When your body is torn by those unborn
G D
And you feel like life's afterbirth
C Am7 Em
With your hometown sod and your atheist God
G D
You've got a piece of heaven and earth.
C Am7 Em
With your Irish wake solemn mirth
C Am7 Em
Take apathy for all it's worth
C Am G
When you've got a piece of heaven and earth.
D C Em
And no one seems to mind if evil is defined
As whatever we're sworn to fight.
But what can you do, man, when the gods become human
Over there in the dark of the night?
There where they're safe out of sight
There where our fears stand and fight
Over there in the dark of the night.
So I turned to the man with the tourist tan
Asked "How can you do so little?"
"I'm driftwood," he cried, "so please stand aside
And let the noon sun whittle.
Let Nero laugh and fiddle
As it all grows dark and brittle
Just let that noon sun whittle."
And life here, it seems, lies between our dreams
Slow down. Enjoy the ride.
Because time is just motion, it's flowing like the ocean
Our fate drifts with the tide.
Love's a victim of our pride
And all the things we kept inside
While its fate drifted with the tide.
As history is told (brave battles against bold)
The seeds of war are sown.
At the end of our tether we've come a long way together
To find ourselves alone.
Like abstract voices on the phone
You'll know respect from fear by its tone
When you find yourself alone.
Abraham at Nuremburg, he can't believe what he just heard
"Which orders should we heed?"
How do you cope, knowing that hope
Is the nicest form of greed?
Yes, and you know what I need
For you to hold me as I bleed
From the nicest form of greed...
...the politest form of greed...
Epilogue:
The end comes not with a bang
C Am7 Em
Although that's how it might seem
C Am7 Em
And the end comes not with a whimper
C Am7 Em
But with the sunset of a dream...
C Am7 Em
Some do as they choose
D C G
The rest do as we must
D C Em
Shake our heads at gruesome news
D C G
And boast of our disgust.
D Am Em
Chorus
The seeds on the breeze
D A
That float to the grass
G D
They know most destinies
A
Will not come to pass.
G D
The priest says we are children
The judge says we're adults.
Who knows which one flatters us
And which of them insults?
I don't know I'm in a booth
'Till the doors are tightly closed.
Still, it's nice to see a naked truth
In this world so fully clothed.
Guard us all from the criminal
And from the wild uncouth.
But none of us is more dangerous
Than the one who speaks the truth.
Additional Choruses at End:
The waves on the seas
Won't reach tidal mass
Knowing most fantasies
Will not come to pass.
And our histories
Belong in the past.
Like our memories
They're not meant to last.
It's the sky and not the sea that's blue
Am G
As surface light reflects
F E7
Morning Glories sprout anew
Am G
And turn towards the west
F E7
Yes, Nature makes me think of you
Am G
As Nature at its best
F E7
Yes, I loved all I knew about you
Am G
And trusted for the rest
F Em
Chorus:
This was the season
Dm C
Of blood-cold passion
Dm C
Divorced from reason
Dm C
Remarried to fashion.
G G7 Am
You fly with other angels now
I feel you all around
And morning brings me Java dreams
As memories abound
Yes, coffee makes me think of you
The sight, the scent, the sound
You're the one who carried me
And brought me back to ground.
A gambler sees his next card as his last source of mercy
G Em7 Am7 D7
He calls a St. Bernard every time that he gets thirsty
G Em7 Am7 D7
He knows he's in the game; he knows the deck is stacked
G Em7 Am7 D7
As he reaches for a bag that he knows is always packed.
G Em7 Am7 D7
Chorus:
And I just don't know
C G Bm7
If it's a struggle or a show.
C G D
Debutante sees her dance card as her next source of pleasure
She steals a glance, she takes a chance, but knows she cannot measure
The world that lies behind those eyes, looking back in terror
Is this a test? A joke? A jest? Or just another error?
The fighter sees his next card as his last hope of glory
They say it's like a dance, just a little bit more gory
He leaves the fans all cheering. He leaves a man there kneeling
But it's cost him all his senses. It's cost him all his feeling.
So many habits
Am C
That none can feed 'em
Dm
Caught in these vices
F
A prisoner of freedom.
G Am
Ironies haunt
These vendors of greed
You get all you want
You lose all you need.
Now I realize
Loneliness is when
We don't recognize
Who will be our friend.
Enemies who dare
Are in the hallway kissing
Fools can see what's there
But can you see what's missing?
Lemmings will ignore
Any course correction
Miles to go before
We face the right direction.
Bluebloods and hoodlums
Continue to coast.
But angels are born
When they're needed most.
Epilogue:
Freedom...freedom...freedom
It is only
The nicest word
For lonely.
Billy Spence was an acquaintance of mine. In his
youth on the God's Lake Narrows reservation, Billy's interests
extended well beyond himself. These interests narrowed after a
few years in the "big city". I once asked him why he drank so
much.
"When I'm drunk, people look at me and say `Another
drunken Indian!'..."
I didn't understand his point until he added: "...when
I'm sober they don't look at me at all..."
I never heard Billy use the word "good-bye". Instead, he
would say "Till the next time!" until, inevitably, there would be
no more "next times".
His friends understand the old Spanish requiem:
"Richer
to have known him. Poorer to have lost him."
I went down to Denny's with my relations
E A
They said black and white must pay their dues
E A
Said you gotta be red to sing the blues
E A
Have you made our reservations?
D G A
Chorus:
And we'll go out on a bender
C F
Till windmills tilt and they surrender
C F
We'll run about willy-nilly
C F
Till the next time, Billy.
G E
Where it ends is still a mystery
Bureaucrats and lawyers can be silly and right
They see the switch but not the light
Are they slaves of their own mastery?
I saw the men matriciding nature
Like snow they're cold and cruel and white
They cover the land and everything in sight
With their chemical nomenclature.
Drink to Manitou and let's not be too clever
The snow knows how we fear its ends
And if not for our spirits friends
We'd cower cold forever.
"The Writer" was Colin's entry in a songwriting contest sponsored by
the Authors Association. It had the unique distinction of being
the only
entry to garner no
votes from the 32 judges! :)
|
Dreams may be to heaven
Guitar Chords: C Dm
What thoughts are to the word
G Am
Ignorance is deafened
C Dm
By sounds that can't be heard
G C
I will work in stages
Guitar Chords: F Am
Neither cruel nor kind
F Am
I will call on pages
F Am
To infiltrate your mind
Em C
...to leave affronts behind
Em C
...and make the tense unwind
Em G Am
Don't forgive my innocence
Of conscience be bereft
I cast aside my arrogance
And write with what is left
As I type the story
That tragedies amuse
I won't hype the glory
Of black and white print blues
...of aging with the news
...and musing with a Muse.
| Songs, obviously, are not Colin's strong suit...least of all love songs. After fifteen years of trying to
write one for the love of his life, Denise, Colin finally managed this humble effort: |
I leave you in the morning
C F C
Hard at work by nine
F C
Trying to remember
F C
How much of me is mine
Am D7 G
Chorus:
Stay as my wife
D C
With something borrowed
Em
Something blue
G
All of my life
D C
Is a journey
Em
Back to you.
G
Left you in the dreamtime
Came here to be born
Never could imagine
Never was I warned
Leave you in the springtime
Crops are in the field
Trying to surrender
But how much would I yield?
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