TRACKS
Daddy
Daddy, strong and cold, I lie in awe. Daddy, can you come home now or is it me I saw leaving home turning the darkness to day turning the feeling away? Daddy, I know you hear me. Why don't you answer now? Daddy, was there ever a memory you care to miss and how. Are you happy now to suffer from joy like a little boy? It's so depressing to see so much feeling out of what just can't be. I'm sick to death of shouting and trying to get through; so there's nothing I can do. Daddy, why don't you ever change. Daddy, why don't you ever change. Why don't you change your mind about me... Elizabeth
Elizabeth, can't you find the time for sleep; so busy loving the world and all you've got. That's not too much, but you've had a lot. You gave it all away, yesterday. Elizabeth, you're a queen in the salvation army and so proud to show the velvet over tattered clothes. so much tenderness on an air of faded perfume in a gone-away, lonely and suffered-in room. Can't you find the time for rest? Can't you find your way to happiness, Elizabeth? Elizabeth, you're so many things that can be. When I look at you, sometimes I see all the things that I could be. Let me know you before you're set free. Elizabeth, someday I'll know you for sure. They'll see what you tried to stand for. So misunderstood a woman in time, you've
chosen the highest mountain to climb. The Making
of a Thrill (Dylan's Clothes)
The train
rushed me onward to Chelsea. The day
rushed me on words I can't say. So let me
sink to the drink, give in to the
drug. Let me pave
one road or another. Or I'll be
sane in a mad world, mad in a
sane world. Sane in a
mad world, mad in a
sane world. Overdosed on
man and myth taken for
granted my gift. Eating lambs
and kings in bed just as
Dylan Thomas said. He said. His head
smoke-circled poetess excess,
obsess, regress, confess. Who will
measure my success? and if I'm
sounding too wanton send me a
picture of the train you're on. I kiss his
mouth and aptitude till all my
mind is black and blue'd. Come
learning pen, be my villain. Wrap your soul around me, Dylan. The
Rainforest is Crying
The rainforest is crying. It's sad for all the world. It takes the brunt of all humanity, (and) forgives us with its tears (dry them all). So take the time to give. Do your share so future generations may live breathing clean air, with the snow. Drink in clean water and the glow of the morning sun. The rainforest is dying. We've cut it down, only to rob our own clean air. It's true, we are the species that knows. Sad irony. Because of our
wisdom, everything goes. The rainforest is sighing. It's tired and wants to go to sleep. Moments
There is sadness when the colour bar limits our kaleidoscope. Purity when complements dominate my fear and hope. I wash the play of coloured light. Can't be colour blind! To capture moments with my paint - just small fragments of time. These moments, precious moments. I paint the passing moments as sudden flashes fade. It's all in black and white - like day and night. I am in love with these moments, precious moments. I am in love with these moments to remain. Madness and mystery, crimson and grey My imagination's flight moves me toward the Light. It's a visionary sight. I see red and I sing the blues --- Valued dark in the light portraying pain of night. On seven steps, I meditate.
Chromatics vari'egate. The sound of truth is radiant in the eyes of the innocent. Moments clash in harmony (as) perfect as the blackbody. These moments, moments to relive in time. I sing the blues. Black Heaven
(I'm) lost--- in the forest, in the
shadow of sin. (I) weep--- in the wind, fall in
delirium. And step by step I'm pushing on,
condemned to an icy hell! The RED HAND--- pushes me. RED HAND--- pushing me down, down, down, down, down... When the moon's eclipse and the
howling dogs and faces that people the blankness are the nightmare visions of my
eyes--- Mirror all the lies--- I approach--- horizons--- of silence
where forgotten Masters dream They'll never understand! Now--- I'm in a trance of shadows
where the larks--- are woven golden suns in
me. and
silver moons and shining starlight. No! I'm not the Luck-Child, a puppet
in grips. Tails-trailing stars shine from my
lips. Black skies of night! (dead to a
black heaven) Circle of the self-soul! (black
heaven, white hell) Uncertainty! (black--- black--- fear) Free Man's
Mind [from "Acceptance" rock opera]
Every child is a creator until he's told he's not. Everyone's a great creation until it's taken from him. Free man's mind, free man's mind Free man's spirit, free all of
mankind We've been told about religion so do we really believe There are no fathers and no heroes it's just a possibility. Gretchen's
Dream
Walk the coloured lane Pouring purple rain All the fields are fair With flowers ev'rywhere [You and me, we and he, ah-- You can breathe with me We'll be free with no care With flowers ev'rywhere] The trees are old at last and all the cars drive past Trails of perfect smoke of ordinary folk Ev'ry headline reads "Love will fill our
needs" The sky is blue today We've not much more to say. Guerrillas'
Dance
Silence... Land mine explosion Two nuns were killed, a third
wounded... Lost a lot... lost a lot of
blood... Panama's freedom. Nicaragua's revolution. Oust Noriega! Punish all evildoers. Oust Ghadaffi! Ceausescu's dead - convicted of
genocide and other grave crimes. Romania is free Tear down the Berlin wall in minds
of many. Give women back their choice. Free Tiananmen Square! Warhol's Melee
(I) thought I saw someone I knew though there were only pages. Pages and pages of all the sinister people. Drinking, sinking, seductive, deductive intrusions of the beat. They're rumours of peace. A painter of flowers and pillows. A player plays in boldness. Their hair droops forth in poses and they wear the shirt and roses. The sculpture's pave in rudeness. A small mind cries in one corner of a dirty room where no one hears. They drain the joys and drown the fears and made addictive settlements and seconol relieves the way and builds the thoughts to overtake. Those of them who were not clad they've been losers from the start. Life is
Fighting
It's no use, no use in standing your ground when there's no one around to believe you, believe in you. You'll feel homeless and far, still won't know where you are. Life is fighting, not inviting. It's no use, no use in pretending this way when the things that they say will surpass you, are surpassing
you. When the young leave their home and have no place to roam, it's a war out there, confusion everywhere. Life is fighting, harsh and biting. Mountain
Dream
I awoke from inner peace and found the story not complete. I took a walk back through my life and I was followed by a man on a quiet mountain side. There were people in the air and mist of color everywhere. I'm on a mountain dream and I turn to see his face and I find that there is peace-- peace-- peace-- On that quiet mountain side in a cold and drifting tide was the doorway of my life and it seemed there was no use. My golden calf had walked away. He lived in another day. No more silence can I say, can I
say-- |
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All
music/lyrics written by Sandra Frazier 
send e-mail to: sandy@mystic-art.com
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© Sandy Frazier, Mystic-Art Media, SandraFrazier.com