The Literary Review: Luke Bryan

The Literary Review: Luke Bryan

The Literary Review is dedicated to exposing the worst things about combinations of words. I don’t know the percentage of people in the world that can read and write, but I do know that 98% of those people are verifiably stupid and that 99% of those verified absolutely have to bring their stupidity to the public light. Having said that, I don’t mean to insult the writer, but the words they have written. So, if you’re a writer and you see this and think, “Hey, that’s not fair,” don’t blame me. It was you who wrote the dumb shit in the first place.

Luke Bryan

I don’t hate country music.

However, I do hate music about the country.

Luke Bryan’s songs are so about the country, that if you play one in a parking lot, two pick-up trucks will gain sentience and start fucking each other. His songs glorify the “redneck” lifestyle so much that they can only be appreciated if you’re covered in mud and dating your high school sweetheart.

He sees inside your soul, in the way those city boys can’t.

It’s not that I don’t understand the country. My home town is so small that I have to give it directions to find its way around me. I spent a good half of my formative years looking at trees and wondering what it was like to have people to talk to. Sure, my home town was nice, in a very “making my voice echo is much more fun if I don’t have pants on” kind of way, but glorifying it with song after song? I didn’t feel the need to do that.  It didn’t hit me like it obviously hit the guy who writes Luke’s lyrics, and it hit that guy like a burning plane into an Oil and Heating Insulation Convention.

The biggest problems with his lyrics, is that, and call me biased, but he doesn’t exactly sell me on the life Luke is singing about. This would probably help if he spent more time writing better lyrics, but he doesn’t have a lot of time to do that with all the coloring books he has to finish.

Below are examples of the lyrics of Luke Bryan’s songs, and what I know to be wrong with them. I speak absolutely, because if you don’t read these words and think “I thought head trauma patients couldn’t use electronics so soon after surgery,” then you’re the one who should be writing these jokes. It would be way funnier, as I’m assuming you can’t spell.

Drinkin’ Beer And Wastin’ Bullets

From the album “Doin’ My Thing”

Sittin’ here waitin’ on a deer, drinkin’ beer and wastin’ bullets
Aimin’ at the empties, missin’ hittin’ pine trees
It ain’t my fault them cans keep movin’
My baby’s on the phone sayin’ baby come home
Where you been and
What you’ve been doin’
We’ll I’ve been, sittin’ here, waitin’ on a deer
Drinkin’ beer and wastin’ bullets

          Hunting is usually done to relax; I know that and I see no problems with it. When I need to relax, I create hypothetical situations in my head where I’m forced to kill cyborg versions of Aquaman, Apache Chief and Gorilla Grodd, so shooting animals walking by doesn’t seem that far off. However, the biggest problem here is Luke Bryan’s seeming indifference toward the collapse of his life.

There are obviously no deer around, so Luke sits, drinking constantly, shooting at cans, missing and hitting trees. He then blames the cans for moving, which is funny, if funny to you is someone throwing up on your couch when they meant to throw up on your chair.

His marriage is failing, as his wife is asking him what he’s been doing all day, when he should be home showing some kind of support. Instead of doing the logical thing and saying that traffic has been bad, he tells her point blank. That kind of negligence to someone’s emotions is almost unforgivable and completely irrational. I wouldn’t be surprised if Luke returned home to find his belongings in the yard with a note attached saying “You’d be surprised to find out that the neighbor is still a good lay after 4 months of it.”

I Don’t Want This Night To End

From the album “Tailgates and Tanlines”

Girl, I know I don’t know you
But your pretty little eyes so blue,
are pulling me in like the moon on your skin.
I’m so glad you trusted me, to slide up on this dusty seat
And let your hair down, and get outta town.

Got the stars comin’ out,
Over my hood.
And all I know now.
Is it’s going good.

You got your hands up,
You’re rocking in my truck.
You got the radio on,
You’re singing every song.
I’m set on cruise control.
I’m slowing loosing hold of everything I got.
You’re looking so damn hot.
And I don’t know what road we’re on,
Or where we’ve been from starin’ at you.
Girl, all I know is I don’t want this night to end.

I’m not quite sure if the lyricist learned the art of writing a love song through reading lawsuits against women’s self defense classes or through his own borderline murderous experiences. On one hand, I’m glad that the writer has found a woman that he likes that evening. On the other hand, I’m legitimately scared for the girl, as lines like “I’m so glad you trusted me, to slide up on this dusty seat” and “I’m slowly loosing hold of everything I got” read less like spontaneous romance and more like “You don’t want to see what he did to the girl’s skull, Chief.”

Country Man

From the album “I’ll Stay Me.”

You need hands, rough not soft
To come and warm you up up in that cold hayloft
Let me hold you little darling in my big strong arms
Can’t get these kind of muscles anywhere but a farm

Hey I’m a country man, a city boy can’t do the things I can
I can grow my own groceries and salt cure a ham
Hey baby I’m a country man

I’ve got a jeep with camouflage seats
That way nobody sees us parked back up in these trees
Your little iPod’s loaded down with Hoobastank
Don’t be a tape player hater girl, we’re groovin’ to Hank

Hey I’m a country man, a city boy can’t do the things I can
I can hotwire your tractor and plow up your land
Hey baby I’m a country man

You like the Ivy League Humvee Tennis-sweater type
But girl I’m here to tell you, don’t believe the hype

Hey I’m a country man, I can wrestle hogs and ‘gators with my two bare hands
Girl you better move quick I’m in high demand
Hey baby I’m a country man

Hey I’m a country man, huntin’ me a good ole’ country girlfriend
Why don’t you come and join me in my new deer stand
Hey baby I’m a country man

Hey baby I’m a country man

I had to post all the lyrics to the song, because if Luke Bryan doesn’t fart without the Dukes Of Hazard theme playing, I don’t believe in human kindness. This was obviously written before the previous song, as the lyricist here has devoted his time to telling a girl how great he is, before she rejected him and he gave in to his homicidal impulses.

This song reads like a pathetic OkCupid profile, where he grasps at those fine country, mc’country straws in order to beat out every other lonely gentleman. Salt cure a ham? I’ve never been on a first date with someone who asked me “How do you prepare meat that you don’t plan to eat for a while?”, but then again I’m not Luke Bryan. He then goes on to show off more of his internal, woman-hating rage, as he explains driving off to where no one can see them and then invents the term “Tape player hater.” Don’t ask him what part of his brain concocted that, because if he told you, he’d have to kill you.

I don’t know where the author got the idea that there was some positive hype around “Ivy League Humvee Tennis Sweater Types,” but, considering that he has two albums entitled “I’ll Stay Me” and “Doin’ My Thing,” I’d imagine that he’s paranoid of anything that doesn’t have guns, trucks or “country” in it. Those Ivy League Humvee Sweater Types probably don’t know how to salt cure a ham or drink in futility all day, and thus, we’ve found the enemy and they are among us.

“I can wrestle hogs and ‘gators with my two bare hands.” Bullshit, Luke’s Writer. I’m not doubting that all the woman strangling and hay lifting that you’ve done hasn’t made you strong, but the fact that you claim to be able to beat a giant, scaled swamp reptile with no weapons is ludicrous. When I was in 4th grade, I told a girl that I could bring dinosaurs back to life, and she didn’t believe a damn word of it. 4th graders are lucky if they’re not being hit by cars repeatedly, so good luck with your women.

If they ever find out where she’s buried, the dream will be over.

If you want to read other examples of Luke Bryan lyrics, see below. (They’ve been re-titled, as to provide more accuracy.)

Songs For Trucks To Sex To

Kids Are Dumb And Do Dumb Things

Illogical Ways To Solve Problems

The Scar From Your Blade Still Haunts My Face


Daniel is funny is expanding! Read more about it here!

For the second round in this ageless war, see here. 

And for the final (?) battle, go here. 

13 responses to “The Literary Review: Luke Bryan

    • In between sessions of listening to “Country Man” and secretly hating her father, Ann loves to use outdated insults on internet comedy sites. I don’t hate her for her hobbies, in the same way that I don’t hate an animal when it eats it’s own excretion.

  1. Aw shit…..i used to work at a Texas style steak house where they made us line dance. For the enjoyment of people eating their goddamn.22oz.porterhouse.
    Worst shit I’ve ever (willingly) subjected myself to. This is relevant because it proves I have the background to say what im going to say next.

    Country boys like peanuts, ketchup on a well done steak and a little something called honkey tonk. Don’t ask about that last one. Just know it involves natty ice and really relating to the lyrics of songs like these.

    So, in closing, Daniel wins.

    • Natty ice tastes like piss that’s been pissed out twice and the term “honky tonk” was invented by someone who can’t spell “tonk.” Thank you for my winning.

      • You’re welcome. Maybe you can help me,since you seem to be an expert on things like Texas. (Which I totes respect, btw). I am wondering if you know anything about the application/interview process for the job ‘judge’. It seems as though Texas may have an opening soon and I am trying to get a leg up on the competition. I’m sure you understand. Also, do you know if they conduct background checks? If so, what do you think would be considered Negative?’ thanks in advance 😉

      • I have no idea what it takes to be a “judge,” outside of Judge Mathis, whose requirements seem to have been “be able to talk down to minorities and explain why the obvious is so obvious.” They probably conduct background checks, and a negative on a background check probably constitutes anything above a beatdown/touching. No problem.

  2. Wow, you’re kinda a dick. What makes someone just want to shit talk a great musician. And the things you say aren’t surprises, we’ve all thought it, but we love him regardless. Id love to see you because I’m thinking you are just jealous of Luke. And i dont blame you, so it’s ok 🙂 he is a fine man- great ass and perfect smile, but im sure someone someday will love you for your greasy over grown hair and punk ass clothes your mom probably still washes 🙂 and for anyone wondering i found this piece of shit artice by Googling who writes Luke’s songs.

    • Luke writes most of his own songs. Dallas Davidson writes with him. And Danielsfunny is a douche bag…probably some loser that lives in his mom’s basement and sits on the internet all day while picking his acne and masturbating. Luke Bryan is the man!

    • Luke writes most of his own songs with a few exception (i.e. Drunk On You) and Dallas Davidson writes with him. Danielsfunny is a complete douche bag who probably lives in his mom’s basement and sits on the internet all day living vicariously through the rest of the world while he picks his acne, stuffs his fat face, and masturbates. Luke is the man!

  3. I am so happy to find this thread i hate country musicand have argued with my wife for three days that his song about not wanting the nite ti end was about a kidknapping and murder of a stranger by a serial killer. it reads like a person having a mental break and is in remourse for having to kill her. by the way my wife thinks we are both crazy

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