1. |
Nothing Is Too Good
04:45
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2. |
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Verse 1:
I watch you walk your hundred steps or so
down the alley down the way
your green over sweater-whatever it's called
hides the hints of grey
I think I'm falling
Every cliche clearly taking hold
What the hell's going on?
The frenchman's song tells me 'bout my mind,
he's says it's blown and your incredible
You're incredible
Chorus:
And then I see his arm
wrap around you
And then I know, this honor's not mine
But then I see, his heart
is not wrapped around you
So then a part of me, allows mine.
Verse 2:
The privilege of the small of your back
Is extended to my hand
Your skirt kisses the floor as it twirls
with the rhythm of the band
I love us dancing
Let your tears fill your empty cup of tea
As you talk of broken dreams
Your soul, your heart, your finger all are still bare
After all was not as it seemed
I want to run hard after you
Chorus:
And then I see you heart
filled with anger
Wanting to break him for you broken dreams
And then I see my heart
filled with longing
Wanting to give you all those dreams.
Verse 3:
I see you scared sitting on that bed
your future so unknown.
Our distance closing with these writings sent
but my heart is still not shown.
I so enjoy you.
I still don't know, I still don't know, I don't,
I can't--not right now at least
But I trust Him in these musings--
in this salvation--where I find rest.
I find my rest
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3. |
My Cali Girl?
04:20
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My Cali Girl?
Oh, God, I knew it!!
Right when I stopped seeking
is right when I would find
the right one!
I mean, the right one? Because I don’t know . . .
First inductee into the club of my infatuation
So many years ago, but only for a time.
Shot down once, so I moved right along,
Losing closeness day by day, week by week, month by month
Class by class
But now you’re back-
But I thought you left!
Off to see the real sunset and the real ocean,
And the real you; but nonetheless.
Strange occurrences accompany this new reacquaintance:
Images of rings and white
and things so right
flood my conscious mind;
Images of laying and lying
And praying and dying
For You:
A face horizontal caressed by
sunlight slits through bedroom blinds
days, years after a honeymoon shared.
Counting wrinkles day by day
And counting sheep night by night
Beside you.
But the night is dark and hard to see
Are you the face that will set me free?
I strain my eyes, while confusion sets in,
And now you’re coming back, away from real sunsets, and real oceans,
The real you - Is it a sign?
Oh God, I don’t know it!
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4. |
Do I?
02:48
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Just because I’m joined to One above
does this mean I am in want of desire for
one below,
one beneath,
one under?
Do I not dream of the same as you?
A joyful consummation at the end of the day
of rising and falling
rising and falling?
Of breaths and sighs
of whimpers and cries
and half taken breaths whispered in my ear
under the weight of knowing,
knowing
that which was good before we Fell,
before we fell away from Him-
fell away from one another.
Let me fall back into Him, into you:
fall for you as I rise into Thy love
and thine
and mine.
Restored -
a picture thereof as my soul is known
and I know this union once more.
So can I want? Can I dream?
Can I read the words of wisdom old
and long for your fingers to drip with myrrh
as I reach into your garden latch
and seek the rose I long to taste?
May I?
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5. |
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Crumpled bed sheets, crumpled life
Crumpled woman upon the floor
Another night, another fight
Her son standing at her door
Numb and tingling all at the same moment.
Sobs and sucks of a snot stuffed nose
Invite the child inside . . .
To hold her, to love her, when no one else does.
He can’t even look at her when she cries.
The tears of mama are salt in the wound
of his seven or so years of life.
The smell of her Revlon-colored hair
Recalls the essence of the source of her pain:
Quote “marriage” to this weak quote “man”
Takes happiness from her grasp
The half-cocked smile of this half-cocked man
Turns the knife . . .
ever so slightly. . .
What comes to mind upon first entrance
of his face into my thoughts?
A reed swaying in the breeze
Dead chaff moving with the forces around it
Weakness, passivity, and pissed-off pessimism
Define that which I called “daddy” and what she calls “pain.”
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6. |
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hours upon hours
dollars upon dollars
staring at brightened displays of cheapened ecstasy
at the expense of a child, a daughter, of the one true God.
chorus:
who will deliver me?
from this body of death?
that aches and groans
for redemption?
doubt upon doubt
pedestal on pedestal
where everyone else is but You my God
manipulate and lie, they pull me up, my security therein
chorus
the darkest of the dark
the chiefest of the chief
my spirit’s so willing
but my flesh is so damn weak
i covet a stage
that’s Yours to give
sacrifices offerred
my will appeased
oh Love Divine
reside herein
teach me repentance
and what it means to You
my one hope
i have and trust
is that You are more good
than i am not
You are
Ending:
You will deliver me,
from this body of death.
that aches and groans
for you to come.
You will deliver me;
from this body of death.
that aches and groans
for redemption.
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7. |
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(Selection from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock)
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
.....
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
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8. |
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Boy meets girl, girl meets boy;
Boy likes girl, girl likes boy.
But girl likes boy, more than boyfriend.
Girl leaves boyfriend, but time must past
before can bloom, budding romance.
Months ensue of “wait we’re too close” --
or maybe, not close enough.
Girl calls boy, Christmas Eve.
Girl tells boy, feelings are gone.
He doesn’t know what to do, so he
fights . . .
for almost a year and a half he
fights . . .
and pursues her and praises and prays as he pushes her
to him . . .
and lies and manipulates blindfully pridefully placing her
on pedestals
to fulfill and affirm and make . . .
secure.
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