Songs in red and gray

Penitent

Once I stood alone so proud
held myself above the crowd
now i am low on the ground.

From here i look around to see
what avenues belong to me
I can't tell what ive found.

Now what would You have me do
i ask you please?
I wait to hear.

The mother, and the matador,
the mystic, all were here before,
like me, to stare You down.

You appear without a face,
disappear, but leave your trace,
i feel your unseen frown.

Now what would you have me do
I ask you please?
i wait to hear
your voice,
the word,
you say.
i wait to see your sign
would i
obey?

I look for you in heathered moor,
the desert, and the ocean floor
how low does one heart go.

looking for your fingerprints
i find them in coincidence,
and make my faith to grow.

Forgive me all my blindnesses
my weakness and unkindnesses
as yet unbending still.

struggling so hard to see
my fist against eternity
and will you break my will?

Now what would you have me do
i ask you please?
i wait to hear
your voice,
the word
you say
i wait
to see your sign
could i
obey?

Widow's walk

Consider me a widow, boys
and I will tell you why.
It's not the man, but it's the marriage
that was drowned.

So I walk the walk
and wait with watchful eye out to the sky,
Looking for a kind of vessel
I have never found.

Though I saw it splinter
I keep looking out to sea,
Like a dog with little sense,
I keep returning,

To the very area where
I did see the thing go down
as if there's something at the site
I should be learning.

That line is the horizon.
We watch the wind and set the sail,
but save ourselves when all omens
point to fail.

If I tell the truth
then I will have to tell you this
Though I grieve (and I believe
i feel it truly)

But I knew that ship was empty
by the time it hit the rocks,
we could not hold on
when fate became unruly.

So consider me a widow, boys,
and I have told you why.
Does the weather say
a better day is nearing?

I'll set my house in order now
and wait upon the Will
It's clear that I need
better skill in steering...

That line is the horizon.
We watch the wind and set the sail,
But save ourselves when all omens
point to fail.

(I'll never be) your Maggie May

I'll never be your Maggie May
the one you loved and left behind
the face you see in light of day
and then you cast away
that isn't me in that bed you'll find

I'd rather take myself away
be like those ladies in Japan
rather paint myself a face
conjure up some grace
or be the eyes behind a fan

And so you go
no girl could say no
to you

There's the way we may appear
but that will change from day to night
would you ever see within?
underneath the skin?
could I believe you had that sight?

And so you go
no girl could say no
to you

I'll never be your Maggie May
the one you loved and then forgot
I'll love you first and let you go
because it must be so
and you'll forgive or you will not

And so a woman leaves a man
and so a world turns on it's end
so I'll see your face in dreams
where nothing's what it seems
you still appear some kind of friend

And so you go
no girl could say no
to you

It makes me wonder

The virgin mary on a chain
has hit me in the mouth again
as we explore the carnal score
of sacred and profane

Sulky boy won't drink his milk
mothers breast beneath the silk
remains untouched it's way too much
reject all of that ilk

I have to say it makes me wonder
if you are holding me
to the same blue flame that you are under
i feel you scolding me

Your virgin mary's in the way
hallucinate her face by day
obscure the view in front of you
it's me here made of clay

You're playing near that line so thin,
austerity? or just give in
to endless appetite,
embrace that white oblivion?

I have to say it makes me wonder
if you are holding me
to the same blue flame that you are under
i feel you scolding me

And why so high the expectation?
who could live up to this?
well, there's no time now for explanation
cold as an angel's kiss

I have to say it makes me wonder
if you were holding me
to that cold blue flame that you are under
when you were holding me

Soap and Water

Soap and water
take the day from my hand
scrub the salt from my stinging skin
slip me loose of this wedding band

Soap and water
hang my heart on the line
scour it down in a wind of sand
bleach it clean to a vinegar shine

Daddy's a dark riddle
Mama's a headful of bees
you are my little kite
carried away in the wayward breeze

Soap and water
wash the year from my life
straighten all that we trampled and tore
heal the cut we call husband and wife

Daddy's a dark riddle
Mama's a handful of thorns
you are my little kite
caught up again in the household storms

Daddy's a dark riddle
Mama's a headful of bees
you are my little kite
carried away in the wayward breeze

Song in Red and Gray

The reproach in your daughter's most beautiful face
made me wonder just how she could know
of that something that happened between you and me
so much more than a long time ago

Her mother, I can see, lives within her still
cause she looked at me with her eyes
though I had only just met her right then
I feel that she peeled back my guilty disguise

Did i break the thread, or did you break the thread?
well at this point we could ask who cares
as for the promises broken and frayed
it's 19 years late for repairs

The grey pewter vase held the deep red rose,
one piece of coral shone white,
by the brass candlestick near your red velvet coat,
is everything I can recall of one night

Will you please tell me why I remember these things
after all of this time, I don't know
i must have left all those feelings inside
cause that year I had no courage to show

Was i the name you could never pronounce?
or did i even figure at all?
all of this happened before she was born
did i shadow her young pencil marks on the wall

Still i am sure i was only but one
of a number who darkened that door
of your home and your hearth and your family and wife
who'd been darkened so often before

Oh, the red leaf looks to the hard gray stone
to each other, they know what they mean
somewhere, their future is still yet to come
in ways that are yet as of now unforeseen

Last year's troubles

Last year's troubles are so old fashioned
the robber on the highway the pirate on the seas
maybe it's the clothing that's so entertaining
the earrings and swashbuckling blouses that please

here we have heroes of times that have passed now
but nobody these days has that kind of chin
over there the petticoats of ladies of virtue
you can hardly tell them from the petticoats of sin

last year's troubles

look at all the waifs of Dickensian England
why is it their suffering is more picturesque?
must be cause their rags are so very Victorian
the ones here at home just don't give it their best

last years troubles they shine up so pretty
they gleam with a luster they don't have today
here it's just dirty and violent and troubling

last year's troubles

but trouble is still trouble and evil still evil
sometimes we wonder; is there more now, or less?
if we had a tool or could tally the handfuls
measure for measure it's the same would be my guess

Priscilla

She'd come to my house
and dance in the hall
with the music up loud
against the light on the wall

I danced beside her
feeling no shame
we were in costume
and this was a game

She'd put on her skirt
of layers of chiffon
the top of the umbrella had come off
so I put that on

We'd dance together then
an awkward ballet
she was 20 years older than I was
but still we did play

She was 20 years older than me
and many times my size
but it's her little feet I remember
and the look in her eyes

Once when I saw her
she made me a doll
of ribbon and paper and ink
and lace, I recall

I danced beside her
feeling no shame
we were in costume
and this was a game

I think of her now I'm older
I still love to dance
something will shine through the body
if you give it a chance

If i were a weapon

If I were a weapon
you said I'd be a gun
lethal at close range i guess
with silencer and stun

but I feel more like a needle
always pulling on the thread
always making the same point again
and wondering if you heard what I just said

if you were a weapon
a hammer's what you'd be
blunt and heavy at the end
and coming down on me

but i've concealed a weapon
in a pocket knife attack
all folded up inside until you see the shine
and then you'll want it back

oooh
if I were a weapon
you said i'd be a gun
lethal at close range I guess
w silencer and stun

well, if I am that weapon
I am pointing now at you
so just put down the hostage and we'll
talk it down until we see this through

Harbor song

i dreamed you were a rich man
and that i had no place to go
i came to you to see if you would take me in
through golden curtains you told me you'd let me know.

well, you drink for ten and you smoke for twenty
and your fickle heart will never be true
but still i feel the wind in from the harbor
thats when i know the longing for you
when i know the old longing for you.

i saw you in my mind's eye
you were laid out on your final day
i stood in line to see that handsome face once more
it had been so dear to me, and i kissed you as you lay
you were so dear, i kissed you as you lay.

now, whenever i do travel
if to portugal, england, or spain
as i do walk by the shipyards and the harbors
i smell the salt, and the bay rum of your ghost again
i know the salt, and the bay rum, you beside me again.

Machine ballerina

Am I an afternoon's pastime?
a thing on a string
to be thrown and retrieved
like a phone call received
on somebody's birthday
to tease and delight
and then say goodnight
and then just say goodbye?

Am I a toy on a tray ?
a soft piece of clay
queen or clown for the day
machine ballerina
soldier of tin
standing so loyal
while you sit so royal
then I'm put away?

For your approval,
perusal,
and your possible
refusal,
I'm amusing,
I'm a puppet for your play.

Am I your Mad Magazine?
skin trampoline
pin-up pinball machine
your fantasy girl
of puzzling parts
but none fits or starts
we match wits but not hearts
I'm heard but never seen?

For your approval,
perusal,
and your possible
refusal,
I'm amusing,
I'm a puppet for your play.

Solitaire

Black on the red and the red on the black.
It's a tic of a tired mind.
Come and sit down, won't you try your luck.
See if you unwind.

Never use your threes and twos.
Follow superstition.
Otherwise you are going to lose.
Compulsion makes you listen.

Take what's wrong, and make it go right.
Weave it like a prayer.
Wonder if you you'll spend the night?
Playing solitaire?

Do it again, when you find you're all done.
Like an idiot savant.
Shuffle up your luck. You see, you almost won.
Now wrestle down what you want.

Jack on the Queen, and the ten on the Jack.
It's a happy repetition.
You and your fate in a kind of check-mate.
And you are your only competition.

Take what's wrong, and make it go right.
Weave it like a prayer.
Wonder if you you'll spend the night?
Playing solitaire?

St. Clare

call on that saint
and the candle that burns
keeping her safe
until her return

plaster and paint
holding the fire
a poor woman's saint
holding all man's desire

bold little bird
fly away home
could I but ride herd
on the wind and the foam

all of the souls
that curl by the fire
they never know
all man's desire

watercress clings
to the banks of the stream
in the first grip of spring
when the snow melts to green

barefoot and cold
and holding a lyre
by the side of the road
holding all man's desire

call on the saint
when the white candle burns
keeping her safe
until her return