by Noel Gallagher
You know that feeling you get
You feel you're older than time
You ain't exactly sure
If you've been away a while
Do you keep the receipts
For the friends that you buy?
And ain't it bittersweet
You were only just getting by
But I hope you know
That it won't let go
It sticks around with you until the day you die
And I hope you know
That it's touch and go
I hope the tears don't stain the world that waits outside
Where did it all go wrong?
And until you've repaid
The dreams you bought for your lies
You'll be cast away
Alone under the stormy skies
Where did it all go wrong?
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Where Did It All Go Wrong?
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: aging, disharmony
Monday, August 24, 2009
Into Tomorrow
by Paul Weller
Into the mists of time and space
Where we have no say over date and place
Don't get embarrassed if it happens a lot
That you don't know how you started
Or when you're going to stop
And if at times it seems insane
All the tears in searching
Turning all your joy to pain
In pursuit of learning
Buy a dream and hide away
Can't escape the sorrow
Your mojo will have no effect
As we head into tomorrow
Round and round like a twisted wheel
Spinning in attempt to find the feel
Find the path that will help us find
A feeling of control over lives and minds
Into the stars and always up
Drinking from a broken cup
Whose golden gleam is fading fast
Praying that it has not passed
Into tomorrow
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Friday, August 21, 2009
If I Could
by Trey Anastasio
Take me to another place, she said
Take me to another time
Run with me across the oceans
Float me on a silver cloud
If I could, I would
But I don't know how
If I could, I would
And I'd take you now
Stay with me till time turns over
I want to feel my feet leave the ground
Take me where the whispering breezes
Can lift me up and spin me around
Hear you laughing as we go
Flipping backward through the doors
And through the windows
I'm melting into nothing
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Patchwork Quilt
by Warren Haynes
I never knew you
But then who really did?
If you were at all like me
You managed to keep yourself hid
A patchwork quilt of a life
Memories embroidered on your soul
So please forgive me
For putting you in my song
But the spirit, she moves me
In fact, she pushes me along
It's a patchwork quilt of a life
Can't stop the river, just let it roll
We were at Jones Beach when we got the word
Saddest sound that I ever heard
The bluest note that nobody could play
Ravens sang with us that night on the stage
Tears of sadness, tears of rage
But nobody spoke, we all felt old and in the way
So walk beside me
Or above me, I don't know
These days it sure seems
I'm lost where ever I go
'God, how could you?'
I heard someone say
And what do we do
With our lives now anyway?
Now that our North Star
Can no longer be found
But there's a banjo moon in a tie-dyed sky
Hippies dance and babies cry
Church bells ring
As a silver-haired angel looks down
And the blood of his music
Runs through the veins of our guitars
Bright lights, Dark Star
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Cortez the Killer
by Neil Young
He came dancing across the water
With his galleons and guns
Looking for the new world
And that palace in the sun
On the shore lay Montezuma
With his coca leaves and pearls
In his halls he often wandered
With the secrets of the worlds
And his subjects gathered 'round him
Like the leaves around a tree
In their clothes of many colors
For the angry gods to see
And the women all were beautiful
And the men stood straight and strong
They offered life in sacrifice
So that others could go on
Hate was just a legend
And war was never known
The people worked together
And they lifted many stones
And they carried them to the flatlands
But they died along the way
And they built up with their bare hands
What we still can't do today
And I know she's living there
And she loves me to this day
I still can't remember when
Or how I lost my way
He came dancing across the water
Cortez, Cortez
What a killer
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: history, melancholia, memory, Young
Monday, August 3, 2009
Lost in the Flood
by Bruce Springsteen
The ragamuffin gunner is returning home
Like a hungry runaway
He walks through town all alone
'He must be from the fort,' he hears the high school girls say
His countryside's burning with wolfman fairies
Dressed in drag for homicide
They hit and run, plead sanctuary
'Neath a holy stone they hide
They're breaking beams and crosses
With a spastic's reeling perfection
Nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant
Pleading immaculate conception
And everybody's wrecked on Main Street
From drinking unholy blood
Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep
His ankles caked in mud
And I said, 'Hey, gunner man, that's quicksand
'That's quicksand, that ain't mud
'Have you thrown your senses to the war?
'Or did you lose them in the flood?'
That pure American brother
Dull-eyed and empty-faced
He races Sundays in Jersey
In a Chevy stock Super Eight
He rides her low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory
In red, white, and blue flash paint
He leans on the hood telling racing stories
The kids call him Jimmy The Saint
Well the blaze and noise boy, he's gunnin' that bitch
Loaded to blasting point
He rides head first into a hurricane
And disappears into a point
And there's nothing left but some blood where the body fell
That is, nothing left that you could sell
just junk all across the horizon
A real highwayman's farewell
And I said, 'Hey kid, you think that's oil?
'Man, that ain't oil, that's blood'
I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm
Or was he just lost in the flood?
Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts
Whisper in the air
Some storefront incarnation of Maria
She's putting on me the stare
And Bronx's best apostle stands
With his hand on his own hardware
Everything stops, you hear five quick shots
The cops come up for air
And now the whiz-bang gang from uptown
They're shooting up the street
And that cat from the Bronx starts letting loose
But he gets blown right off his feet
And some kid comes blasting round the corner
But a cop puts him right away
He lays on the street holding his leg, screaming something in Spanish
Still breathing when I walked away
And someone said, 'Hey man did you see that?
'His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud'
I wonder what the dude was saying
Or was he just lost in the flood?
Hey man, did you see that?
Those poor cats are sure messed up
I wonder what they were getting into
Or were they all just lost in the flood?
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: Americana, disharmony, romanticism, Springsteen, surrealism