|
one night in louisana lyrics:
Memories of East Texas (Michelle Shocked)
Memories of East Texas
And those piney green rolling hills
Covered in the springtime
With wild daffodils
Rowing on Sandy Lake come April
Harvesting hay in June
Sitting by the road watching wellfires burn
By an old October moon
I learned to drive on those East Texas red clay backroads
And I mean to tell you my friend
They weren't no easy roads
You had to watch out for all the curves
Down by Kelsey Creek
And detour through the Lindsay´s pasture
When the water ran too deep
Memories of East Texas
And Gilmer, county seat of Upshur
Looking back and asking myself
'What the hell'd you let them break your spirit for?'
You know, their lives ran in circles so small
Ah, they thought they'd seen it all
And they could not make a place for a girl who'd seen the ocean
chorus
Ah, but those memories of East Texas
And those piney green rolling hills
Covered in the springtime
With those wild daffodils
Sitting in those Piney Woods
Playing my guitar
Thinking back on the roads I'd come
Thinking I had not come that far...
Spirit of Amelia
"KHAQQ calling itasca. We must be on you but
cannot see you.
gas is running low: we are flying north and south."
in a world of crazy circumstance,
children's books and rocket ships,
at six years old i was bound for the stars.
my heros were all travelers:
jacques cousteau and curious george,
and a woman who would fly around the world.
as a child i dreamed i'd find her plane,
and pull it from the sea again,
so the world would know the truth about that flight.
i was born with the spirit of amelia,
and ferdinand magellan by my side
there's the ghost of edmund hillary,
and he smiles as he salutes to me
and says "son, that's one hell of a ride."
the spirit of amelia.
we push ourselves against the world,
because it's there, because we must.
courage is the price we pay for peace.
and the ones who never understand
suck through their teeth and shake their heads
as another lonely traveller plays her hand.
she's lost the man on the radio,
no fuel left, and on she goes,
straining with her life to find land.
she was born with the spirit of amelia,
and captain tania aebi by her side
there's the ghost of st. exupéry,
and they smiles as they salute to me
and say"son, that's one hell of a ride."
the spirit of amelia.
"itasca, where are you?"
"itasca, where are you?"
Haha No Nai Ko (Maki Asakawa)
Toki ni wa - haha no nai ko no yo ni
hitori de umi ni mitsumete itai.
Dakedo kokoro wa sugu kawaru.
Haha no nai ko ni nata nara
dare ni mo ai wo hanasanai.
Woman Blues
high-heeled shoes say nothin' about me,
nothin' bout who i am, or who i wanna be.
push-up bras say nothin' about me,
nothin' bout who i am, or who i wanna be.
pinup mags say nothin' about me,
nothin' bout who i am, or who i wanna be.
Murder of Crows
sit stone silent
greet the sweet embrace of darkness
as the gentle hand of evening
slows the beating of your heart
but not your head - these questions come
like a murder of crows devour the midday sun
and shed no light
friends bear faithful witness
as a one-eyed priest looks on.
and the nameless angel fights you
with your hip out of joint
but not your head - these questions come
like a murder of crows devour the midday sun
and shed no light
it may take these words from your head,
or the life from your body as you lie in bed
but grit your teeth and hold your fingers true
'cause no, my friend, no - it'll never take you.
no, my friend, no - it'll never take you.
Lebanon
War-torn and broken, and so far away -
you don´t hear the shells through a TV screen, or feel a mother´s
pain.çIt´s the same old killing field, since before there
were bombs -
I do it to you because you do it to me: Hammurabi made this war.
Why can´t they stop the fighting - call the soldiers off -
Let the innocent prisoners go free? So many children dying, so many
homes destroyed. Where the justice, where the peace?
Chorus: It´s easy to ask why - but it´s hard to look inside
- through
the rubble and the dust. ´Cause we all have Lebanon: inside of
us.
Half a world away, or halfway down the street, us and them is just
how
we see. That gated community could be austin or Beirut - they´re
both
the same to me.
Chorus
Why don´t we say we´re sorry to the ones we love the most?
stand down
our sentries with their guns? Raze the walls around our hearts, speak
no more barbed wire. Stand still when fear tells us to run.
Chorus
"I Will Come for You"
Harry Stone was a soldier in the spring of '44,
and Harry loved a woman who would never be his wife.
he met her in a restaurant in a quiet town in belgium.
she liked his sweet demeanor, and so she took him home.
The summer months passed quickly in the sweetness of their loving.
it took away their longing, and his memories of the fight.
but with autumn came the orders - the troops were moving onward.
with teary eyes and bitter smiles, he swore that he'd return:
"I will come for you. I will be your husband. We will be a family,
and
we will share our lives."
each week he wrote her letters and prayed that he'd hear word -
of the child she carried and of her life at home.
fall of '46, he'd gone back to pittsburgh. still he wrote her letters,
but she never did respond.
"i will come for you. i will be your husband. we will be a family,
and
we will share our lives."
in august '48, he met another woman. they would raise a family
of three daughters in their home.
and he was almost eighty that winter afternoon,
when he heard a soft french voice on the telephone:
"mr. stone? i'm your daughter. grandma hid the letters -
and never told my mother that you were still alive.
and mother never told me about the man who is my father.
i never read your letters untill after she had died."
"can i come to you? can i be your daughter? can we be a family,
and
can we share our lives?"
Guatemala
Those mountains in the distance might be our salvation
if we could just get through tonight.
you say those words again, like a river cuts a canyon
the cold unfeeling edge of a knife.
Twenty bucks between us, in an icy cold motel room
I put pen to paper as you sleep.
The canyon walls whisper the story of forever,
as the rim rock bleeds into the dust under our feet.
Chorus:
I´ve never loved another half as much, or hurt a lover half as
bad.
We never wanted anything but love.
What we got was Guatemala, and the road was all we had.
One tiny motorcycle is just too small a world
for hearts that flutter in the breeze.
so you wrapped yourself around me all the way through Mexico
But not even faith would set us free.
Chorus
You weren´t in the frame when I drew that picture,
But the lines were loaded with your love.
Your soul was in the shadows, you breathed into the paper,
you said "lives once together will forever live in love."
Chorus
Amarilli (Giulio Caccini)
Amarilli me bella
non credi, o del mio cor
dolce desio d´esser tu l´amor mio?
Credi lo pur, e se timor t´assale
dubitar, non ti vale
aprimi il petto e vedrai scritto in core:
Amarilli, Amarilli, Amarilli e il mio amore
Ghost in the Machine
She´s the crackle in the lines of code, the diamond in the verse´s
ring,
The buzz and hum between the words of every song you sing.
She´s the rhythm thumping through the wires of every living thing,
the stomp and roar is helped along by the sacrifice you bring.
´Cause poetry and power will force a grown man´s tears,
a well placed line will bring him down, naked with his fears.
The song seeps through the shell, kills the cynic where he lays,
the knife of rhyme relentless in the things that it displays.
Chorus:
Not ours to question why - blood pumps in a vein
Not ours to question - the sacred prayer for rain.
Not ours to question - the soul of things unseen.
Not ours to question - the Ghost in the machine.
It´s the faintest whisper in your head in the stillest hour of
night.
Scratch on virgin paper the things the voices write.
Creak of the hinges - the wind lets herself inside,
Spills the tune into the strings and sends it down the line.
Chorus
Allahu, Elohim, God or Devil, I don´t care.
Sinners, saints, and songwriters have seen beyond the veil.
She´s the crackle in the lines of code, the diamond in the verse´s
ring,
The buzz and hum between the words, the Ghost in the machine.
Kuu (Thomas Urb)
Vihmana ma sajan, vihmana ma sajan aeda.
Tuulena ma lendan, tuulena ma lendan ringi
Vihmana ma sajan, vihmana ma sajan aeda.
Tuulena ma lendan, tuulena ma lendan ringi Sinu öös...
Olen kuu?
Tulena ma kannan, tulena ma kannan jõudu.
Kastena ma emban, kastena ma emban jalgu.
Tulena ma kannan, tulena ma kannan jõudu.
Kastena ma emban, kastena ma emban jalgu Sinu öös...
Olen kuu ...
Järvena ma vaatan, järvena ma vaatan üles.
Taevana kuulan, taevana kuulan alla.
Järvena ma vaatan, järvena ma vaatan üles.
Taevana kuulan, taevana kuulan alla.
Mäena ma vaikin, mäena ma vaikin paljust.
Merena ma randun, merena ma randun õue.
Mäena ma vaikin, mäena ma vaikin paljust.
Merena ma randun, merena ma randun õue Sinu öös...
Olen kuu ...
This Song is Not My Own
This song is not my own:
what began as an egg will fly like a bird.
It´ll speak to you in ways you´ll never know, and
you´ll hear stories I never told.
Chorus:
It´s the way of the world, and riddles untold
Maybe there´s God - or not, I don´t know.
But this song is not my own.
This life is not my own:
Cousteau said I can´t have it alone
The paths that I have walked, the songs that I´ve sung -
are like somebody gave me a job that I´ve done.
Chorus:
It´s the way of the world, and riddles untold
Maybe there´s God - or not, I don´t know.
But this life is not my own.
Ths world is not our own:
We worship at the feet of the unknown.
Holding each other´s hands as we walk down the road,
for comfort in the dark night of our souls.
Chorus:
It´s the way of the world, and riddles untold
Maybe there´s God - or not, I don´t know.
But this world is not our own.
Stronger For Your Flame
Some of us shine bold like Beetlejuice is bright:
a few you´d barely notice in the early evening light.
Some of us burn soft, like a lamp´s sweetest oil:
Others sputter smoke and ash in lives of pain and toil.
Some try to hide it behind a suit and tie,
or do the best they can in teh world of nine to five.
Chorus:
Maybe you were all of this and more,
borrowed light from those who came before.
And the children who haven´t yet been named
are stronger for your spark, stronger for your flame.
Were you a blazing ball of fire, before you were even born?
Did you find the cure for Polio, or make the telephone?
Were you disobedient at the age of thirty-three,
When some wiseass Roman soldier had you nailed up to a tree?
Maybe you were black and tired, on the front seat of a bus,
Or on a protest march in Bombay lying facedown in the dust.
Chorus
What if there´s no drama in the day to day?
Life a load of pots and pans, and diapers to be changed?
You´d rather climb a mountain, or walk to Timbuktu,
But the truest life burns just as strong, no matter what you choose.
You don´t need to burn up in a brilliant ball of flame,
we´ll be blessed, even if we never know your name.
Chorus
|