Tunesmith Retrofit (2006) - paroles

[kjp]

Crow's Nest

Come along to the riverside, sit down now
I just want to hear somebody else whine
If you're got tomorrow I've got a blade
We can dig a hole into an old book
Keep our secrets there.

I know of another place beneath some over grown vine
I can cut them back and help you down
There I'll listen to every song you know
I will clap when you are through
Maybe then I will kiss you.

I've been waiting a long time to get these stories out
Tell me yours and I will tell you mine
Spin them sideways, over ground
Tie a rope around my shoulder
Tend to aching in the morning.

Come along to the riverside, lay down now
We can hold or not say all at all
We'll jump out the crow's nest heave ashore
Wave the mighty skull and crossbones
Up that hill and back down.




The Anvil

There are some that blindly and happily plow
While the tractor screams "feed me some oil"
The scraping of gears and the gnashing of teeth
Fall softly on full ahead ears
A frown may give away something right
A smile can hide crooked affairs
Sun on the back rings a work man's guffaw

Call me tomorrow, come over here
See if we can figure this out
There in an eye winking curiously
By the camp ground, the bedside night stand
My leg bones feel weary yet walk on they will
Holding for wheels and gravy
On a plate full of nothing but shaking my head
With a side bowl of nothing to do.

Could be a time thing, could be a ruse
I will concede to confusion
Ideas spin `round my crazy old head
Hard as "and light as" an anvil
The liver will wither and wax with the tide
Fine, if I can find the answer
To a question I've never been asked before
I hear time and time again.




Spanish Hands

She's a gentle bell, she's a cat eye
A gold breath on a wire
A sing soft sail in the other room
A red hot cleaning fire
My cold feet warm in a straight line
Dancing spanish hands
My heart retires far early
Away these foreign lands.

She's a yellow girl, she's a sun flower
A thin wild well mind lead
A glass like sea for miles and miles
A book to love to read
Long haul rolling on the shadow side
Regardless where I stand
My heart retires far early
Away these foreign lands.

Mark these days that constant fade
That wilt among the wars
The big ones we all suffer from
The small ones, mine of yours
I'll throw no coin on grand design
I can not understand
My heart retires far early
Away these foreign lands.

Let kind words surround her mind
Gift her sorrow flight
Give the new eyed sleep of babes
Then let her softly rise
To see the morning brush the blinds
Behind no greater plan
My heart retires far early
Away these foreign lands.




Plumb Line

Let a windmill blow
I want to feel the wave beat hard against me
Let a windmill blow this dust out of my head.

Let a steeple ring
I want to hear a sound that's not me thinking
Let a steeple ring this dirt out of my bed.

Strap on, shake it for a hoedown
Beat down on a wooden drum
Laugh hard till hard is gone
And that old trouble run.

Let a baby yell
A simple thing like a nail in a driveway
Oh, let a baby yell this dust out of my head.

Give an old man grumble
And wave the tag and bag the coat back
Give an old man grumble, sweep the dark away.

Lay a high boot heel
Swing that skirt from knee to elbow
Lay a high boot heel, walk and walk away.

Strap on, shake it for a hoedown
Beat down on a wooden drum
Laugh hard till hard is gone
And that old trouble run.

Take a rail car whine
Tuck it down behind the silver
Take a rail car whine, a song as sure as I.




Scapegoat
(Instrumental)



Big Shaky

Ten steps weaving to the bottom, to the floor
I've taken eleven, broken the door
Twelve step, I don't want to think like that
I will change my coat, pull down my hat
And pray
And holler
Don't let it fade
Clear eyes and clean hands,
A good man.

Circle, go down delusion drive
Nine tail cross-eyed two foot slide
Spit the joy from joyous green
Find an old fence that I can lean against
And pray
And holler
Don't let it fade
Clear eyes and clean hands,
A good man.

Rocket ship ricochet off the wall
Short little guy in a great big fall
How long is too late to lock it right
So I can ease on in to an easy night
And pray
And holler
Don't let it fade
Clear eyes and clean hands
A good man.

Now there's a blue water in a shiny cup
I will drink it down, fill it up
Too much of losing would be here or gone
Need to comb my hair and walk up home
And pray
And holler
Don't let it fade
Clear eyes and clean hands,
A good man.



Tight to the Jar

It's a ditch, okay, I have shoes and a blanket
My head resting light on a stone
Though it's hard it's still rounded with a pocket for brains
Or what goes for in halls under roof tile
We'll sing another blistering ballad for grandma
Melody sweet till it rolls out the ear
And the beer flows free as advice
With a tight hand holding the jar.

The mud cakes my chin strap, fills up my cuffs
As I plod, now, from creek edge to street side
As it dries I can whittle it little by little
"Hey, look, now I'm light as a bee"
Those gray clouds mean nothing to one such as I
Though shadows stand tall as some school master whack
On the back of a well intentioned quiet kid
Arms held fast to the jar.

And it's slow, so slow the idea
The coming around of a sensible word
It hovers and shakes like a humming bird wing
At the end of a long hot year.

Fry up that supper, we'll kill it for breakfast
Turn the table down side and crazy
With the legs up, the woman up, the men up to church
For the spirit, the hen yard, the bent steel tack rap
It's a ditch, yeah, I know that, And, I do wonder
How that bright faced, ten year old me of a boy
Found the road out I never could see
With my eyes held tight to the jar.



MacDougal
(Instrumental)



Loud as Ears

Old dark ruby coats his throat
Gloves a feathered mind
Sharpens up her fountain pen
Lays ink down along the table
Plaintive, brick yard textbook line
Whips her fable down
As long as she is able.

Bang up, wave the weaver's wand
Hand against the sky
Day is rain so watch things grow
Light pours through her window
Tack will need a hefty breeze
Blow as though can be
As long as she is able.

Here's a loud that turns to wail
Salvage bits of wire
Holding history blown to hell
He'll nod off and she will sing
He won't dream while she won't sew
Talking never stops
Not as long as she is able.

The next day holds a smell to it
Permeates the house
Marches into each cold room
Stands as long as Sunday
Preaches loud as elder ears
Years they'll rectify
As long as they're able.



Red Light Nickel

Trails the no home leave behind them
"God bless you" signs on a street corner lamp post
Maybe a vet of his own alley way
An "ain't drunk yet wanna be" swallow song
Ain't drunk yet wanna be.

Bits of rubber hanging by a needle
Thread between childhood and where this is now
How does one wither or whittle down a tree
For blossoms that try to bear right circumstance
Blossoms that try to bear.

So, it's good out there, better than some
Folks keep trying to bring back that summer
That turned an unreturnable smile
Shoe string in the nether wind
Fish bite on a silver hook
Soft step in the stairwell that sounds like dad.

Hungry, it is, tired and old
30 or 80 years, ticket the same
The game stay's the right of the passing in time
Surrogate rhyme lingers tip o' the tongue
Surrogate rhyme lingers.

When I was young, my dreams flew in colours
Even did I as the sore ocean rumbled
Now my feet wander the length of new countries
Red light holding my vision to come
Green light holding my vision.



Handful of Arrows

Play again, oh
Tap on the board
I could use a song here, now
Word unheard, none ever burned
A room to set me in.

Sing again, oh
Throw another tale
Walking out across our ground
It's cold behind this cabin door
That high tone light it right.

Stomp down, oh
Show them your hands
Hit 'em with that old, steel gun
I believe that song will breathe
Underneath this cabin floor.

Sweet lullaby,
Somewhere ago
Daughter, the glory of the world
A single line of a tangled weave
From me to her to you.

Feel it, there
In every other hand
Every other John pole child
You know, You drew a tight bow string
And shot that arrow gone.



Tunesmith Retrofit
(Instrumental)