Light on the wall Just stare at it hard then he’s coming to call He said that your name was the cause for it all But you knew truth- he knew nothing at all And next thing it’s all coming down.
Blue on your mind Then come the words that you’re struggling to find A world that don’t change and his arm like a vine till he’s lifting you up by the shoulder.
Waited too long You can’t hold it back now you’re lost in the song To enter a world where you could not belong only lay hypnotized in the smolder.
Cotton is shame But when you’re alone then you’re primed for the game The way you’ll go out is the way that you came To touch is to know that you’re feeling the same And next thing it’s all coming down.
Light on your mind It hurts when you know he’s not looking to find Anything more than to have a good time and that you were the one he could roller.
Melted again Everyone knows it’s the heart of these men To lower you down till you can’t rise again then they turn to a friend and grow colder.
You will remain Just hold your hands close to the fire of the pain And in the end only the fire will remain The men will return to the light where they came And next thing it’s all coming down.
And great…… it seems like the sounds gets weird at the higher parts but I still have zero idea how microphones & recording devices work. They are so complicated. Of course I should try to figure out how they work, but it seems so complex that there is really no hope of ever making progress in that realm. And so boring I could possibly die. I must be resigned to my fate and continue on. Just realize it sounds better in person & make adjustments in your imagination. Thanks!
Goodbye for now, I go Who am I? I don’t know, nobody knows Goodbye for now, so long I will reach for you one day through arms of song…
I saw the people form a long thin line They surrounded me in a circle; I did not want to die I saw a dark spot move across the sky Her message was so clear to me: goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye for now, I go Who am I? I don’t know, nobody knows Goodbye for now, so long I will reach for you one day through arms of song…
They built their village in the northern woods This is not my home, one day I’ll leave for good I cooked my food beneath a veil of stars This is not my home, I said with quivering arms.
Goodbye for now, I go Who am I? I don’t know, nobody knows Goodbye for now, so long I will reach for you one day through arms of song…
They crossed the river in a long thin line Their clothes were stacked upon their heads, piled so high They held each other’s hands with long thin arms Though I leave this place, I will remember you as fallen stars.
Goodbye for now, I go Who am I? I don’t know, nobody knows Goodbye for now, so long I will reach for you one day through arms of song.
*
I wrote this song a couple years ago when I was redecorating my apartment in the hopes that it would magically transform my life into a more exciting one. Since I had already tried every other decorating style I could think of- and my exciting life had not yet manifested- I decided to use reverse psychology on the universe and make my home impersonal and sterile, like a business office. I ‘decluttered,’ removed pictures from the wall, and replaced cutesy soap dishes with industrial ones. I tried to make everything as white and empty as possible. I decided to stop writing songs, to make the void even greater.
And it did make me feel empty. I always get this particular sad feeling after decluttering. ‘Decluttering’ is a popular movement at the moment- supposedly all aspects of your life will improve when you release unnecessary possessions- but I am more or less an opponent of it. Without possessions to weigh us down, our minds become untethered. I learned this the hard way, having given away my possessions many times. When I left one husband and married another, I placed everything I owned, clothing and all, into one duffle bag. I didn’t even have different clothes for summer and winter, just a pair of green shorts and yellow pants that I wore both in snow and extreme humidity. Plus a pink polo shirt with green frogs on it.
Sometimes I still find it challenging to deal with the responsibility of material possessions, but that is life. It is better to be crushed alive by heaviness than to go insane from extreme lightness. Isn’t it?
At any rate, this song is an expression of the ache I felt after turning my home into a business office.
A previous redecoration, where I decided everything needed to be painted green, even Slippers. The poster on the wall is from an earlier decorating scheme where all walls were covered with pictures of water. I don’t know why I felt the need to constantly redecorate, but living in a house has forced me to put that mania behind me, at least a little.
And before you call Slippers fat (as people did at the time) remember that she had just spent the summer in solitary confinement, after getting hit by a car, with nothing to do but eat kibble all day. This photo was right after we adopted her.
Father, I need to sit.
There’s all of this blood down here- nobody will tell me what it is.
Father, what is the time?
There’s all of this blood down here- nobody will tell me if it’s mine.
You built a tower in my heart just like a paradise
I laid me back to watch so warm in the sand.
Clouds flew above me light flashing out of their eagle eyes
Now I can feel those cold things starting again.
Father, where are my hands?
I need to touch my eyes- something tells me they are hurting me again
Father, am I lying in bed?
Why are the curtains drawn? What is this thing upon my head?
You built a tower in a tower in my heart just like a paradise
I laid me back to watch so safe in the sand.
Sun shimmered on my body like I was a pegasi
But now I can feel those cold things starting again.
Father, why are the curtains drawn?
So many things to do. I can’t remain in here too long.
Father, I need to ask
Of all the things you’ve done, which ones are the ones that you’d take back?
You built a world around my heart just like a paradise
I laid me back to watch so safe in your hand.
Cities they swirled around me like they was a race of lights
But now I can feel those cold things dripping again.
All of the men in the world lined up side by side.
A bundle of twigs they wait for the flame.
Dance by the fire and you will realize.
A burning twig will never feel the pain.
Although I’m not religious, there are at least two Gods I believe in…
1. A White God, * whom I simply call “God.” He is the man in the sky who hears our prayers and answers them, so long as they are not in conflict with our destiny or personal growth. But no matter what, when we reach out to him, he will respond with care and love. He is above all our friend.
2. A Gold God, whom I call “God the Father.” He is the watchmaker who created the laws which run the universe. There is no need to pray to him, because he has already constructed the universe to run according to the highest good of all. Plus, he is far away, standing outside the world as he watches it turn.
He does, however, contain vast reservoirs of intelligence and wisdom that we can tap into, and also the Virtues. Virtues are, of course, things like honesty, courage, kindness etc. But on the golden level, they are power sources built into the fabric of the universe. By tapping into them we release external forces as well as internal ones.
Basically, the Virtues are stars- shining above us from all directions- with some diametrically opposed to others (frugality vs generosity, for example.) When we embody a virtue, we unleash a powerful wind blowing us in that star’s direction. If we tap into the right virtue, one that is aligned with our destiny, we will experience this as powerful forces of synchronicity coming to play in our favor, helping us to achieve our purpose. But if we tap into the wrong virtue, one that is not aligned with our destiny, it can be a disaster, carrying us into a foreign life where our strengths are useless. Or worse still, blowing us into a hostile world where our gifts are liabilities.
This is why I have yet to tap into any virtues myself. I don’t have the self-knowledge to know if I ought to be jovial or sober, trusting or crafty. But one day I look forward to doing it. Who wants to slog their way through life when they could be blown swiftly away by forces beyond their control?
* Given the mood of the moment with everyone on the lookout for racism, I feel the need to point out that this God being white has nothing to do with “white people.” At any rate, he is not the “white” color of Caucasian skin, he is white like bones, the color of bones that all humans and animals share.
I promised myself I would not write another song until I had something warm and tropical to sing about. I feel like a cold front is sweeping this country, filling people with piousness and righteous ideas. I am okay with a little righteousness, but once it reaches the point where people start to take pleasure in doling out justice I get nervous. I did not want to add any ice to the group mind.
Still, this Arctic song woke me up in the middle of the night and I decided to write it down anyway. Because the South is all about trusting in Providence, just as the North is about Self-Reliance.
We walk through the frozen mountains.
We wade through the icy stream.
We shine like the northern rainbow.
We blow like the icy breeze.
Am I real?
Am I real?
Kneel down to drink from the water.
Kneel down to drink from the stream.
I’m too thirsty to think about it-
I don’t care if it’s dirty or clean.
Am I real?
Am I real?
We lie upon a caribou fur.
We rest our eyes upon a ceiling of ice.
Silver needles fill my fingers and toes-
I start to sink into a paradise.
Am I real?
Am I real?
We work beneath the silvery sun.
We rely on our ancestry.
Sometimes cold overtakes my heart-
It floats beside me like another me.
Am I real?
Am I real?
I cut my finger with a silvery knife.
I tuck my knife back inside of my fur.
He licks my finger with an eager tongue-
Raw meat is what we prefer.
Am I real?
Am I real?
We walk through the frozen mountains.
We wade through the icy stream.
We are silver needles beneath the sky,
Dissolving into the Bering Sea.
