TRACKS
Alone Under
Sky
Birth, for the
first time...
The deeper life is
grave.
And then something
comes I don't expect...
When suddenly I
know... I'm not alone under sky.
Hiding behind a
night,
each birth brings us
closer to the sweet release.
It's an unseen
God.
It's a limitless
love.
And the kingdoms
come and they run from the gun.
They can't see.
It can't be.
What slumbers in
our souls?
Arousals are the
signals.
And in the roar of
thunder
a discovery is made.
We are at the
centre of a great new world!
Never alone. Never
unborne.
Always alone
Never alone. Never
unborne.
Always alone
beneath a cruel,
cruel sky.
Melancholia
[the doors of
Death, Life and Chance]
Time grows heavy -
I long for the
fog.
Vivid light - too
crude, too bright -
revealed too much
of me.
Sometimes we must
know the darkness of the mind.
Go the night sea
journey blind through the suffering of the soul,
"to learn to
love with a love that's more than love."
We are the sheep -
thrust in a world
of danger and chance,
nourished and
destroyed,
awakened from the
trance.
Forces sever, yet
link us to the Flow.
I bathe in the
light-drenched realm of the afterglow.
Darkened spheres
attract the distant flame.
Open up these
human doors, distancing from evil.
Show mercy to the
sad-despised
our highest
instincts following - the light.
Hush the silence -
The passing of
this sadness is (just) creative breath released.
Ascend the spirit
ladder -
past melancholia.
These are the
great moods -
the lenses through
which we read our minds
to become the
living soul,
to earn the rite
to passage,
exiled from the
mainstream;
escape to inner
growth.
Hatchet sounds and
sharpened scythe -
God breathes in
the breath of life -
Spoken thunder,
thought as law -
Notions and
sensations of such solitude
are simply
daylight's night mood.
The Chance
Flower of the
soul,
mortal shadows
slink in sweat.
It's the fever of
the waiting
and my soon-to-be
regret.
Destiny is an air
where
lies swallow up
the sound.
About to take a
chance,
foolishly, I'll
hold the stars in suspense --
I'm a lucky,
ruined gambler
living in the
rhythm of the absolute wisdom of chance.
In the third of a
second
about to occur
before my eyes
everything can
change when I join the game --
I know that
I really can know nothing that is known.
Chance is a god
without existence.
We worship but a
lie
and work until we
die.
Oh I can't take
another one.
No, I can't change
my circumstance
(with fate nor
free will).
I can't obey the
rhythm
when it's out to
win or kill.
Simple chances,
easy schemes
get in the way of
all my dreams.
The spinning of
roulette
makes me forget.
Coincidence and
accidents
infinite repeats
the game of chance
in deluded eyes of
the phantom laws.
Illusions cloud, I
bet...
against all cause.
I'm a lucky,
ruined gambler
living in the
rhythm of the absolute wisdom of chance.
In the third of a
second
about to occur
before my eyes
everything can
change when I join the game --
I know that
I really can know nothing that is known.
Given the chance
(don't bet your life)
The chance (don't
throw away your dreams)
Your luck will
fade; don't throw it all away.
Steel in My Soul
There is laughter
in the air; there's a voice on the wing.
God's the greatest
dramatist in everything--
Resist the better
angel, 'cause it's a bitter stranger.
That which doesn't
kill you keeps you out of danger.
Saints alive!
Saints alive! Saints alive!
Turn the page of
the hidden heart.
I've got steel in
my soul, I've got steel in my soul
Ain't stealin' my
soul
I don't know where
I come from,
Don't know where
I've been.
But I've got steel
in my soul.
Ain't no luck in
the air....
I know all that I
need is passion and truth.
Give me back my
youth
and I'll turn it
around and give it to you.
Running like mad in
the waking dream,
(I) can't get back
to the living connection.
I can't find
shelter for my own protection.
Won't make the
Faustian bargain, gotta retract the deal.
Mephistopheles
will have to find another soul to steal.
And a mysterious
comfort puts its arms around you
and holds you
close and tells you,
"It's
alright. It's alright."
"Sleep
tonight. Sleep tonight."
Hunger
Satisfaction is
the long torture of our wishes and wants -
the endlessness of
our requirements.
To one gratified
desire, there are ten that stay unstilled.
Objects cannot
fill satisfaction.
And the god of
irony celebrates the Sabbath of our toil
in the
prison-house of Will...
where the starved
are never filled.
I'm a river that
seeks in vain for (the) sea.
The buried light and
half-dreams of the night
lift like the fog
erupts
when the spark of
dawn interrupts.
I'm ready to
believe! I'm ready to receive!
The ache in the
heart from the terrible void
and the words that
await will fill
will feed and will
kill the.... HUNGER.
Hunger! is a dark
and dirty alley of the deadened dead-end dreams.
Hunger! Go away!
Don't come again
another day.
It's not the rain
for my parade, no!
Hunger! The pangs
are not my serenade
Starvation cuts -
It's a sharpened blade.
Hunger
Smiles of a Sorrow
[for Kurt Cobain]
No free will, free
will is gone
left too deepened
underground.
And the will is a
ripened fruit;
- destiny's
pursuit.
In the hands of
God we lie.
At the myst'ry's
end we'll die.
Time will
recognize, time will recognize
the smiles of a sorrow
(sorrow) (sorrow).
Mmm--- mmm---
At the last
breaths of kharma, time we cannot borrow.
We awaken lost as
the coin is tossed (as the coin is tossed)
by the Big Hand in
the Wishing Well.
Where the
bottomlessness is our hell
there are no
answers there.
There is no wisdom
anywhere.
No! But I can't
complain of pleasure or pain.
And the damned
play on, knowing will is gone.
Will is gone,
gone, gone
Time will
recognize the smiles of a sorrow.
...of a sorrow.
Led By Spirit
[about my mother]
"I gave Him
my mouth at 3 or 4 when they laid hands on me.
And until my dying
day, I have the pow'r to see.
I have the power.
I have the power."
It's a gift. It's
a curse.
Sometimes I could
have known no worse.
It's a wound. It's
the Light.
Sometimes it's a
candle in the night.
"I have been
to the riverside. Oh--
Their confessions
to confide.
I don't fear it.
(I'm) led by spirit."
"I came down
from the mountaintop, where they knew me well.
I walked down past
the riverside where Baptists kneel and fell.
I have the gift of
sight. The gift of sight."
"From the
hills of Tennessee to the big city life I knew.
(I) had to search
my soul to find the answers to be true.
The spirit came to
me. She came to me."
It's a maze. It's
a fight.
Sometimes I shout to
God at night,
"Give me
strength and the Word."
I know the sound
of the voice I heard.
It's a gift. It's
a curse.
Sometimes I could
have known no worse.
It's a wound. It's
the Light.
Sometimes it's a
candle in the night.
Messengers
I tried to find my
muse today - the song within my art.
A silent mind, a
savage mood, raging wild at heart.
Wrestled with the
angel in a darkened delta field.
As the daughter,
little girl in me melt and healed.
I gave the message
to the girl - the messenger in me:
"You owe
nobody in this world - no, not even me."
My mother and my
sisters spoke; it could have been The Word.
But the message
meant for me wasn't to be heard.
I wish I were a
young girl with the chance to start again.
I wish I were a
virgin who'd passed up all the men.
The highest height
that I must climb may still be to come.
I'd owed myself a
beating then, but now I'm feeling numb.
There is a prowler
in our midst standing, hands held out,
tugging on the
heartstrings of the faithless plagued with doubt
I wish I were a
young girl with the chance to start again.
I wish I were a
virgin who'd passed up all the men.
The messengers are
still so close and help me to recover
till the sparrow
sings in me a brief song; I'd discover
longing far too
early on to ever truly be free.
At times what's
helped me stay alive was its intensity.
Baptized Again
Born from a bad
beginning,
I played the
Chicago blues.
When everyone
failed me and left me alone,
I'd nothing left
to lose.
My radio kept me
from losing my mind.
I heard what I
understood
to be the first
music of its kind
from the Delta and
the backwoods.
Baptize me again
each time I slide
back down.
I wanna be
baptized again -
my lower self I
must drown.
Elvis taught me
gospel and heart;
his rhythm and soul
bled through.
Impassioned
holy-rollers pulsed
as songs in my
heart, they grew.
In tiny,
white-worn chapels
where music raised
the dead
rejoiced in
jubilees of hope.
The preacher man
was led.
The preacher man's
dark cries,
with fire blazing
in his eyes,
and the rhythm of
tambourines
was moving through
my veins.
On the long dirt
Blues Highway
I paid my dues
this way
I shot emotions
through my guitar
and said what I
needed to say.
Gospels, hymns and
the spirit of song
arms raised to
heaven's gate
borne of pain and
sensual tales,
sprang from broken
hearts and hate.
Baptize me in my
music
to overcome
hardships and pain.
Its waters filled
with a soul force;
got down in a
torrent of rain.
Words
You try to hurt me
with your words
but it won't work.
I can't hurt any
more than I do.
You try to cut me
to the soul
but you won't win.
There is no room
in my heart left for you.
I've reached the
point of no return.
There's no turning
back for me.
Life's too short
to waste it in pain
so stay away from
me.
(and) take back
your words...
So take back your
words of hate.
I used to cry my
life away
but now I don't.
I won't bend down
and I weep no more.
It's too often
heard -
that silly little
word, so meaningless and small.
Don't bother to say
it at all. Take back your words.
Take back your
words... Take back your words of hate.
Actions speak
louder than words!
|
send e-mail to: sandy@mystic-art.com