What's in a name?

Untitled (Song 4)

I'm holding it against you

Because I got a good view

Of her stuck to you like glue

The two of you all tangled

Though it was just a bad dream

Saw your dark eyes all agleam

It just made me want to scream

Mark your body, make you cry

In dawn's light you seem so fake

And I just can't seem to make

Myself put on the brakes

To stop this from unfolding

Chorus:

Sometimes bad dreams do come true

Best left sleeping, these dogs that lie

They steal into daytime and pursue

Peace of mind gone by and by

No I can't avoid this fight

Brewing since we said good night

Not fair but it sure feels right

To wake you up to a war

Later sitting in a chair

You look serious and spare

Hungry and a little scared

Looking for some kind of truce

Just my imagination

You two a crazy fiction

But if so why the notion

That you seem all too contrite?

(Chorus x 2)

Daily Write: Wild at Heart

He's staring out the window again, and always looks so miserable like this. His whole body is sunken into a dejected slump, eyes open but not alert, sighing slightly with each breath out. He's staring out at the world out there, just waking up: the rough-barked tree trunks, the sparse shoreline bushes with leaves fluttering in the light breeze, the birds hopping from branch to branch, the chipmunks racing for cover between rocks and roots. The rain has picked up, and is pouring down relentlessly again, straight down and heavy. And with everything wet and it too early for adventures (according to me, because I haven't had enough coffee yet, nor gotten dressed), he's relegated to staring, and sighing, wishing that he could be wild and free, out there chasing chipmunks and breathing it all in, his snout pushed into the dark moist earth.

Finding Grace

Another "rough draft" of a song here, this one entitled "Finding Grace." Need to work out a chorus, or at least some sort of repeatable refrain, which I'll think about this weekend. Meanwhile, the verses are pretty far along. 

The other two songs I've posted here have been getting worked on too; a friend took the lyrics and worked out chords and melodies for them. We actually even (very amateurishly) recorded them, so that I could hear his ideas for the songs, and think about them, and make adjustments to lyrics, etc.. When we work out what we really want for each of them, we'll do a better job with the recordings. It's all quite fun, and challenging, and... well, we're just living out a classic musician's fantasy, I suppose. Good stuff.

Anyway, here's the new one:

Finding Grace

Middle of night at an Ohio truck stop

Just spent my last dollar on coffee and smokes

Fluorescent lights buzz above in the ceiling

On us tired and threadbare traveling folks

Paid one-way bus fare, bound for the seacoast

Not sure where I'm going or where this might end

Just know that I'm headed straight for the city

Lose my old self there -- start over again

Grace she is waiting, out there where the sunrise

First lights up the buildings all tall brick and steel

Wrapped in her robe by a small kitchen window

Drowsy and tousled, her dreams just concealed

Sun glints on the blue harbor water in morning

Markets burst open to the barking of men

Feet pounding concrete, all quick and determined

Trains rumble deep, through her heart and her veins

I am awake now, the wind blowing briskly

Here in the park looking out at the bridge

Grace she is out there, I know that I'll find her

In everything 'round me her tender image

The Widower

Well, this songwriting thing seems to be up my alley... or at least, it's feeling fun to do, and so I'm doing it quite a bit! I've got a couple of others in bits and pieces, and one more complete "first draft," called The Widower. It seems, by reading it back, to be a bluegrass tune, perhaps...

The Widower

Thought I saw you standing there

Out the corner of my eye

Though you left 10 years ago

And without a sweet goodbye

Left here to live alone when

Years ago you disappeared

Wake crying ev'ry morning

You still gone as I had feared

Your brothers laid your ghost to rest

On the hill by the sugaring tree

Spitting cold rain that late Fall day

The day you were set free

I confessed in voice so low

While to me your ear you lent

All the things I wrote to you

In those letters never sent

Can't go on without you here

So keep you in dreams I must

Spectral bride to warm my bed

That of death I do not lust

Your brothers laid your ghost to rest

On the hill by the sugaring tree

Spitting cold rain that late Fall day

The day you were set free

Dry Creek Valley

I've wanted to try my hand at writing song lyrics for a while now, but without the ability to put them to music, I lacked the proper motivation. No band to play the songs... so... no songs.

Recently, a friend suggested that he and some friends, musicians who play covers and fiddle around quite a bit, have long wanted to try to create some full-fledged original material. Lacking a lyricist, they somehow never really got going. With this obvious synergy, I decided to finally go for it... try writing some song lyrics.

Until we try to put them to music, I'm not sure whether they're really workable. I did try my best to pay attention to things that would, or wouldn't, lend themselves to being sung, and being backed by a structure of chords and melody, but... well... who knows? Anyway, I'm sure this song is going to change and evolve as attempts are made to put it to a tune, but here it is in its first draft form:

Dry Creek Valley

Let's go, I said, let's get out of the city,

So we headed out 'cross the Golden Gate,

To Dry Creek Valley, up North in sunshine,

Whipping 'round curves, flying along straights.

Dirt road stones popped under the tires,

Like rough-hewn bullets sharply ricocheted,

Beam of light caught the ring on your finger,

No words spoken, everything conveyed.

I just hadn't told you yet,

But I knew that I'd be leaving,

Drinking ruby Dry Creek Valley wine,

It wasn't the time for grieving.

River running full this rainy time of year,

We perched on rocks above rushing waters,

Steelhead silver scales pushing hard upstream,

You spoke of someday sons and daughters.

Flecks of gold in your eyes, you rambled along,

Head in my lap after we'd broken bread,

Talk of the future, all your big ideas,

Sunk swift to rest on the river bed.

I just hadn't told you yet,

But I knew that I'd be leaving,

Drinking ruby Dry Creek Valley wine,

It wasn't the time for grieving.