1. |
||||
|
I’d like to believe in / the words you sa-ay
As though they were enough to / raise the de-ead
You tell me not to worry / we know it’s all a game
The hustle is a hurry / Is the score the same?
I’m banking on a season / for all I know
There’s gonna be nothing / that will grow
Dead leaves in the springtime / All the ends of calls
Just bouncing busy signals / down the empti-est of halls.
|
||||
2. |
Up is Down Sometimes
03:35
|
|||
|
We are so blind to time
to the questions of here and now
we all want life to rhyme
but the sentences break unexpec-
-tedly. Unexpectedly.
And we're free. And we're free.
And we're free. And we're free-ee...
Always moving along
down a narrow charcoal line,
on a Mobius Strip
up is down, down is up sometimes.
We blend like weekends,
we bleed like bookends,
and we fend for our friends
til the end. Til the end.
Do the ghosts of this town
raise a glass to those gathered here?
Would they still gather round?
Can we offer a better year
to them. Have we begun
to make amends
with all we've done?
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
I swear I’m coming home to you; / but like silence to a room,
my departure grants a tune / the loneliest you ever knew.
And like that mist am I: / a boarder for a while.
As strings resolve to chords / I’m not with you any more.
I’m not with you any more.
You can while away the hours / alone and in despair
or sing this as you drift / and in its harbor rest your sails.
Or hum this while I’m gone / be sure I’ll hum along:
a stranger just by miles / I’m with you all the while.
I’m with you all the while.
This mountain that I climb / has you for the other side,
and I’ll tumble down with you / at the fading of our tune.
And when I shall return / this record you should burn,
Release these notes to fly / and rest like birds on wires.
Now when you scan the sky / this overture of hope is there
in the throats of birds: our song / for you whene’re I’m gone…
I pray I’m never gone.
|
||||
Kitty Snowpants Rochester, New York
We're only mouths to feed, with hearts like tin canteens, in the end it's our disease that keeps us true.
But Adam and his
girl and the beech tree by the school yard bend, the race to win; will you begin?
Tantamount to sin are the pleasures of the skin
and death-defying lines all seem to blend
into the magic words you swear you've never heard
from the lady in the garden with a grin.
et cetera...
... more
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