When the lovers finally are still,
The moon sent aloft over the hill,
The mighty angel army encamped
In shadow behind the table lamp;
As the stars spread then fold over
The gray quiet hills and the clover,
A hush comes on the sleeping world,
Like the deadly calm after a tragic war.
There’s the martyr in his cold stone cell,
Who thinks his window’s a wishing well.
He entreats the night with words that drone-
That get covered up by winds that moan.
And the night’s a lady in satin,
Moving with slow indifferent action.
Her skirt sweeps slyly past the window,
As the martyr bends, broken and low.
She sweeps down the moon with her palm,
To hide herself from claws of dawn.
Those fingers rip streams of brightest red,
And the sun puts light into her head.
As the lady turns suddenly old,
She just fades into the morning gold.
The lovers rise up rejoicing,
As the martyr seeks reinforcing.
And the angels breaking up camp;
Back to the turmoil and the war.
Straight into the atmosphere they tramp.
The human heart turns into a scar.
With your heart
You wake up early
To sip the silver of the morning
With your heart
With your heart
And the moonbeams linger
Like the laughter of an angel
They’re a dart
In your heart
As the day breaks you’re counting the final score
And you don’t believe there are angels anymore
And the sun of the day rolls heavily on
And you wonder what it will be like once you are gone
You grieve your daughter
And yet dismiss the deep sorrow
In her heart
In her heart
These are scars that will linger
Like the lancet of the devil
To her heart
To her heart
And you take one last look at the face in the mirror
Staring blankly at the deadness blanking horror
And the sun of the day seems heavily stoned
You wonder what it will be like once the news it is known
But its better not linger
As you work a task with your fingers
Isn’t suicide easy in the night
Tie the knot tight
- written with Phil Ochs in mind
These are your scars
Wear them with pride
Like the night with its stars
Scars you can’t hide
Scars tinted with love
Scars tainted with hate
Scars soakin’ in blood
Scars touting your fate
Ugly to view
You know it’s true
And yet someone loves you
And yes someone loves you
For love is blind
Love clouds the mind
Makes one caring and kind
Love lets you find
Scars tinted with love
Scars tainted with hate
Scars soakin’ in blood
Scars touting your fate
Ugly to view
You know it’s true
And yet someone loves you
And yes someone loves you
It’s sometimes a hard road, ain’t it son?
And a long old way until the race is won
Sometimes you’re tired
‘N’ sometimes you’re wired
‘N’ I hope you sometimes have some fun
Remember it’s not just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
If at first he falls
The bird recalls
The thrill he felt as he’s soaring through the sky
And sometimes when it seems you’re all alone
Turn around I’m cheering from my paternal zone
Though words might fail
May love prevail
If not this brass ring then another one
Remember it’s not just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
If in flight he stalls
The bird recalls
The thrill and soon he’s soaring through the sky
I’m not the parent you might have had
In every family’s some good and then some bad
Be your own man
And not your old man
Set your own terms and make both of us glad
After all it’s not just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
He soars over walls
However tall
The thrill and the knowing as he’s soaring through the sky
Each year, I write something for Christmas. Sometimes I like the result, sometimes not. The big problem for me is, all the cliches and nice phrases are overworked by thousands of writers and would be writers. It's hard to get beyond that and still sound "Christmasy." The following may or may not be subject to revision, pending further review. It is perhaps three years old.
"My Gift For You Will Be"
written with Tony Bennet's voice in my ear
My gift to you will be
More than a prize
Underneath a Christmas tree
Wise and wonderful bride
A star will take us
On a magical ride
Soon you will see
The world below us will be
A jewel in the mist
O’er it we pause
Shocking Mister Claus
With a long lover’s kiss
My love for you will be
More than a prize
More than a prize
Changed some of the words to this
Reflection Song
It’s sometimes a hard road, ain’t it son?
And a long old way until the race is won
Sometimes you’re tired
‘N’ sometimes you’re wired
‘N’ I hope you sometimes have some fun
It ain’t just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
Sometimes he stalls
‘N’ maybe he falls
‘N’ yet flits back into the sky
And sometimes it seems you’re all alone
You’ll find me cheering from my paternal zone
Though words might fail
May love prevail
If not this brass ring then another one
It ain’t just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
Sometimes he stalls
‘N’ maybe he falls
‘N’ yet flits back into the sky
I’m not the parent you might have had
In every family’s some good and then some bad
Be your own man
And not your old man
Set your own terms and make both of us glad
After all
It ain’t just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
He soars over walls
However tall
The thrill the knowing soaring through the sky
Where Freedom Is (it really ain't)
for Greg Caton
Well he became an outlaw
Like Jesse James
And Pretty Boy Floyd
All because he told the truth
In a land where freedom is
It really ain’t
If you don’t walk the line
You get martyred like a saint
He prepared his healing herbs
Like merchants of old
Sold them on the web
To grateful ones like me
FDA took him to jail
Like a petty thief
To serve thirty three months
And then a long parole
In a land where freedom is
It really ain’t
If you don’t walk the line
You get martyred like a saint
Rogue agent worked treachery
To make further grief
Greg went to Gauyaquille
To work and to be safe
Agent kidnapped him away
For jumping parole
He’s rotting in the jail
It’s up to you and me
To make certain freedom is
Where it just ain’t
Where you don’t walk the line
And get martyred like a saint
Make them let Greg go now
Get back to his work
And make the FDA
Answer to the law
For in this land where freedom is
It really ain’t
If you don’t walk the line
You get martyred like a saint
Little Songs
When the world runs out of wrongs
I’ll be writing no more songs
But for now
I say wow
Business is very good
I’ll keep writing little songs
‘Til there’s peace in battle zones
‘Til congress notes
The change with votes
Until then I must conclude
When a child’s peaceful at night
When love’s a symbol not might
No hunger
No danger
Until then I’ll just be rude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Loud enough to rattle bones
To spit it out
In one big shout
Until then I must conclude
When folks die of poverty
The wrong ideology
Jealousy
Notoriety
Until then I’ll just be crude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Its my way to battle wrongs
To spit it out
In one big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
Flowers For Jesus
In the soft winds they wave
I spotted them near his grave
At some hole round Mexico
Thought about his widow’s face
Thought about the way she cries
The subtle lashes of her eyes
Through cracked lips she gently sighs
Bout the cold and lonely nights
Jesus was her man
With his help people ran
Way from home in Mexico
For them Jesus took his stand
I said some words for him
Wrote them on the prairie wind
Wondered who laid him low
I suppose we never shall know
Thought about the way she cries
The subtle lashes of her eyes
Through cracked lips she gently sighs
Bout the cold and lonely nights
Taking her home again
V-8 Ford through pouring rain
To raise her child unborn
We should arrive by early morn
Thoughts about the way she cries
The subtle lashes of her eyes
Through cracked lips she gently sighs
Bout the cold and lonely nights
There’s a tunnel at my window
I can see you’re peeking through
Do you really want to know
What it is that I like to do
Do do do do do do do do
Do you really want to know
What it is that I like to do
There’s a door knob on my front door
I won’t unlock it for you
But you can peek in some more
If that is what you’d like to do
Do do do do do do do do
Do you really want to see
What’s been happening with me
There’s a door knob on my door
There’s a tunnel at my window
There’s a door knob on my door
There’s a tunnel at my window
There’s a door knob on my door
There’s a tunnel at my window
There’s a door knob on my door
There’s a tunnel at my window
There’s a face in my mirror glass
Want me to show it to you?
The depth within is so vast
What do you expect me to do
Do do do do do do do do
Do you really want inside
Don’t want your suicide
@edgarblythe,
edgarblythe wrote:
Little Songs
When the world runs out of wrongs
I’ll be writing no more songs
But for now
I say wow
Business is very good
I’ll keep writing little songs
‘Til there’s peace in battle zones
‘Til congress notes
The change with votes
Until then I must conclude
When a child’s peaceful at night
When love’s a symbol not might
No hunger
No danger
Until then I’ll just be rude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Loud enough to rattle bones
To spit it out
In one big shout
Until then I must conclude
When folks die of poverty
The wrong ideology
Jealousy
Notoriety
Until then I’ll just be crude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Its my way to battle wrongs
To spit it out
In one big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
Hey edgar - i like this very much - it's got good rhythm
(the little songs are often the best)
I've been trying to write more stuff for the guitar but i don't find it very easy.
Hope life is treating you well, edgar. Hope we get to talk more
all the best
endy
Morning, endy. I imagined Bobby Darin writing such a song. He was an anti war advocate in his last years.
All across this wicked land
Shadows crawling from the sun
No drop of water for our tongues
Half crazy steers a bawling
Cattle drive stumbling through the draw
Buzzards circling way down low
"If you're going to die just let us know
We'll catch you as you're falling"
And a band of reckless riders
Shouting as they top the rim
Hands filled with iron and faces grim
"We'll have that herd you cowboys"
Curley reaches for his iron
A round of bullets drops him down
Herd gets spooked by the thunderous sound
"It's the Jamboree, you cowboys"
All across this wicked land
Nothing like a cow stampede
You can follow You can't lead
We turn our hearts to Texas
All across this wicked land
As the rustlers chase the herd
We chase the mockingbird
All the way home to Texas
So ride the wind back to Texas, boys
On the scent of gun smoke & blood.
Ride the wind back to Texas,
Through the lead rain & the mud.
Ride it hard back to Texas
Last five lines were written by my son. - edgarblythe
@Endymion,
Endymion wrote:
edgarblythe wrote:
Little Songs
When the world runs out of wrongs
I’ll be writing no more songs
But for now
I say wow
Business is very good
I’ll keep writing little songs
‘Til there’s peace in battle zones
‘Til congress notes
The change with votes
Until then I must conclude
When a child’s peaceful at night
When love’s a symbol not might
No hunger
No danger
Until then I’ll just be rude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Loud enough to rattle bones
To spit it out
In one big shout
Until then I must conclude
When folks die of poverty
The wrong ideology
Jealousy
Notoriety
Until then I’ll just be crude
I’ll keep writing little songs
Its my way to battle wrongs
To spit it out
In one big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
One big shout
Spit it out
Hey edgar - i like this very much - it's got good rhythm
(the little songs are often the best)
I've been trying to write more stuff for the guitar but i don't find it very easy.
Hope life is treating you well, edgar. Hope we get to talk more
all the best
endy
Line 9 has been changed to 'And responds with votes'
@edgarblythe,
Hi my name is hope and i was wondering if you could write me a song about commin out of the ghetto and makeing somethign of my life, hateing my life. nights i stayed awake and make it realy good i have tryed but i have failed please and thank you sincerly hope <3
@Hopeplatty123,
Hi. Please see your inbox for a reply.
My Dream
I went to sleep last night
had a dream like a falling kite
I dreamed that you had died
I felt that weariness inside
The only way I found that I could keep you
Darlin' was I knew that I would eat you
Dragged your body to the kitchen eagerly
Worked into the night so busily
A roast, a little meat pie
A burger and a ribeye
Hey, I roll it in the dough
Even make menudo
I wanna taste you
I wanna baste you
I wanna sizzle and fry
Soup and salad I cry
Gravy and I'll sop you up
Save the drippings in a cup
Cracklin for a Sunday treat
Love you darlin time to eat
Happily I awakened dear
To find that you still were here
You're better than a sandwich to me
So we gonna live together happily
@edgarblythe,
Are the lyrics Written by yourself?
thats azmaing
