Tuesday, October 06, 2015

three songs




BABY, I’M FEELING IT NOW


I drove the Stagecoach, the 55 to Calne
But I lost my way one evening and bounced it off a barn
A lady in the back she said I was asleep
And the Stagecoach inspectors agreed.
Well nobody died
They mostly just cried
But baby I’m feeling it now.

If I could meet my sister then I would say to her
“I wanted to come with you out to Australia
Where I could ride horses, take the boys to the sea,
Get to know my own family.”
I can’t really say
It would’ve turned out that way
But baby I’m feeling it now.

If I could make a pile, like those I lost before
Then I would buy a bottle and drink it by the shore
In the Palace of Fortune I’d stand there all day
And I’d watch my money dribble away
And I sit in a taxi to the far side of town
And I’d burn that barn to the ground.
What other people feel
Never seems real
But baby I’m feeling it now.






CLOUD


Cloud
So still and perfect  in the sky
Yet in the twinkling of an eye
All changed…
Cloud
If I ever wanted inspiration you would be the first thing on my mind.
Cloud
When I think of you I got to feel proud
I knew you


Cloud
When sunset turns the sky to rose
It’s only minutes till the close
I know…
Cloud
If you knew that you were leaving then you might have found a way to say goodbye.
Cloud
That crazy evening when I was allowed
To love you
Cloud


Cloud
I wonder if somebody new
Will one day get closer to you
Than I could…
Cloud
Something lifts the air and messes it around until the shapes you knew are gone
Cloud
And us reduced to strangers in the crowd-
ed city...





LAY ALL YOUR CARDS ON THE TABLE


Barefoot girl runs with a windmill
Mother sailing on behind
One bird sings across the valley
One sings from the other side.
The line of mountains to the sky

Big-boned horse lets out a snicker
Standing in a hill of grass
Children playing by the river
Stop to watch a stranger pass
It’s just the same it always was

And when the breeze
Rustles the leaves
And the evening shadows draw in
You’d better lay all your cards on the table,
Or nothing can ever begin.

Timber-truck upon the high road
Rattling empty to the wood
Engineers out on the forecourt
With their trays of takeout food
And who am I to intrude?

Church-bells echo from the tower
Poking up among the pines
And the churchyard’s full of flowers
And the church it looks so fine
As white as snow in wintertime.

And when the breeze
Rustles the leaves
And the evening shadows draw in
You’d better lay all your cards on the table,
Or throw all your hopes to the wind.

Labels:

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

Powered by Blogger

Nature Blog Network