War Is Kind

by Stephen Crane

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom—
A field where a thousand corpses lie.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind!

Tears of Rage

by Bob Dylan

We carried you in our arms
On Independence Day
And now you'd throw us all aside
And put us all away
Oh, what dear daughter 'neath the sun
Could treat a father so?
To wait upon him hand and foot
And always tell him, 'No'

Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why must I always be the thief?
Come to me now
You know we're so low
And life is brief

It was all very painless
When you ran out to receive
All that false instruction
Which we never could believe
And now the heart is filled with gold
As if it was a purse
But, oh, what kind of love is this
Which goes from bad to worse?

We pointed you the way to go
And scratched your name in sand
Though you just thought it was nothing more
Than a place for you to stand
I want you to know that while we watched
You discovered no one would be true
And I myself was among
The ones who thought
It was just a childish thing to do

Tony (Boston's Chosen Son)

by Steve Wynn

Set against the fading Fenway sun
Years since the last pennant had been won
Long since the Bambino had been bought
Boston found the hero it had sought

Tony, our hearts beat as one
Tony, you're Boston's chosen son
In August he was only 22
And there was nothing that he couldn't do

That bastard Hamilton threw at his head
Tony dropped, the crowd feared he was dead
Tony, our hearts bleed as one
Tony, what has that pitcher done?

But miracle of miracles on Lansdowne Street
A comeback and a home run swing returning, oh so sweet!
But it was never meant to be
Tony cried 'I cannot see!'
His eyes, they fade; the fans, they cried
And at 45 Tony died

Tony, our hearts they still ring true
Tony, we still remember you
Tony, our hearts they beat as one
Tony, you're Boston's chosen son

I Just Wasn't Made for These Times

by Tony Asher

I keep looking for a place to fit in
Where I can speak my mind
And I've been trying hard to find the people
That I won't leave behind

They say I got brains
But they ain't doing me no good
I wish they could

Each time things start to happen again
I think I got something good going for myself
But what goes wrong

Sometimes I feel very sad
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Ain't found the right thing I can put my heart and soul into)
Sometimes I feel very sad
(People I know don't wanna be where I'm at)
I guess I just wasn't made for these times

Every time I get the inspiration
To go change things around
No one wants to help me look for places
Where new things might be found

Where can I turn
When my fair-weathered friends cop out
What's it all about?

I guess I just wasn't made for these times

First Song That I Sing

by Sara Groves

In the morning when I rise
Help me to prioritize
All the thoughts that fill my day
Before my schedule
Tells me that my day is full
Before I'm off and on my way

I want to praise You
I need to praise You
Let the first song that I sing
Be praises to my God and King

Before the curtains part
Before my day is starting
Before I make up the bed
Before the snooze alarm
Reminds me that it's morning
Before the dreams have left my head

Before my feet hit the floor
I'll praise You, Lord
Before I fill my cup
I'll lift You up
Before I start my day
I'll sing Your praise
Before I start my car
Before I get too far

The Golden Gates Are Lifted Up

by Cecil Francis Alexander

The golden gates are lifted up,
the doors are opened wide;
the King of glory is gone in
unto his Father's side.

Thou art gone up before us, Lord,
to make for us a place,
that we may be where now thou art,
and look upon God's face.

And ever on our earthly path
a gleam of glory lies,
a light still breaks behind the cloud
that veiled thee from our eyes.

Lift up our hearts, lift up our minds:
let thy dear grace be giv'n,
that, while we wander here below,
our treasure be in heav'n;

That where thou art, at God's right hand,
our hope, our love, may be:
dwell thou in us, that we may dwell
forevermore in thee.