1. |
Pilgrim
05:40
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Pilgrim
… I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you,
I'd never a-drivin on by myself,
but now that we're here it's something else,
the sky uninvolved in all the smoke that's risin up
on either side.
Fireworks strewn along the shore,
rusted carcass embedded in the bank,
we skipped our stones through pools of light,
you and I invited here for nothing less than intersection
with the one.
And we drive so far
…And it's a dirty dirty highway with a golden skyline,
you smile through the windshield at the world goin by you,
seven wonders waitin on the beaches to be found by
we the acolytes, pilgrims to the sun.
She said if your magazine speaks of sun-beaten mesas,
and this reads like the bible to you,
there's a passenger seat in my wagon for you,
it's painted red and white, cuttin through a swath a light
on into the setting.
And if you believe in something else,
hung your hat out on some mountain top,
docked your hymnal, slipped out of your pew,
I'll tell you what to do - move.
And we drive so far
…And it's a dirty dirty highway with a golden skyline,
you smile through the windshield at the world goin by you,
seven wonders waitin on the beaches to be found by
we the acolytes, pilgrims to the sun.
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2. |
Pebbles
03:13
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Pebbles
…Busted, the light was wrong,
she stepped back against the wall,
a camera strap hung from her pretty white neck
though she missed her photograph she's never gonna forget,
see backlit spire cleave February sky,
profile of a dove one hungry eye
while in a pre dawn light on the hostel floor
she met his advances with a line of her own-
Saying when you're collecting pebbles beware the deceptive properties of water,
although I may have reversed it I mean we came wet from the womb in the first place
and it just so happens in this case my skin is flush from the ladle of excess.
Now flowers spill out of every lower window lip,
the curious arise dressed up as tourists,
waitress bears down on their table with a glare,
same story happening everywhere.
She whispers I need to move anywhere I can breath,
seems I'm smothering in humidity,
yes this air is so dense, rot with the past,
the ghosts I thought I'd left in Canada have followed me back.
Still when you're collecting pebbles beware the deceptive properties of water,
although I may have reversed it I mean we came wet from the womb in the first place
and it just so happens in this case my skin is flush from the ladle of excess.
She never sought justice never bled revenge,
just moves with the wind and bends instead,
her mantra I've risen over the weakest of men,
they can't crack my redemption it's malleable and wet-
Still when you're perusing my body there's an elaborate manual to follow,
a composite memory unravelled, remnants spooled from the soul of a child,
you lay your head to my belly there's an ocean a'roil inside me.
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3. |
Hollowpoint Heart
03:35
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Hollowpoint Heart
I miss you and I'll meld copper in your name.
Blend in my wine sweet umbra and alloy to taste.
Take out Venus with my 22 hollow-point, boom.
Pour slowly she said, hot burgundy burns me inside.
I said I'll pour out my eyes and write you a ghost song,
Venus with a hollow-point heart.
I miss you and I'll weld willows in your name.
Weave in below, blue tallow the candle in flame.
Take out Venus with my 22 hollow-point, boom.
Sew in navy she said, I hate when it tears me inside.
I said I'll string up my beard, play you an old song,
Venus with a hollow-point heart.
Drink your sleep and dream, tell me in the morning how to move,
I'll be waiting in my chair, gun cleaned and across my lap…
Who calls across the lake in the grey and bled dawn?
Far out on the water, the cry of an old song,
Venus with a hollow-point heart.
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4. |
Thrasher 3:7
03:29
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Thrasher 3:7
words by r.c. clark
I lost you beneath the trees,
your eyes missin mine for several days,
this it turns out is the strongest gaze,
I've been able to understand, able to take.
I lost you beneath the sea,
our breath is taken in several ways,
this it turns out is the longest day
I've ever been able to take.
And I lost you on so many more levels,
same old thing it's just a shift just a phase,
all the old ways trotted out on a parade
that lasts for one hundred days.
I lost you in a burnin sun,
I was blinded by the brightest of rays,
this it turns out is the deepest space
I've ever been able to brave.
So I left you in mid-stream,
clean cut with the dullest of blades,
this it turns out is the only way
I've ever been able to create.
And I lost you on so many more levels,
same old thing it's just a shift just a phase,
all the old ways trotted out on a parade
that lasts for one hundred days.
I lost you in thin air,
a country mile could not persuade,
my feet to move in any other way,
nothing more am I able to say. 3:7
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5. |
Stettler
01:36
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Stettler
For Big Daddy Mac
oooo
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6. |
Helicopter
05:36
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Helicopter
There's a lotta water here,
runnin down the drain,
low in my back where I keep all that worries me
I can feel the strain.
Helicopters ferrying,
bodies and logs away,
I was taught by a hidden camera
all I saw was okay.
In the meantime I'm lingering
in the young sounds on a summer day,
meagre remains of milk and honey now,
if they could they'd all fly away.
Digital tundra underfoot
they can't close they're eyes
lest they lose sight of pictures meant to blind
so they close they're minds
and ride the big top jungle beats
let them carry you away
on a swirl of neon strands of happiness
through the darkness of another day.
In the meantime I'm lingering
in the young sounds on a summer day,
meagre remains of milk and honey now,
if they could they'd all fly away.
Madeline and a motorbike,
it'd seem to be all I need
to leave the trucks of the circus behind
even then the choppers need to feed
In the meantime I'm lingering
here on a bus hound grey,
and when the nun leaves the Citroën
the blue girl’s hat blows away.
Everything moves in circles now
even as it runs down the drain,
except maybe light and the distance between
the things that blow away.
Helicopters they never see,
what becomes of the sun
on the face of Madeline in evening,
loveliness da Vinci.
In the meantime I'm lingering
in the young sounds on a summer day,
meagre remains of milk and honey now,
if they could they'd all fly away.
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7. |
Tom
02:43
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Tom
I would bet a million breaths
that I won't be here long
the water's boilin in the pot
I take my remedies strong
all along the butterfly whispers
mounted to a maddening roar
short the life that capitulates
to the reckoning of the song
-Later tom
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8. |
Rosemary Home
01:17
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Rosemary Home
Grass like violins leave me glad to be alone,
strands drawn yellow shimmer in sound
slender as shafts of light dry blown in tone
yet I only hear the scrape of bow
Foxes though in red hollows
hear airs pitched in limber brome
where bluestem fed buffalo bled lava tarantella
awhile meadowlark chanticleer,
I listening strained hear twitter and shuffle of score
shiver of gut on steel and glass
always glass
tap and sound yet toneless nearly as sand,
An antelope though in one low run
hears every note glow
she, too, glad to be alone in tone.
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9. |
South Country Fair
05:48
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South Country Fair
I think I'll go down to the South Country Fair
Sunday morning I'll ride out into the desert
seeking the truth about you.
I'll sit by a river chanting your name
burn you a candle, wait for rain
the moon full in my stomach
haven't eaten for days
keep shakin my head
to get your eyes from my face.
Three horses above
silhouettes on the rise
could drag me away
the same look in their eyes
they’re seeking the truth about you
You once lit up a fire with bullets from your gun
you could light me on fire and I'd still be the one…
seeking the truth about you.
& If I die alone on the sage
you'll find my jawbone a twistin a smile from my face
speaking the truth about you
if you follow me you'll find
I've gone to watch the pelicans swim
in the reservoir mid the alfalfa blooms
mottled blue in the summer sun
there on my side
and in the eventide
when you've crossed the yellow bridge
we'll drink to our happiness,
all the antelope stand silent by
Still if you're down to the SCF
remember the cards lie on the table
and the lights spell in the air.
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10. |
Damascus
03:30
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Damascus
words by r.c. clark
On a pale afternoon, one morning I fell to my knees on a paved and rutted road I fell upon my prayers and asked the lord next to me
I said what does he need tell me what could be free right now my friend I'm feelin down on my knees beggin for a little pity on please, don't steal me away.
If you let me get rich it's magic turned grey get up off a my knees and sit in the chair that he made for me beggin please one more time what can I do when can my name be given to crime.
I said what does he need tell me what could be free right now my friend I'm feelin down on my knees beggin for a little pity on please, don't steal me away.
The wind is cuttin, cutting me in two, the east wails the blues, some songs are said to be right, -alright mama gonna let me be?
Back on my knees from whence I came ten thousand paces to this place and stand in front of you, on a pale afternoon I fell flat to my face and kissed the winding road.
I'm a crooked man with a crooked old plan, mister the sun will blister you, mister I'm just beggin on please, don't steal me away.
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11. |
Alberta
09:45
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Alberta
Alberta…
Wide the road, paved with gold,
easy the path the wind at my back,
wide the road paved with black gold,
easy the drive the sun warm on my side,
when a young Monty Roberts swapped boots with James Dean
no towers met the wind east of Pincher Creek,
but when I slipped that curve and saw those great blades awhirl
I sang here's home
Alberta…Where ya been for so long…ya could a been so strong…
Me and the Ripper in a mint green ford
head to Edmonton in the blowin snow,
and when we return, bundled in between,
a nylon string guitar innocent and clean,
when the old truck starts to sputter and cough
he turns to me “fella should a taken the car”,
we grin into the blizzard roll 'er over & back onto the road
Alberta…where ya been for so long…
The tribe a folks that burn me most
are the ones that draw oil like it's what they've been owed,
at the end of the day they drop from bankers hall
mount up their jets and wave goodbye ya’ll,
off to San Antone or the Grand Cayman,
reminds me of the kid who took the ball and ran,
treason is a word once reserved for the slippin out kind
Alberta…
No matter what I do I can't seem to move
my mind from the lake floodin the Kootenay Plains,
easy to say if the Lord dropped by
we'd set out from there in a diagonal line
across the heartland into the triangle of fate
where for once in our lives we made the shy side of late
and coming to our senses saved a plain that was headed to the sea
Alberta…
East of Eden is a land desolate and cold
so the book tells me so I've been told,
how it came to be that way is a little vague,
yet you don't have to travel far to catch the replay,
when you flood your holy groves turn your mountains into steam,
drive off the birthright blessing with a half ton a mint green,
even the most innocent guitars play songs of remorse when they come home…
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12. |
Summer
04:06
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Summer
Words by rc clark
Runnin through the fields
don’t pay much attention to the farmer and his wife
Drivin down the road,
sound of gravel spitting up and leaving dust behind the tires
I got a song spinning round
The sound of singing angels in my head
As the summer comes I remember her on the forty, she’s runnin naked
As the winter goes I look forward to the darkness
It’s sacred
Passing farmyards
Such distinction in the dogs that chase our bumpers
Gettin caught
Gettin Caught would be reward for the two should out in the hayfield
I got a song spinning round
The sound of singing angels in my head
As the summer comes I remember her on the forty, she’s runnin naked
As the winter goes I look forward to the darkness
It’s sacred
Gimme summer cause I love her
With my fingers I will count the million ways
The summer comes and goes, she’s painted all her pretty little toes
I can forget my clothes as I caress this blessed summer
Ooo
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13. |
Ravenna
03:42
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Ravenna
Lastly, I trundle off to my pillow
night sky a stones throw from my mat,
I work on raisin' your image up to my minds eye
thinking it'd be nice to drift off with you in my sight.
A satellite is what I'd be if I circled round now,
a shooting star if I plummeted to burn at your feet,
instead I'm a red tailed hawk ridin' lift in the afternoon,
whether I descend is a matter of diminishing winds.
Still there's no reason to believe I'll be home soon,
I rise to a bell that beckons in a foreign tongue,
the women of Ravenna pray in dim lit rooms
as do you my long suffering one.
"I, too, have been in Ravenna
it is a little dead city that has churches and a good many ruins,"
not my words but the poet who calls out from my pack
my shoulders are sore from the weight of his words on my back.
You wrote in your electronic mail that I should come home now,
as the candle you've left in the window has sputtered and died,
and in the event that I'm gone longer than six months,
you cannot guarantee a lock'll remain on your love.
Still there's no reason to believe I'll be home soon,
I rise to a bell that beckons in a foreign tongue,
the women of Ravenna pray in dim lit rooms
as do you my long suffering one.
Lastly, I pray for your safety,
it is a sentiment culled from a flowered and passionate past,
as for now I lie alone wide open to the night winds,
the most I can afford a drifters benediction - Amen.
(Poet - Hesse)
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Roger Dean Young & the Tin Sea Victoria, British Columbia
Roger Dean Young is a singer-songwriter sprung from the foothills of Alberta and deposited on the West Coast of British Columbia.
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