Someday We'll Know

by Gregg Alexander

Ninety miles outside Chicago
Can't stop driving, I don't know why
So many questions, I need an answer
Two years later you're still on my mind

Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart?
Who holds the stars up in the sky?
Is true love just once in a lifetime?
Did the captain of the Titanic cry?

Someday we'll know
If love can move a mountain
Someday we'll know
Why the sky is blue
Someday we'll know
Why I wasn't meant for you

Does anybody know the way to Atlantis?
Or what the wind says when she cries?
I'm speeding by the place that I met you
For the ninety-seventh time tonight

I bought a ticket to the end of the rainbow
I watch the stars crash in the sea
If I could ask God just one question
Why aren't you here with me tonight?

Someday we'll know
Why Samson loved Delilah
One day I'll go
Dancing on the moon
Someday you'll know
That I was the one for you

Sleepwalker

by Jakob Dylan

Maybe I could be the one they adore
That could be my reputation
It's where I'm from that lets them think I'm a whore
I'm an educated virgin

Sleepwalker, don't be shy
Now don't open your eyes tonight
You'll be the one that defends my life
While I'm dead asleep dreaming

Cupid, don't draw back your bow
Sam Cooke didn't know what I know
I'll never be your valentine
The sleepwalker in me and God only know that I've tried

Let me in, let me drown, or learn how to swim
Just don't leave me at the window
I could be the one to be your next best friend
You may need someone to hold you

Sleepwalker, take this knife
You may see someone tonight
You'd be the one that saves my life
When I'm dead asleep dreaming

I'm in your movie, and everyone looks sad
But I can hear your voice in the laugh track
But you never saw my best scene
The one where I sleepwalk into your dreams

Sleepwalker, what's my line?
It's only a matter of time
Until I learn to open up my eyes
When I'm dead asleep dreaming

Cupid, don't draw back your bow
Sam Cooke didn't know what I know
I'll never be your valentine
The sleepwalker in me and God only know that I've tried

4th of July, Asbury Park

by Bruce Springsteen

Sandy, the fireworks are hailing
Over Little Eden tonight
Forcing a light into all those stoned-out faces
Left stranded on this Fourth of July
Down in town the circuit's full with switchblade lovers
So fast, so shiny, and sharp
As the wizards play down on Pinball Way
On the boardwalk way past dark
And the boys from the casino dance with their shirts open
Like Latin lovers along the shore
Chasing all them silly New York girls by the score

Sandy, the aurora is rising behind us
The pier lights our carnival life forever
Love me tonight, for I may never see you again
Hey Sandy girl

Now the greasers, they tramp the streets
Or get busted for trying to sleep on the beach all night
Them boys in their spiked high-heels
Ah Sandy, their skins are so white
And me, I just got tired of hanging in them dusty arcades
Banging them pleasure machines
Chasing the factory girls underneath the boardwalk
Where they all promise to unsnap their jeans
And you know that tilt-a-whirl down on the south beach drag
I got on it last night, and my shirt got caught
And that Joey kept me spinning
I didn't think I'd ever get off

Sandy, the aurora is rising behind us
The pier lights our carnival life on the water
Running down the beach at night with my boss's daughter
Well he ain't my boss no more, Sandy

Sandy, the angels have lost their desire for us
I spoke to them just last night
And they said they won't set themselves on fire for us anymore
Every summer when the weather gets hot they ride that road
Down from heaven on their Harleys they come and they go
And you can see them dressed like stars in all the cheap little seashore bars
Parked with their babies out on the Kokomo
The cops finally busted Madame Marie
For telling fortunes better than they do
This boardwalk life for me is through
You know you ought to quit this scene too

Sandy, the aurora's rising behind us
The pier lights our carnival life forever
Love me tonight, and I promise I'll love you forever

Ulysses

by Alfred Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees; all times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy,
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

    This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

    There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Gerontion

by T.S. Eliot

Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an after dinner sleep
Dreaming of both.

Here I am, an old man in a dry month,
Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.
I was neither at the hot gates
Nor fought in the warm rain
Nor knee deep in the salt marsh, heaving a cutlass,
Bitten by flies, fought.
My house is a decayed house,
And the jew squats on the window sill, the owner,
Spawned in some estaminet of Antwerp,
Blistered in Brussels, patched and peeled in London.
The goat coughs at night in the field overhead;
Rocks, moss, stonecrop, iron, merds.
The woman keeps the kitchen, makes tea,
Sneezes at evening, poking the peevish gutter.

          I an old man,
A dull head among windy spaces.

Signs are taken for wonders. "We would see a sign":
The word within a word, unable to speak a word,
Swaddled with darkness. In the juvescence of the year
Came Christ the tiger

In depraved May, dogwood and chestnut, flowering judas,
To be eaten, to be divided, to be drunk
Among whispers; by Mr. Silvero
With caressing hands, at Limoges
Who walked all night in the next room;
By Hakagawa, bowing among the Titians;
By Madame de Tornquist, in the dark room
Shifting the candles; Fräulein von Kulp
Who turned in the hall, one hand on the door. Vacant shuttles
Weave the wind. I have no ghosts,
An old man in a draughty house
Under a windy knob.

After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities. Think now
She gives when our attention is distracted
And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions
That the giving famishes the craving. Gives too late
What's not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only, reconsidered passion. Gives too soon
Into weak hands, what's thought can be dispensed with
Till the refusal propagates a fear. Think
Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices
Are fathered by our heroism. Virtues
Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes.
These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree.

The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours. Think at last
We have not reached conclusion, when I
Stiffen in a rented house. Think at last
I have not made this show purposelessly
And it is not by any concitation
Of the backward devils.
I would meet you upon this honestly.
I that was near your heart was removed therefrom
To lose beauty in terror, terror in inquisition.
I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it
Since what is kept must be adulterated?
I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch:
How should I use it for your closer contact?

These with a thousand small deliberations
Protract the profit of their chilled delirium,
Excite the membrane, when the sense has cooled,
With pungent sauces, multiply variety
In a wilderness of mirrors. What will the spider do,
Suspend its operations, will the weevil
Delay? De Bailhache, Fresca, Mrs. Cammel, whirled
Beyond the circuit of the shuddering Bear
In fractured atoms. Gull against the wind, in the windy straits
Of Belle Isle, or running on the Horn,
White feathers in the snow, the Gulf claims,
And an old man driven by the Trades
To a sleepy corner.

          Tenants of the house,
Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season.

Man of the Hour

by Eddie Vedder

Tidal waves don't beg forgiveness
Crashed and on their way
Father, he enjoyed collisions
Others walked away
A snowflake falls in May

And the doors are open now
As the bells are ringing out
For the man of the hour
Is taking his final bow
Good-bye for now

Nature has its own religion
Gospel from the land
Father ruled by long division
Young men, they pretend
Old men comprehend

And the sky breaks at dawn
Shedding light upon this town
They'll all come around
For the man of the hour
Is taking his final bow
Good-bye for now

And the road the old man paved
The broken seams along the way
The rusted signs left just for me
He was guiding me: love, his own way

Now the man of the hour
Is taking his final bow
As the curtain comes down
I feel that this is just good-bye for now

Somewhere Only We Know

by Tom Chaplin

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river, and it made me complete

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go somewhere only we know?