Saturday, April 28, 2012

Doubt Comes In

by Anaïs Mitchell

Doubt comes in and strips the paint
Doubt comes in and turns the wine
Doubt comes in and leaves a trace
Of vinegar and turpentine

Where are you?
Where are you now?

Doubt comes in and kills the lights
Doubt comes in and chills the air
Doubt comes in and all falls silent
It's as though you aren't there

Where are you?
Where are you now?

Orpheus, you're shivering
Is it cold or fear?
Just keep singing
The coldest night of the coldest year
Comes right before the spring


Doubt comes in with tricky fingers
Doubt comes in with fickle tongues
Doubt comes in and my heart falters
And forgets the songs it's sung

Where are you?
Where are you now?

Orpheus, hold on
Hold on tight
It won't be long
'Cause the darkest hour of the darkest night
Comes right before the dawn

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Lost (Planet Nice)

by Lee Ranaldo

When you're lost
When every indecision
Seems to fade away
Into the wind in vain

When every single dream
Requires revision
When they roll around
In your head again and again

'Cause you're lost
You really don't know
That you're lost
You're lost, but you're whole

When you hate
To seem like such a beginner
And the measure of your life
Runs right through your hand

When you're playing a game
Without any clear winner
And you do the things you do
Just because you can

But you're lost
You really don't know
That you're lost
You're lost, but you're whole

When you're lost
When your boyfriend's got no vision
But I can't sway you
'Cause he's still got the finest hands

If there's a howling in your night
But you just got to listen
You can use a friend
To help you understand

But you know
You really should know
That you move so good
You're lost, but you're whole

When you're lost
Lost in that perfect prison
I've heard about your days
In the wind and sand

When everything you say
Comes out like religion
You could use a friend
And some kind of a clear plan

'Cause you're lost
But you really don't know
How you lost
You lost, but you're whole

Monday, April 23, 2012

Brush Up Your Shakespeare

by Cole Porter

The girls today in society
Go for classical poetry
So to win their hearts one must quote with ease
Aeschylus and Euripides

One must know Homer, and believe me, beau
Sophocles, also Sappho-ho
Unless you know Shelley and Keats and Pope
Dainty Debbies will call you a dope

But the poet of them all
Who will start 'em simply ravin'
Is the poet people call
The Bard of Stratford-on-Avon

Brush up your Shakespeare
Start quoting him now
Brush up your Shakespeare
And the women you will wow

Just declaim a few lines from Othella
And they'll think you're a hell of a fella
If your blonde won't respond when you flatter 'er
Tell her what Tony told Cleopatterer
If she fights when her clothes you are mussing
What are clothes? Much Ado About Nussing
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kow-tow

With the wife of the British ambessida
Try a crack out of Troilus and Cressida
If she says she won't buy it or tike it
Make her tike it, what's more As You Like It
If she says your behavior is heinous
Kick her right in the Coriolanus
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kow-tow

If you can't be a ham and do Hamlet
They will not give a damn or a damlet
Just recite an occasional sonnet
And your lap will have honey upon it
When your baby is pleading for pleasure
Let her sample your Measure for Measure
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kow-tow

Better mention The Merchant Of Venice
When her sweet pound o' flesh you would menace
If her virtue, at first, she defends well
Just remind her that All's Well That Ends Well
And if still she won't give you a bonus
You know what Venus got from Adonis
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kow-tow

If your girl is a Washington Heights dream
Treat the kid to A Midsummer Night's Dream
If she then wants an all-by-herself night
Let her rest every 'leventh or Twelfth Night
If because of your heat she gets huffy
Simply play on and lay on, Macduffy!
Brush up your Shakespeare
And they'll all kow-tow

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

She's So High

by Tal Bachman

She's blood, flesh, and bone
No tucks or silicone
She's touch, smell, sight, taste, and sound
But somehow I can't believe
That anything should happen
I know where I belong
And nothing's going to happen

'Cause she's so high
High above me, she's so lovely
She's so high
Like Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, or Aphrodite

First class and fancy free
She's high society
She's got the best of everything
What could a guy like me
Ever really offer?
She's perfect as she can be
Why should I even bother?

She calls to speak to me
I freeze immediately
'Cause what she says sounds so unreal
'Cause somehow I can't believe
That anything should happen

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Stella Blue

by Robert Hunter

All the years combine
They melt into a dream
A broken angel sings
From a guitar

In the end there's just a song
Comes crying up the night
Through all the broken dreams
And vanished years
Stella Blue

When all the cards are down
There's nothing left to see
There's just the pavement left
And broken dreams

In the end there's still that song
Comes crying like the wind
Down every lonely street
That's ever been
Stella Blue

I've stayed in every blue light cheap hotel
Can't win for trying
Dust off those rusty strings just one more time
Going to make them shine

It all rolls into one
And nothing comes for free
There's nothing you can hold
For very long

And when you hear that song
Come crying like the wind
It seems like all this life
Was just a dream
Stella Blue

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

by Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
    He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Come, Ye Faithful, Raise the Strain

by John of Damascus
Trans. by John M. Neal


Come, ye faithful, raise the strain of triumphant gladness;
God hath brought forth Israel into joy from sadness;
Loosed from Pharaoh's bitter yoke Jacob's sons and daughters,
Led them with unmoistened foot through the Red Sea waters.

'Tis the spring of souls today; Christ has burst His prison,
And from three days' sleep in death as a sun hath risen;
All the winter of our sins, long and dark, is flying
From His light, to Whom we give laud and praise undying.

Now the queen of seasons, bright with the day of splendor,
With the royal feast of feasts, comes its joy to render;
Comes to glad Jerusalem, who with true affection
Welcomes in unwearied strains Jesus' resurrection.

Neither might the gates of death, nor the tomb's dark portal,
Nor the watchers, nor the seal hold Thee as a mortal;
But today amidst the twelve Thou didst stand, bestowing
That Thy peace which evermore passeth human knowing.

'Alleluia!' now we cry to our King immortal,
Who, triumphant, burst the bars of the tomb's dark portal;
'Alleluia!' with the Son, God the Father praising,
'Alleluia!' yet again to the Spirit raising.

Friday, April 6, 2012

How Deep the Father's Love for Us

by Stuart Townend

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That he should give his only Son
To make a wretch his treasure
How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns his face away
As wounds which mar the chosen one
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the man upon a cross
My sin upon his shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers
It was my sin that left him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
Why should I gain from his reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom