The 5 Friends

This airy song is probably not the best thing to publish at the heaviest moment of the year’s wheel, but still, here it is- a simple song about 5 sky blue friends.

 

 

Five Friends

 

They walk the road together;
they walk it side by side.
They hold each other’s hands;
they stretch out five men wide.

The sky stretched, too,
a flag of morning glory blue.

See the five of them
walk into the convenient store.
One of them buys the bread,
the other four wait by the door.

That’s what friends do-
they always hover near to you.

When they wander, when they roam,
they will hit the road together.
If one day they build a home,
they say they’ll live in it forever…

what a word…
so carefree and so blue, like a bird…

The five friends eat their meal
at a table that is round;
they never wince and cringe
to hear each other’s munching sounds.

But why?
Because these friends were dipped in sky,
their nerves never run dry.

The five friends walk the road
in matching jeans but different shirts.
They share a bag of snacks,
passing the bag both back and forth.

No concerns-
the five friends don’t believe in germs.

Five friends sit by the fire;
they listen to the music play.
One friend is asked to dance-
these friends are all too shy that way…

turning pink…
perhaps they could just sit and think?

The five friends seek advice
from a wise man at the church.
He says that friends are great,
but still you have to put God first.

And they agree-
but where is God?- He’s hard to see.
Is he a friend inside your mind?
Or could God be the sky?

The five friends vote on it-
the vote is five to none
that God must be the sky;
He shelters everyone,

so clear and sweet,
surrounding us with time and dreams,
surrounding us with space to explore;
that’s what friends are for.

Download OGG: Five Friends

Bananas

 

bananas

Strap the cloth upon your eyes- walk.
I can’t walk!
Strap the cloth upon your mouth- don’t talk.
I can’t talk!

Air surrounds like terror.
The world is black and dark everywhere.

Behind doors, men hide.
Shrink a little more inside.

Please don’t touch me now- I’m cold.
No more time to run and hide- too old.

And where else could I be
But in this darkened hall?
I can feel their bodies moving
Like bananas through the wall.

Strap the cloth upon your mouth-
I can’t talk!
Hands behind your back-
Walk!

No time. Too old.
You know before you were born, you were already sold.

And where else could I be
But curled up in my spleen?
I feel their fingers on the wall
And I know what they mean.

We walk through the hall
Patent leather shoes
On the marble floor
White you win and black you lose…

I can feel the stairwell rise.
I can feel their greenish eyes.
This was never about right and wrong;
It was only truth and lies.

Pat pat, so cold.
Don’t move, too old.

The cord around my waist
His waist beside my head
We’re standing in the kitchen now
He tells me I’m already dead.

And I know- I feel it too-
An air so dark and cold
It doesn’t emanate from you.

You’re just another fish upon his line
Trapped inside a ring of time.
Your fingers on my shoulder now;
You know I won’t resist this time.

Time is dark.
What done is done.
The dead will never rise again.
The dead and I are one.

Hidden in my spleen,
You know that I know what things mean.
There are creatures wandering this earth;
They will find their home in me.

Download MP3: Bananas

Stuffington’s Hall

Finally, a much needed song in which the King of the South defeats the King of the North in battle, or plans to anyway.

To live in a real life Stuffington’s Hall is a fantasy I dream of day and night- the coziest, stuffiest and most pompous home in the world, decorated mostly in shades of brown, filled with leather bound libraries, stone fireplaces, gleaming wood antiques owned by former presidents, and dark paintings of grumpy looking men framed in gold leaf. Or glorious paintings of triumphant generals crushing their enemies in battle.

 

 

Stuffington's Hall

Men, we will stand at the top of this hill;
when we see them approach, we will swoop
down and kill them. Their blood on our
hands, we will lift them up high as
the sparkling sun beams down from the sky.

Yankees they work hard, them Yankees they try,
but November the 1st is the day that they die.
Bless their sweet little hearts; rockaby
in the grave. We will fight for the flame;
and the flame we will save.

We are fire; they are ice-
they will chill us no more.
We will bury their bodies beneath
the dance floor of Stuffington’s Hall.
Please won’t you come, come to the ball?

Now there are two kings-
there can be but one.
He is King of the Ice; I am King of the Sun.
He is sleek and so young; I dumpy and old.
He has made it clear he wants my story to never be told.

From my leather bound books, he would
smudge out the ink with his fingers in gloves
made of synthetic mink. Though his men are alright (and
they’re armed to the gills), we know God is with us-
trapped in the nook of our frills.

So don your gray lace ladies,
don your silk hats.
Twirl round the fruit punch that bubbles in vats.
Tweet, tweet so high-
puffing like cotton upon our blue sky.

We are joy;
they are tears.
We are hopes;
they are fears.
It is us who predates them by hundreds of years.

Old fingers, bold fingers, gold fingers- me!
I am the ruler of all that I see. And I see stars
languishing behind their cold metal bars.

Old fingers, gold fingers, bold fingers- wait!
Til they reach the valley, then don’t hesitate-
swooping down in a wall, and then
join me for a dance in Stuffington’s Hall.

 

Download MP3: Stuffington’s Hall