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first takes lyrics:
spell of memories
war stories
why can't
we just sit a while,
out in front of a shop somewhere -
let the sun set behind us
into the banks of the seine?
'cause we
all need someone
to listen to our war stories
a loving ear will make it better
when was
the last time
we shared a continent?
or a fancy-schmancy
hotel on the main?
'cause we
all need someone
to help us heal our war wounds
a loving ear will make it better
when was
the last time
we shared a continent?
or a picnic on the beach,
looking into the north sea night,
and i might wonder
where you are -
'cause we
all need someone
to listen to our war stories
a loving ear will make it better
margaret
an answer for yoko
two days from timbuktu,
rolling over land -
hide from the bandits in the hills.
i sleep beneath the stars and watch the night fires burn,
and the moon chase orion to the ground.
and she says, "when
was the last time you saw the horizon?"
and i say, "yoko, that's my world."
ain't nothing out here
but the wind, the waves and sky.
sixteen shades of blue and fourteen green
as i watch the sun fly over and blow kisses to my sails -
and burst into flame at evening time.
and she says, "when
was the last time you saw the horizon?"
and i say, "yoko, that's my world."
climbing through the clouds
in the early morning light,
watching birds so far below -
high above the snowline in thin air icy cold,
alone in a world of my own.
and she says, "when
was the last time you saw the horizon?"
and i say, "yoko, that's my world."
barcelona
let yourself move on
they built a wall outside beijing,
and another in katmandu.
they filled the holy land with concrete and barbed wire,
so the germans built one. too.
now you've gone and built a wall around
your city:
throw out the pictures of our past,
burn the bridges we once walked on
take that old guitar and throw it in the trash,
let yourself move on.
they bombed the bridges on the rhine,
and from the kwai to dien bien phu.
they bombed the tigris just last year,
and all the other rivers, too
and if you want to burn this bridge we
built together,
throw out the pictures of our past,
burn the bridges we once walked on
take that old guitar and throw it in the trash,
let yourself move on.
cut from cloth
solace, sacred sound
of silent shifting sands,
countless constellations.
shepards' night fires burn,
a solitary prophet communes in his sorrow:
mother, can you hear
me?
three messiahs stood
in the cradle of the ages,
sinew bone and marrow.
plowshares into swords:
your brittle hegemony
reaps the spoils of war.
mother, can you hear
me?
we are cut from cloth
that wrapped the ancient mages
on their spitting camels
we are carved from wood:
the burgundy soul
of lebanon cedar.
mother, can you hear
me?
mother, can you hear?
watch out
draw the line
lines become
squares become boxes
boxes become lives, become our families
i draw a circle and paint me in, paint you out
what makes a circle of friends can make enemies
chorus:
it comes down to who we love
it comes down to how we love
not where we draw the line
i draw my circle to protect
my self
my box becomes my life becomes our society
ignorance becomes violence, silence becomes fear
fear becomes hate, becomes rage, becomes war
chorus
white and black, straight
and gay, boy and girl
whites kill blacks, straights kill gays, boys kill girls
protestant and catholic, arab and jew
where were you born, which church do you go to?
Chorus
destiny bound
we are bound in a whirlwind of confusion
-
the way we live, and how our lives could be,
we are bound to our manifest destiny:
bend the backs of others while we live free.
we are bound in the rhetoric of politics:
what they do, and the future that i see.
we are bound to suffer for our choices:
i can choose between two men who will choose for me.
chorus:
but i won't be bound to their borders
i won't have their chains on my feet,
no i won't be bound to their borders -
they can't have me.
we are bound to our concrete jungles
to never feel the earth beneath our feet.
we are bound to our slick metal cages,
the world goes by our windows, but we can't see.
we are bound to artificial atmosphere
to never feel the earth as we breathe.
we are bound to our satellite boxes -
the world goes by our windows, and we watch it on tv.
chorus
love's lost
closer to home
"closer to home"
was recorded with permission from carrie newcomer.
it's a beautiful song, and we're grateful that we could record it.
visit carrie's website
to buy the original version.
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