• the ticonderoga

    Ago 27 2011, 23h58

    The Ticonderoga

    Old ship, give me your hands.
    I'm the cape that came to crush and snag you on my sands
    Below the ocean, and from my point of view,
    You were always drinking, and drunk well before noon,
    And dreaming on my pillow of high tide.
    But I'd allow you.

    Old friend, give me back my hands.
    I'm the crutch that's missing, and you're the crippled little lamb.
    Those claws will get you; those teeth will take your life,
    But you won't know what's missing.
    This gift ain't giving. This wolf ain't worth the fight.

    If you get lost...
    If you get lost...
    You'll lose tonight.

    This gift ain't giving. This wolf ain't worth the fight.

    If you get lost...
    If you get lost...
    You'll lose tonight.


    -- Bowerbirds, "The Ticonderoga"

    songwriting as art
  • i've got a match

    Abr 19 2011, 6h09

    I've Got A Match

    Get out of the car
    Put down the phone
    Take off that stupid looking hat you wear
    I'm going to die if you touch me one more time
    Well I guess that I'm going to die no matter what

    Love people are there
    The smell of love is everywhere
    You think it's always sensitive and good
    You think that I want to be understood
    I've got a match
    Your embrace and my collapse

    Beat up the cat if you need someone else on the mat
    I put a rock in the coffee in your coffee mug
    Which one of us is the one that we can't trust?
    You say that I think it's you but I don't agree with that

    Love people are there
    The smell of love is everywhere
    You think it's always sensitive and good
    You think that I want to be understood
    I've got a match
    Your embrace and my collapse
    even when we get along
    I've got a match
    Your embrace and my collapse

    Love people are there
    The smell of love is everywhere
    Why can't you be sensitive and good
    Why don't you want to be understood
    I've got a match
    Your embrace and my collapse
    I've got a match
    Your embrace and my collapse


    -- They Might Be Giants, "I've Got a Match"

    songwriting as art
  • transistor radio

    Abr 13 2011, 21h52

    Transistor Radio

    I heard grandpa on my transistor radio,
    Though he turned in his bones twenty years ago,
    And he said, "Kid, there's something that I'd like to show you.
    Get your things, it's time for us to go."
    So I grabbed my backpack, my flashlight, and a bag of caramel corn.
    I got my bicycle, and the radio, and I headed out on on the road. I said,
    "I'm ready for what I'm about to see, Yup!"

    I headed north to rain that turned to snow
    Through rusty towns and dusty gravel roads,
    And I said, "Grandpa, where is this thing you wanted to show me?"
    He said, "Kid, you got a long way to go."
    So I went through canyons, caves and catacombs. I sailed on bicycle boats.
    I slept in chapels and brothels, I met the nicest folks.
    I said, "I'm ready for what I'm about to see, Yup!"

    I heard grandpa on my transistor radio.
    He said, "Kid, it's time for me to go,
    And I know that there was something that I wanted to show you,
    But it's time for you to find it on your own."
    Let me tell you about rage when a signal died that day.
    "There's nothing out there and I don't care if they take my life away
    I'm not ready and I don't want to see, Nope!"

    It's been years since I heard my transistor radio,
    Yet I keep going to where it seems I'm meant to go,
    And I finally realized what he wanted to show me:
    Where I've been and where I am is the show.
    Where I've been and where I am is the show.
    Where I've been and where I am is the show.



    -- Cloud Cult, "Transistor Radio"



    songwriting as art
  • famous blue raincoat

    Abr 8 2011, 23h07

    Famous Blue Raincoat

    It's four in the morning, the end of December
    I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
    New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
    There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

    I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
    You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

    Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
    She said that you gave it to her
    That night that you planned to go clear
    Did you ever go clear?

    Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
    Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
    You'd been to the station to meet every train
    And you came home without Lili Marlene

    And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
    And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

    Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
    One more thin gypsy thief
    Well I see Jane's awake --
    She sends her regards.

    And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
    What can I possibly say?
    I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
    I'm glad you stood in my way.

    If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
    Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

    Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
    I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

    And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
    She said that you gave it to her
    That night that you planned to go clear

    Sincerely, L. Cohen



    songwriting as art
  • like the wheel

    Mar 15 2011, 9h46

    Like the Wheel

    oh i wish i was the sparrow in your kid's eye
    like a fly above is summer all day long
    on an island in the heart he has to carry
    past the many you have let into your song

    and i said oh my lord why am i not strong
    like the wheel that keeps travelers traveling on
    like the wheel that will take you home

    and in the forest someone is whispering to a tree now
    this is all i am so please don't fall on me
    and it's your brother in the shaft that i'm swinging
    please let the kindness of forgetting set me free

    and he said oh my lord why am i not strong
    like the wheel that keeps travelers traveling on
    like the wheel that will take you home

    and on this sunday someone's sititng down to wonder
    where the hell among these mountains will i be?
    there's a cloud behind the cloud to which i'm yelling
    i could hear you sneak around so easily

    and i said oh my lord why am i not strong
    like the branch that keeps hangman hanging on
    like the branch that will take me home



    songwriting as art
  • hooves

    Out 27 2010, 4h53

    Hooves

    Back to when I was born on a full moon,
    I nearly split my mama in two,
    And while she held me proud I had the thought:
    "Well, there is no one more beautiful than you."
    Ahhhhh ahhhhhhh
    And you're the kindlin' still that burns below my heart,
    And you're the hooves that lead me through the forest.

    Ahhhhh ahhhhhhh
    And you're the kindlin' still that burns below my heart,
    You're the memory now that lives across the world,
    While the wind howls low and tries to steal my hours,
    You're the hooves that lead me through the forest.


    [ songwriting as art ]
  • casimir pulaski day

    Mai 28 2009, 15h45

    Casimir Pulaski Day

    Golden rod and the 4-H stone
    The things I brought you
    When I found out you had cancer of the bone

    Your father cried on the telephone
    And he drove his car to the Navy yard
    Just to prove that he was sorry

    In the morning through the window shade
    When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade
    I could see what you were reading

    Oh the glory that the lord has made
    And the complications you could do without
    When I kissed you on the mouth

    Tuesday night at the bible study
    We lift our hands and pray over your body
    But nothing ever happens

    I remember at Michael's house
    In the living room when you kissed my neck
    And I almost touched your blouse

    In the morning at the top of the stairs
    When your father found out what we did that night
    And you told me you were scared

    Oh the glory when you ran outside
    With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied
    And you told me not to follow you

    Sunday night when I cleaned the house
    I find the card where you wrote it out
    With the pictures of your mother

    On the floor at the great divide
    With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
    I am crying in the bathroom

    In the morning when you finally go
    And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
    And the cardinal hits the window

    In the morning in the winter shade
    On the first of March on the holiday
    I thought I saw you breathing

    Oh the glory that the lord has made
    And the complications when I see his face
    In the morning in the window

    Oh the glory when he took our place
    But he took my shoulders and he shook my face
    And he takes and he takes and he takes


    [ songwriting as art]
  • antlers

    Mai 13 2009, 21h52

    Antlers

    little bird i invite you, build your nest
    little bird, i've got branches above my head
    sway with me aimlessly, walk over mountains high
    find winter nights with me, hang in your hammock high
    over me and over flight and all fright to me
    pick up your hands and become
    reindeers or maybe a storm
    be pleasant be glassy be born
    go ahead be the bird in my horns

    come with me


    [ songwriting as art ]
  • nobody's fault but my own

    Mai 6 2009, 16h02

    Nobody's Fault But My Own

    treated you like a rusty blade
    a throwaway from an open grave
    cut you loose from a chain gang and let you go
    and on the day you said it's true
    some love holds, some gets used
    tried to tell you i never knew it could be so sweet
    who could ever be so cruel,
    blame the devil for the things you do
    its such a selfish way to lose
    the way you lose these wasted blues, these wasted blues

    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own

    when the moon is a counterfeit
    better find the one that fits
    better find the one that lights
    the way for you


    when the road is full of nails,
    garbage pails and darkened jails
    and their tongues are full of heartless tales that drain on you
    who would ever notice you
    you fade into a shaded room
    it's such a selfish way to lose
    the way you lose these wasted blues, these wasted blues

    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own

    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own
    tell me that it's nobody's fault
    nobody's fault but my own...



    [ songwriting as art ]
  • some summer day

    Abr 23 2009, 15h27

    Some Summer Day

    some summer day, we'll dance again
    and, come what may, i love you
    goodbye, my friend, goodbye
    fly far away from vile abuse
    some summer day, i'll see you
    til then, refuse to sing

    [ songwriting as art ]