Some of the greatest poetry of the last 60 years has been written as song lyrics. From the groundbreaking songs of Bob Dylan in the mid-1960s to songwriters like Joni Mitchell and Jackson Browne to hip hop artists to 21st century pop musicians, all music fans can now point toward popular musicians as the poet laureates of their generation. In this spirit, I am going to start to devote my Tuesday posts to lyrics as a driving force of specific artists and songs.

A deep dive into many of my old posts will show that I personally believe Mountain Goats founder John Darnielle to be the poet laureate of my generation (that is Generation X, more affectionately known as the slacker generation). The songwriting of Darnielle has evolved greatly since his early bedroom recordings of simple acoustic tunes, but throughout all of his work it is the lyrics that have remained the focal point. There are easily a hundred songs I could select to showcase his lyrical vision, and nothing makes that point more clear than the fact that Darnielle has just announced the upcoming publication in December 2025 of his latest book (he is an award winning author as well as a songwriter). This book is titled This Year (the title of one of his most beloved songs) and will feature the lyrics of 365 songs he has written, presented one per day with a variety of recollections and thematic story arcs.

To kick off these new Lyrical Tuesday posts, I have selected the Mountain Goats songs “Going to Georgia” from the 1994 debut album Zopilote Machine, “Jenny” from the 2002 masterpiece All Hail West Texas, “This Year” from my favorite album (The Sunset Tree – 2005), and “The Legend of Chavo Guerrero” from the 2015 album Beat the Champ.

Going to Georgia

The most remarkable thing about coming home to you
Is the feeling of being in motion again
It’s the most extraordinary thing in the world
I have two big hands and a heart pumping blood
And a 1967 colt .45 with a busted safety catch
The world shines as I cross the Macon County line
Going to Georgia

The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway
Is that it’s you and that you’re standing in the doorway
And you smile as you ease the gun from my hand and I’m
Frozen with joy right where I stand
The world throws its light underneath your hair
Forty miles from Atlanta, this is nowhere
Going to Georgia

The world shines as I cross the Macon County line
Going to Georgia

Jenny

You roared into the driveway  
Of our southwestern ranch-style house  
On a new Kawasaki  
All yellow and black  
Fresh out of the showroom  
Our house faced west  
So the big orange sun  
Positioned at your back  
Lit up your magnificent silhouette  
How much better, how much better can my life get?  
900 cubic centimeters of raw, whining power  
No outstanding warrants for my arrest  
Whoa, ho whoa, whoa, whoa  
The pirate’s life for me  
  
I hopped on back of the bike  
Wrapped my arms around you  
I sank my face into your hair  
And then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could  
You were sweet and delicious as the warm desert air  
And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon  
We were the one thing in the galaxy  
God didn’t have his eyes on  
900 cc’s of raw, whining power  
No outstanding warrants for my arrest  
Hi diddle dee dee, goddamn  
The pirate’s life for me

This Year

I broke free on a Saturday morning
I put the pedal to the floor
Headed north on Mills Avenue
And listened to the engine roar

My broken house behind me and good things ahead
A girl named Cathy wants a little of my time
Six cylinders underneath the hood crashing and kicking
Aha! Listen to the engine wine

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me
I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

I played video games in a drunken haze
I was 17 years young
Hurt my knuckles punching the machines
The taste of Scotch rich on my tongue

And then Cathy showed up and we hung out
Trading swigs from a bottle all bitter and clean
Locking eyes, holding hands
Twin high maintenance machines

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me
I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

I drove home in the California dusk
I could feel the alcohol inside of me hum
Pictured the look on my stepfather’s face
Ready for the bad things to come

I downshifted as I pulled into the driveway
The motor screaming out stuck in second gear
The scene ends badly as you might imagine
In a cavalcade of anger and fear
There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me
I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

The Legend of Chavo Guerrero

Born down in El Paso, where the tumbleweeds blow
To the middleweight champ of all of Mexico
Dad fought many bloody battles, and he raised four sons
Chavo was the oldest one

Old man Gory could pop, like a live grenade
Raised his boys in the way of the trade
Hector and Mando, young Eddy G
Chavo meant the most to me

Look high, it’s my last hope
Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope

He came from Texas seeking fortune and fame
Rose pretty quickly to the top of the game
Defender of the downtrodden, king of the hill
Tag team champion with Al Madril

Before a black-and-white TV in the middle of the night
I’m lying on the floor, I’m bathed in blue light
The telecast’s in Spanish, I can understand some
And I need justice in my life, here it comes

Look high, it’s my last hope
Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope

Red Shoes Dugan, holding his arm high all out of breath
I hated all of Chavo’s enemies, I would pray nightly for their deaths
Descending like fire on the people who deserved it most
Almost completely unknown outside of Texas and on the West Coast

He was my hero back when I was a kid
You let me down but Chavo never once did
You called him names to try to get beneath my skin
Now your ashes are scattered on the wind

I heard his son got famous and he went nationwide
Coast to coast, with his dad by his side
I don’t know if that’s true, but I’ve been told
It’s real sweet to grow old

Look high, it’s my last hope
Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope

Whoo!

• Lyrical Tuesday