Friday, March 27, 2015


by Pete Townshend

There are men high up there fishing
Haven't seen quite enough of the world
I ain't seen a sign of my heroes
And I'm still diving down for pearls

Let me flow into the ocean
Let me get back to the sea
Let me be stormy, let me be calm
Let the tide in and set me free

I'm flowing under bridges
Then flying through the sky
I'm traveling down cold metal
Just a tear in baby's eye

I am not the actor
This can't be the scene
But I am in the water
As far as I can see

I'm remembering distant memories
Recalling other names
Rippling over canyons
And boiling in the train

Let me flow into the ocean
Let me get back to the sea
Let me be stormy and let me be calm
Let the tide in, rush over me

Friday, March 20, 2015

To the Thawing Wind

by Robert Frost

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snow-bank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate'er you do to-night,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ices go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o'er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Life Is a Carnival

by Levon Helm

You can walk on the water
Drown in the sand
You can fly off a mountaintop
If anybody can
Run away, run away
It's the restless age
Look away, look away
You can turn the page

Hey buddy, would you like
To buy a watch real cheap
Here on the street
I got six on each arm and two more round my feet
Life is a carnival
Believe it or not
Life is a carnival
Two bits a shot

Saw a man with the jinx
In the third degree
From trying to deal with people
People you can't see
Take away, take away
This house of mirrors
Give away, give away
All the souvenirs

We're all in the same boat
Ready to float off the edge of the world
The flat old world
The street is a sideshow
From the peddler to the corner girl
Life is a carnival
It's in the book
Life is a carnival
Take another look

Friday, March 13, 2015

Colin Zeal

by Damon Albarn

Colin Zeal knows the value of mass appeal
He's a pedestrian walker, he's a civil talker
He's an affable man with a plausible plan
Keeps his eye on the news, keeps his future in hand

And then he looks at his watch
He's on time yet again
He's pleased with himself
He's so pleased with himself

While sitting in traffic, Colin thinks in automatic
He's an immaculate dresser, he's your common aggressor
He's a modern retard with a love of bombast
Keeps his eye on the news, doesn't dwell on the past

He's a modern retard, he's a terminal lard
He's an affable man with a carotene tan
Because Colin Zeal is ill

Monday, March 2, 2015

Let the Lord Shine a Light on Me

by Noel Gallagher

When I feel like a drop in the ocean
But there's no one else at sea
And my body's bent and broken
Let the Lord shine a light on me

Now the voices in the distance
Trying to sing their soul to sleep
When I'm drifting in the silence
Let the Lord shine a light on me

If I raise you up to the top of the mountain
Made you tell me what you see
And I'm standing on this island
Did the Lord shine a light on me?

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

All Along the Watchtower

by Bob Dylan

'There must be some way out of here,' said the joker to the thief
'There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth'

'No reason to get excited,' the thief, he kindly spoke
'There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late'

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the Air,
      Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
      Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
            Silent, and soft, and slow
            Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
      Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
      In the white countenance confession,
            The troubled sky reveals
            The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
      Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
      Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
            Now whispered and revealed
            To wood and field.