The 10 Least Romantic Love Song Lyrics

Since before Shakespeare asked if he should "compare thee to a summers day," songsmiths have endeavored to paint that perfect picture of their lovers, to capture the joys and agonies of courtship, all with the ultimate goal of convincing women to do acrobatic things to their nether regions.

But with the advent of the modern day rock groupie, whose job description it is to do acrobatic things to the nether regions of anyone capable of growing their hair to shoulder-length, it's apparently become too damn easy for musicians to get laid. Just look at the following list of ten love song lyrics that are sure to get you slapped this Valentine's Day.

"Won't need too much pursuadin',
I don't mean to sound degradin',
But with a face like that you got nothin' to laugh about."

Rod Stewart making comments on someone else's looks? That's pretty rich, Roderick.
It's a good rule of thumb that anything you could possibly say to a women following the phrase, "I don't mean to sound degradin', but..." is good for a trip directly to dry-penis-ville.

"Grab you by your coat tail take you to the motel, hoe sale,
don't tell, won't tell...
if you pick me then ima pick on you,
d-o-double g and I'm here to put this dick on you."

Snoop sure knows how to make a lady feel special. He starts off by describing how he's going to kidnap his love interest and take her to a ho sale, which sounds more like some sort of forced slave auction than anything very romantic. From there he immediately tells the girl not to tell on him, which has an incredibly creepy, Kevin Bacon in Sleepers vibe to it. Just an all around poor performance from one of hip-hop's favorite misogynists. And also, Snoop, we're pretty sure it's "in" and not "on," unless we've been doing things wrong all these years.

"When you're buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes
Though your flesh has crystallized;
Still...you turn me on.
Every day a little sadder,
A little madder,
Someone get me a ladder."

Wow this is creepy. Is the ladder for the girl you keep in the hole in your basement?

"As we followed in the dance,
Between the parted pages and were pressed,
In love's hot, fevered iron,
Like a striped pair of pants."

There's not much we can say here. Just read it over a couple of times. Yes, this song is the ACME of bad lyrics, but this particular passage is breathtaking. 'Yes babe, you remind me of my wrinkly pants.'

"Remind me of something James used to say,
'I like 'em fat,
I like 'em proud,
Ya gotta have a mother for me,'
Now move your big ass 'round this way so I can work on that zipper, baby
Cus, tonight you're a star -- and I'm the big dipper"

It's remarkable that a skinny five foot two inch guy with a pencil mustache and tight sequined pants could get laid as much as Prince does. Maybe it's his subtly seductive way with words. This lyric violates one of the oldest laws of seduction: never comment on a girl's weight. Oh, and never refer to oneself as the big dipper.

"Baby, I think tonight
We can take what was wrong and make it right
Baby, it's all I know
That you're half of the flesh and blood makes me whole"

Nothing gets a girl's heart racing quicker than being compared to blood. Mr. Mister were indicative of everything that was wrong with music in the eighties — overproduced, anodyne dross. Still you could always look to the committee-written-lyrics for the most embarrassing aspect of their music.

"You should've known by the tone of my voice, maybe
But you didn't listen
You played dead, but you never bled,
Instead you lay still in the grass, all coiled up and hissing"

In other words, "If screaming doesn't get my point across. I guess I'm going to have to use my hands. Now are you happy? Oh, don't act like you're hurt! You're not even bleeding! God, you're such a snake." Nothing says romance like lyrics that sound like they were written by one of those rage-a-holic husbands on the Lifetime channel.

"Havin' my baby
What a lovely way of sayin'
What you're thinkin' of me"

But enough of me talking about me. What do you think about me? Paul Anka wrote "My Way" and his "Rock Swings" album is great, but this shit bomb deserves a prize from women everywhere.

"One mile to every inch of
Your skin like porcelain
One pair of candy lips and
Your bubblegum tongue."

Oh Jesus Christ John! You almost had it, too. The clichés sort of worked for a little while but then you dropped it at the end. Why a bubblegum tongue? Is there an Alex Rodriquez rookie card under it?

"Your looks intoxicate me,
Even though your folks hate me,
There's no one like you Elenore really,
Elenore gee I think you're swell,
And you really do me well,
You're my pride and joy etcetera."

Etcetera? Etcetera is probably the least romantic word in the English language, as well as the least poetic. We're pretty sure Elenore wants a divorce, etc.