the damn______thing
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
It's full of charts and facts and figures
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
and instructions for dan_____cing
Chorus:
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
But I_____________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
I love it when you read____ to me
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And you___________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
You can read me____ a______nything
Verse 2:
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
The book of love has music in it
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
In fact that's where music comes from
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
Some of it is just transcendental
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
Some of it is just real____ly dumb
Chorus:
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
But I_____________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
I love it when you sing____ to me
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And you___________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
You can sing me____ a_____nything
Bridge:
(G, Cadd9, A7sus/F#, G) x4
Verse 3:
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
The book of love is long and boring
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And written ver___y long______ ago
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And things we're all too youn___g to know
Chorus:
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
But I_____________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
I love it when you give me things
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And you___________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
You ought to give me wed___ding rings
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
But I_____________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
I love it when you give me things
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And you___________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
You ought to give me wed___ding rings
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
But I_____________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
I love it when you give me things
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
And you___________________
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G
You ought to give me wed___ding rings
G Cadd9 A7sus/F# G...
You ought to give me wed___ding rings
Tab Discussion, Comments, and Critiques
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Tony Wanna Be |
#1 by Tony Danza at Sep 27, 2007 at 8:23 PM EST |
| Thrice the brindled cat has mewed Thrice and once the hedge pig whined Harpies cry—tis time, tis time Round about the cauldron go In the poison entrails throw Love pinned under coldest stone Breathes a romance of her own Some magic spell has her got So she kicks round—watching the charmed pot Double double Toil and trouble Fire burn and cauldron bubble Belly of a passion snake In the cauldron, boil and bake Eye of newt and toe of frog Wing of bat and tongue of dog Echo’s voice and blind worm’s sting Dancer’s leg and fairy wing For a charm of powerful trouble Like a hell broth—boil and bubble Double, double Toil and trouble Fire burn and cauldron bubble Shakespeare (paraphrased) | |
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wrath Average |
#2 by wrath child at Sep 28, 2007 at 8:07 PM EST |
| I’m monopolizing this song but it’s listed twice—also as just “Book of Love” and well … I am. Humoring angels, fairies and assorted other creatures who felt like writing a book while they cooled their heels, they mentioned poetry—and I said, oh, come on—boring! They laughed and said, you love music and lyrics are poetry set to a tune so let’s do poetry. Going through books and books and books, they focused on many poems—at times going so fast, I couldn’t recall who wrote what and they said this didn’t matter—some authors, constantly chiming in—didn’t care—others did. My house guests paraphrased or altered many lines to tell the stories they wanted to tell in their crazy book of love. | |
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Alex Average |
#3 by Alex P at Sep 29, 2007 at 9:19 PM EST |
| At the heart of the evening There is a choir—that is enchanted Is in its murmur—melodious I listen—alone Eyes shining—her clothes to the wind And here—wild—at day’s end There appeared, the wild shore Down there—next to the endless sea In the violet night In the two worlds I take my pen—I write Blood pulsates from my fingertips I write—love illustrated The folk song of the prostitutes Lunar insensible blaze Full of warbling by corrupted angels With a profile like soft cotton There—where the flaming aurora frees itself Mornings—may your thought sparkle I—nailed to a boulder—shine! [paraphrased poetry] | |
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Master Shaïtan Wanna Be |
#4 by Master Shaïtan at Sep 30, 2007 at 6:10 AM EST |
| For her, it seems, everything was molten Court ladies flow in gentle streams Or gathering lotus Strain sideways from their curving boat A donkey prances Or a kite—dances in the sky—soaring Like sacrificial smoke All is flux Waters fall and leap And bridges leap and fall Even her tortoise undulates And her spring hat Is lively as a school of fish All she ever saw was sea A sea of perspectral splinters Long bright fingers—crawl across her pages Fjords and islands and shatter trees And the laughing hyena Cavalier of balance As volcanic as the rest Elegant—in a flowered gown A face—like a bomb burst Between the raised talons of the right hand Sits an object At rest, like a pale island in a savage sea A child’s heart Immobile, authentic, torn and bloody Terrible enough this demon I find it an honest dishonest visitant Even consoling—after all My sententious phantoms Who grimace from contemporary pages It, at least Knows exactly why it laughs ... D.J. Enright—The Laughing Hyena by Hokusai—paraphrased | |
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Klint Average |
#5 by Klint flowers at Oct 1, 2007 at 10:08 PM EST |
| One of PG's best songs...I think it's very powerful, and I can really relate to it. As for meaning, it's fairly obvious: It's about longing to be wanted, loved, and being alone. | |
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chris Wanna Be |
#6 by chris valverde at Oct 2, 2007 at 1:02 AM EST |
| Why does Peter have to keep writing songs that relate so well to me? | |
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Dan Average |
#7 by Dan Johnson at Oct 2, 2007 at 9:44 AM EST |
| The hour was near The stars were sweat drops The vastest love came spurting forth And in the high night All was light But surface light From that gliding frame—I still dangle I’m its vainest teardrop in the black night She speaks She carries a book She no longer remembers us While in the dark sky, the same star rises And guides us toward day To ears of listening children In hushed surprise Bird—says the song Tiger—says the poem Human—says the silence Hello! Yes, it’s me! It’s time! Listen … Where are you? Who’s speaking? Who’s there? | |
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Cicely aka Icic Badass |
#8 by Cicely aka Icicles and CSkank Shankle (if u stalk me i will shoot you.) at Oct 2, 2007 at 5:23 PM EST |
| De shadders dey are creepin’ Todes the top of de hill Dat sun’s a’slantin’ But night don’t destroy What day done built Dat sun’s a’slantin’ But let de angel or de demon Give dat deal a twirl Dat sun’s a’slantin’ And dat sun starts a slantin’ and a slippin’ at a whirl So we rise up like harpies And give it to them strong Like cows coming home With a ding dang dong Singing like crazies a rather odd little song Hello stranger—relax We won’t stay long Joel Chandler Harris—The Plough Hands Song [paraphrased] | |
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Daron Average |
#9 by Daron Malakian at Oct 4, 2007 at 2:48 AM EST |
| A picture of some snow The lonely one, rattles her crib bars Like a big empty place Wanting sides to it Sides could be someone’s arms Or legs—around her There could still be snow He is particularly aggravated He is non-violet—ultraviolet She is the wow of some silver screen Listerine queen With freckles on her back She’s so fine A pictures of a little gold tomb With an old singing in it A picture of a target Behind which, a well trimmed bull’s-eye Hides the idea of poverty A picture of a power line Rushing forward into the present moment This is not what he had in mind This is not what occurred to him This is a bit further from the book that made a great impression [He said] I’m drawing a blank just tell me a position Kathleen Fraser Forget You Are Making a Film (paraphrased) | |
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dylan Average |
#10 by dylan pesino at Oct 4, 2007 at 6:13 AM EST |
| Minotaur and me Believe me Roy Kiyoota—not here Say this Says that She’s lovely, one says So she is So are you—too He’s lovely All of them Let’s walk down to the beach See the sea Say If you love someone, you wanted him to What’s wanted? All isn’t enough I want to get going Here’s love Sweet love—sweet love The kids come by on bicycles (the little, increasingly large people in the rain …) I want to walk around here Look at the pretty people Look at your houses Stop in your bars Read your mail Bleed in your toilet Get going again … A period of thought here Love dancing After all—it speaks less by saying more So the days went by And the nickname caught on It became a curiosity One is led up to it—like a season A honeycomb of pages—with listings This is tall sleeping A great biography That is also a good autobiography And in looking all around Becomes legible in the interstices Enjoy it while you’re here Again and again and again Minotaur sits on the ground By the sea Sky overhead Standing in front of the fire Love dancing A chatter just back of the ear Bolinas and Me—Robert Creeley and Sleeping in the Corners of Our Lives—John Ashberry (paraphrased) | |
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Rob Average |
#11 by Rob Jones at Oct 4, 2007 at 4:50 PM EST |
| thank you sillybunny. i was just about to say something about this song not being peter gabriel's, but it was actually written and performed by Stephin Merritt. its a wonderful song none the less. | |
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Ryan Sutherland Rhythm Player |
#12 by Ryan Sutherland at Oct 6, 2007 at 1:17 AM EST |
| Half seas over! Stop! She is queasy! A cockroach has dropped in the stew Honestly folks—this stuff is easy! The trouble’s to tell when you’re through Don Marquis [paraphrased] | |
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Lee Professional Badass |
#13 by Lee the bass player, known as blacktooth90™ at Oct 6, 2007 at 11:23 PM EST |
| Movies—in my head Pesky Eskimos-ies Won’t play Loewes Audience fled Two much amphed The Bijou Wants to squeeze you It’s a vestigial age That can cram onstage Jewels and gams Gems Femmes That’s us—up there Moving in wild air Love and pain Singing in my brain The lady we stole away Waking up—makeup on today Kenward Elmslie—Easter for Anne [paraphrased] | |
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Joan Average |
#14 by Joan Rius at Oct 7, 2007 at 3:11 PM EST |
| Did you say we lost our clipper? Did you say our turn is done? No more packets from your princess? No more wild and crazy fun? I’ve got to see tall clippers I’ve got to sing and shout I want to carry on—as if my time was running out I’ve got to roar with laughter—and ponder how you blow While the ice cakes keep a’cracklin’ And it seems you’re lost in snow I want them lights in my daily mail I don’t mind if I do Remember my address? Could you send me one?—maybe two? Red Jacket’s gone? And Dancing Wave? Guiding Star, as well? Then what of Golden Era? Oh my god!—this is hell! Goodbye to Love romancing And her nutty feathered flock Goodbye to all the laughter I really miss that shock Goodbye to daily love letters Could they come back to me? Surely you remember my address So gee—I mean—couldja? Couldja see? Gee. Bill Adams [paraphrased] | |
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Zach Wanna Be |
#15 by Zach Honeycutt at Oct 10, 2007 at 4:15 AM EST |
| Let me be your wise Buck Rogers, baby I forge a rocket lion And with a heart of woozing mathematics and more I soar to passion a planet I storm a career of love for myself The girl I love is like a bliss Splashing fairy dust power It is love But my mission is outrageous! This is love There is something unfair about this This is love Harry was from somewhere else Where he wore tennis shoes And played ping pong Harry knows how to sing Knew his Spanish well And was as wise as he was beautiful Until Lyric dropped in In the empty atmostphere Harry kept cards and letters and tapes He thought of Mistrel—her hands Watched her sit sad in school He wanted to kiss her She was afraid But with a smile And she was always willing to walk you home Greg Corso [paraphrased] | |
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Kevin Average |
#16 by Kevin Fournier at Oct 10, 2007 at 1:09 PM EST |
| Oh yesterday, I think it was While cruising down the street I met with her—hullo, she says Let’s give the girls a treat! And there was many a merry yarn Of many a merry spree Aboard the ship with witches A’sailing on the sea I’m a’weary of them mermaids Says Billy’s ghost to me Them cold and fishy females With hair of slimy weeds of sea We’d a week or so of dipping Round a wind from outer Hell With a fathom or more of broken sea At large in the forward well Then the mate came dancing on the scene And she said—now quit yer chin! Or I’ll smash yer skulls, so help me, Hannah! And let some wisdom in! Ye doddering scum of the slums, she says Are ye drunk or blazin’ drunk? If ye wish to save yer sickly hides Ye’d best git off yer butts! | |
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Fat Man Goz Lead Player |
#17 by Fat Man Goz at Oct 11, 2007 at 6:29 PM EST |
| Mary Ferrari—Northern Lights [paraphrased] The Aurora Borealis shoots across the sky Above the Canadian Rockies at midnight My old camp director rises up And asks me why I became a heart-throb I ask to see my sister And I am allowed to see her bicycle I need a heart cure And a offered a shaved head At three a.m. giant trees Are riding across the sky Going as far as they want The neighbors are wakened And begin to write My sister did not complain | |
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#18 by at Oct 11, 2007 at 10:04 PM EST |
| Hearts the gleam like rare jewels on fire Voices that chant to ancient desire Leaping and gliding—telling a story Weaving in pantomimed figures of glory Bending and crouching in figures of grace Stamping and circling in rhythmical pace To love’s sweet shining and changeable beat A wondrous wind blows at our dancing fairy’s feet Many who walk in city’s bright lights In this dark night Would die of fright Not so—this—our fairy of the west For with courage grand—she is possessed [oh, right …] She—who could write with a scholar’s pen She—who could chat with the worst of men A gutted candle—black in the socket A lover’s face—in a tarnished locket A lean rat—making ready to leap A lady—open eyed—asleep! Sweet Athena—grant her peace She seems to have a pretty long lease Beyond the great divide’s dark line Our mistress of the matchless mine. Robert Carr—The War Dance, John Taylor—Chipeta’s Bride and Clyde Robertson—Mistress of the Matchless Mine | |
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drw Average |
#19 by drw drw at Oct 13, 2007 at 7:34 PM EST |
| Tom Clark—John’s Heart [paraphrased] Who are you? Where did you come from? What are you doing there? American beauty Ted, did you know our words are a book by us? A minotaur, to be exact We have a lot of heart Although as a child We told many lies These were our words Molly was our beauty Here is a portrait of her heart In orange and gold and green Admiringly but with respect I’d like to ask you some questions about love For instance, how do you determine the top? What about the sides? If we were there, we could examine her eyeballs And that way, check out how others approach their art Explosively! Moving explosively toward the heart Hard words, spoken from the heart Fly up into the air Lufthansa’s flight brochure Contains the following Airplanes can only fly by means of curved air Without curved air Nobody can fly Curved air surrounds the world I’d like to fly but these days I’m also satisfied to be here on the ground Playing piano in the dark When the lights come on I have four hands The music we make Resembles the music of the heart Coming back from the john I run into you With a song in my heart—and plenty of politics That song’s a rainbow And inside, it’s others Bubbly songs of aleatory angels I know them by heart And all their angles Who get gold dust on their wings And fairy dust too As they pass on flashcards Through my blue heaven On their way to you Flying—in curved air Heart to heart | |
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cody Average |
#20 by cody jay at Oct 14, 2007 at 11:09 AM EST |
| Tiny orange wing-tipped butterfly Fluttering sunlit From violet blossom to violet blossom Ocean is private You have to visit her to see her Guarded by poison ivy sprigs Sunlight trembling Open—asking why me Oh baby! Welcome! The seal’s head lifted above the wave Eyes watching Sparrow song Whistling above Crawls up your veined blossom wall To petal lip In sunshine clear And dives again—to your tongue Above you, the spider’s left His one-strand shining bridge Ah, fluted morning Lilac sweet—glory bud Opening and tickled to yellow—to light Yellow budded Glory’s tiny tender Bridged with cloud Ginsberg [paraphrased] | |
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Austin Average |
#21 by Austin Schrauben at Oct 14, 2007 at 3:02 PM EST |
| Sometime when you have nothing better to do, go to your local bookstore and browse the self-help section. It may surprise you how many books there on on relationships and sex. When you are finished, go to your local music shop and ask for some good love songs. Notice the baffled look on the clerks face. There's just too many to mention. To wrap up your excursion, check out the local flower or gift shop...especially during Valentines. The book of love IS long and boring, full of words, songs and items that are supposed to show you the way and tell you how it's supposed to be. But ultimately it boils down to two people. Oh sure, they may borrow songs, writings and items from the "Book of Love" and enjoy giving and getting them, but ultimately each story is different. The wedding ring is our culture is ment to be the ultimate symbol of love. While it may look like a thousand other rings out there, it's unique in what it represents to it's wearer that one thing they found with a little help from or perhaps despite of "The Book of Love". | |
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sean Wanna Be |
#22 by sean bradly at Oct 14, 2007 at 8:24 PM EST |
| Alan Watts A certain un-stump-tu-lar loon Fell vastly in love with the moon With shim-u-lar turve And bin-lim-u-lar gurve He car-roozed to the gorble bassoon But owzle the wuncular day The moon was so glim far away And he turned up his face into infinite space Cor-limbed with droogle dismay So vum-u-lar-var were his fears So strom-bu-lous bimble, his tears That try at he might—his gro-ul-u-lous plight Was unstoppable even with beers [And gee, it has been a long time since I've read to others ...] | |
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Ĵǿ Wanna Be |
#23 by Ĵǿħŋ Ĝęřđěŋĭţš at Oct 15, 2007 at 1:48 AM EST |
| With frost in my eyes I heard nobody barking While I talked with the night I have conspired with the tempest Consented to anger Laid open my soul Ink that enchants me Drop after drop Guarding the path of my reason And unreason Like the heart of a typhoon—alive in my mouth Each gust mounted A warrior’s armory A train of caged lions And the tears of the world … But nothing stood firm The breakers undid what they did I said—watching that loveliness The sea’s total disorder We chatted awhile In broad midday In windy explosions That scattered the sun on all sides And struck at the sky I’d like to know for myself What color the leaves of abandonment turn I’m wild to explain my ridiculous secrets Neruda and Waldorf [paraphrased] | |
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Ben Rhythm Player |
#24 by Ben Jammin at Oct 15, 2007 at 4:24 AM EST |
| It’s already begun The box is full of fairies She sits me down beside her Meanwhile—a crashing din swells from below Scene One of Das Rheingold The entire proscenium is covered with a rippling azure scrim The three sopranos dart hither and yon On invisible string Cold lights cling to bare arms Fair tresses—feat and natural Aglitter like pailletes Upon the great green sonorous depths afloat Until with pulsing wealth The house is filled No one believing—everyone thrilled James Merrill—Matinees (paraphrased) | |
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ryan Average |
#25 by ryan oh at Oct 16, 2007 at 6:27 AM EST |
| Wow...I had really hoped someone was going to explain things to me...but if he's saying you ought to give me wedding rings...then that puts the whole song into a new perspective. | |
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Ben Rhythm Player |
#26 by Ben Formica at Oct 16, 2007 at 11:10 AM EST |
| The light let loose in the gardens? We walk upon crystals They play frightening games The Flayed The Filled By Arrows The Crucified The rabbit—carved in the mirror of the moon The Guillotined Penis They ripen the mind We have become enormous Just knowing each other [paraphrased] | |
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jake Professional |
#27 by jake burns at Oct 17, 2007 at 5:18 AM EST |
| The book of love can apparently be quite long and boring—presumably a balance thing—or else love can just be boring. Talk love to many people and they begin yawning. Mention love songs to some musical aficionados and they start harping about songwriters who morphed into weenies when they fell in love. Gabriel could have merely been asked to sing this song for the soundtrack of “Shall We Dance?” but the project could have appealed to him because he recalled—I’m laughing—the bag of bulgur wheat and the silly little picture book of love and maybe even “Liberty?” but maybe not. I’m dreaming, as usual. | |
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Rosa Wanna Be |
#28 by Rosa Beauchamp at Oct 17, 2007 at 9:28 AM EST |
| Your dreams are breathing in the sky Turn and listen in the frosty night to my song To dream and breath The whisper of this slow magnetic dance A little fire? I have seen your palace pulsate With a thousand flames—on a warm evening This delights me—this reassures me And she is here with me Among the spectral statues at sunset An inexhaustible spring of joy and strength Eyes that your angel who sleeps beside you lit Late into the night in endless dreams [paraphrased] | |
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Guitar FrE@k Average |
#29 by Guitar FrE@k Freak at Oct 17, 2007 at 1:55 PM EST |
| Why, she says, do I race madly across the radio dial Almost every time I jump into my car? Listen to the snores of the lover Cows mooing at sunset No wonder I can’t sleep! The lady poet wakes early—haiku on her mind Where’s my typewriter?! Oh. I use my typewriter for poetry He uses his for prose At night we sleep in another ocean He says, you make poems—I’ll read ‘em You make eggs, I’ll eat ‘em She says, he cries when he looks at me Am I that ugly? Cows bellowing all morning Writing poems So inferior Out of the cracks of his elbows And from his armpits—narcissus Bloom early this year I run out into the rain and smell them Two lovers sing with cracked voices This is harmony We’re riding the freight train of enlightenment Sandra Berrigan—One Spring Morning [paraphrased] | |
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Fat Man Goz Lead Player |
#30 by Fat Man Goz at Oct 18, 2007 at 7:22 AM EST |
| In 2004, Gabriel performed a cover version of "The Book of Love," a song by The Magnetic Fields, on the soundtrack to the film “Shall We Dance?.” The Magnetic Fields is a band led by the New York City singer-songwriter Stephin Merritt. Albums released by Merritt under the name "The Magnetic Fields" usually consist of synth-pop music in a 1980s style underlying clever lyrics, often about love, that are sometimes ironic, sometimes bitter and sometimes celebratory. | |
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