Johnny Cash stepped to the front of the stage and looked out into the smoke and haze, wiped a tear from his eye and said, “this first song goes out to a man in the back. Folks don’t know his name, but they told me last night that his Mother died. They say he’s a little stunned about what happened in the past, about what caused all the pain that wasn’t supposed to last, but, if you will all stop to think about what she did, why she did it, why things couldn’t be different, well, maybe you’ll see a little of her in both you and me.”
There’s no use crying now, grandma had to say, you’ve got your life ahead of you now. But before I was old enough to know her, grandma was gone just like mother before her,
The way was set down for me to follow in the moon’s spotlight, shifting my gaze waiting through days escaping the daylight, dancing through the willows, creeping through hollows, swallowing inspiration from the dark of night.
As long as i recall growing up, there were traces of the moments grandma left behind, and though i can never recall mother’s face in my mind
I can hear her tell me, “no matter how long it seems that I am gone i will never leave you behind. Once days have passed and you are getting older you’ll no where i have gone.”
Steady I watch from afar, racked with guilt and pain, in the shadows I’ve left behind, the woman who replaced the comfort of a womb with an ice cold virgin stare.
No matter how hard I tried to please you, you just gave me religion, and brotherhood too, with brothers made for squeezin’ and making life blue.
I live life as a stranger, the one who is always in some sort of danger from folks pointing their fingers needing a symbol to blame all there troubles on.
But sometimes I take a while to linger with those who take the time to take me in, with heartfelt intention on these wooden floors through the swinging doors
Belly up some peace, lay it up at last, fling away the extra baggage to the bottom of the glass. We”ll pull on our boots and stomp on all this misery.
Lock up the Farm (redone)
Money for charms, money for lust, money for hope, love aint enough, you took your blessing and threw it out the door. One takes a hand and returns it with nothing, power is taking from those who were something, Took it for freedom, an illusion bought and dropped to the floor
Sweet blessed time
You brought me to my knees
Hide and seek in shadows.
Rocks at swallows in the trees
Life flows past through steep pits and hollow groves
wind blows past in weak fits and power blows
one step climbs the ladder, one step toward the door
sweet blessed time
You brought me to my knees
hide and seek in shadows.
rocks at swallows in the trees
‘Hope is all I’ve become
to break hearts and spit on the little
Sell them choices, play their dreams
Even though I can tell you it’s pointless
Still you all worship me’
Break that, spit on his light, shake him free, though he is the spectacle you’ve always wanted he ain’t what he seems. Look at him staring at you as he crumbles in your eyes a magnificent diamond, hard and mean
You’ve stepped away. stepped away from what is real, and sooner or later the crowd will recognize you, and you will lose that magic feel
You’ve tapped into the universe, it isn’t cute, it’s very real. Now, what is it you are doing with that energy? Are you using it to bring others together so they can produce for themselves, or are you bringing them together so they can produce for you?
you, you know who you are, you are the bat on the stage with the beam in his eye. you hide in the darkness, even on the stage, away from the light, hoping you’ll never be seen.
you have your talismans, you have your wheel, right on your microphone pointing at you, as though you think you are not worthy to receive magic, worthy to be just you.
Scratch lyrics from Roaming Snyder (by Elvis Angel)
open road, my cart, steeds in front of me. i lift my hand but no one sees, the dark is filled with smoke and hollowed trees
hologram breathes fire, looks like god but we know he’s mean, like no one we’ve ever seen.
light my pyre, with two hands dripping clean, brazed by fire, soaked in gasoline, when the match is struck we’ll all join the band.
Lay yourself low, best not to be seen by the others looking for you, by others looking for me – they pull you with the familiar voice of infinity.
Open Road, two hands on the reins. rats in the grass, wild tails and manes. A little girl points toward the sky…
this time we will surely die
Mind in the energy jumping from molecule to molecule, spiraling around the stalks of bones and reaching toward the sky. There is an operating apparatus in my skull, and I awaken in a factory after i have been harvested and given physical therapy to develop my anatomical structure so that it will be ready for its experience. I come packaged with intent and motivation. (My warranty will guarantee your return of me in the future because of the faulty motivation module.) I am most suited for creative tasks and slaphappy companionship, and am not licensed for any causes, political or social. Register to prequalify to purchase me. Must have outstanding social record, including no arrests, warrants or liens, and have impeccable financial credentials.
Written in Romy’s 50th year.
“Memories bleed through the day that i see as I turn in shallows wandering, and the steps are getting sleepier through the haunting, as i wake and fade and i look to blood for affection.”