A video which reminds me that I should probably trim my hair, organize my kitchen & play my guitar more carefully, but no- these things will never happen.
I don’t really believe in female instrumentalists, for starters. I always thought I hated male instrumentalists as well, until I recently discovered David Rawlings & Stevie Ray Vaughn & both of them blew me away. Normally, I hate listening to people play guitar. What could be more nauseating than a pointless guitar solo followed by audience applause? But these 2 guys just have something inside of them that comes out through their fingers and it touches me, I don’t know where or why.
I noticed David Rawlings also uses the same pink capo as me. That is where the similarity ends, of course, but do I care? No. I don’t aspire to be something more than I am. I think the crude & rustic will have a seat right next to the skilled & refined at God’s table.
The hill was high, I couldn’t climb
though I knew you were there.
A world of green surrounded me
it stretched out everywhere.
So I got back in my car and drove
to try and find a home.
I thought of you, the whole way through
it made me feel alone.
I thought of you and of the field
with the hill that was so high.
A temple built to something
that lives only in the sky
Everything is always high
and always far away.
I tell myself I must never stop and
I will get there someday.
Many gods and many men
have lived upon a crest.
Though the clouds pass over all of them
it is you I like the best.
All these hills and all these gods
and each man has his own.
Except for me, a tiny breeze
still searching for a home.
A tiny breeze who when she flies
is cut down by the winds.
They slice my heart and splay it
like a butterfly and then
Then I can scale these hills, but even so
my shadow looms so small
that to you it was just the same as though
I was never there at all.
Big men shadow over me
there is no other way
than to watch them with admiring eyes
through a film of gray.
For me there can be no other way for me
than to lie back on the ground
and to let the dreams wash over me
until a home is found.
A home that could be anywhere,
a home so hard to find.
Oh God, but please let it be somewhere real
not somewhere in my mind.
Someplace real, someplace strong
mountainous and grave
nothing flimsy like a butterfly
with her wings upon your leg.
Everyone has gods upon
these hills where claddows fly.
Except for me, I have only you
and only in my mind.
I reached for you, but there was no use
the world was large and green.
It stretched out wide and endlessly
like the sky within a dream.
And who am I, but a dot so small
that no one else could see
as you passed me by invisibly
your shadow touching me?
As you passed me by just like a plant
pressed flat upon the ground
just a thing too small to be cared about
when hills are all around.
A song from a dream I had in which there were two hills- one that was really steep and I thought, well MAYBE I can climb that, but on top of that there was yet another hill that was practically straight up and down, and I knew climbing it would be impossible. But it looked so beautiful.
The hill was high, I couldn’t climb
though I knew you were there.
A world of green surrounded me
it stretched out everywhere.
So I got back in my car and drove
to try and find a home.
I thought of you, the whole way through
it made me feel alone.
I thought of you and of the field
with the hill that was so high.
A temple built to something
that lives only in the sky
Everything is always high
and always far away.
I tell myself I must never stop and
I will get there someday.
Many gods and many men
have lived upon a crest.
Though the clouds pass over all of them
it is you I like the best.
All these hills and all these gods
and each man has his own.
Except for me, a tiny breeze
still searching for a home.
A tiny breeze who when she flies
is cut down by the winds.
They slice my heart and splay it
like a butterfly and then
Then I can scale these hills, but even so
my shadow looms so small
that to you it was just the same as though
I was never there at all.
Big men shadow over me
there is no other way
than to watch them with admiring eyes
through a film of gray.
For me there can be no other way for me
than to lie back on the ground
and to let the dreams wash over me
until a home is found.
A home that could be anywhere,
a home so hard to find.
Oh God, but please let it be somewhere real
not somewhere in my mind.
Someplace real, someplace strong
mountainous and grave
nothing flimsy like a butterfly
with her wings upon your leg.
Everyone has gods upon
these hills where claddows* fly.
Except for me, I have only you
and only in my mind.
I reached for you, but there was no use
the world was large and green.
It stretched out wide and endlessly
like the sky within a dream.
And who am I, but a dot so small
that no one else could see
as you passed me by invisibly
your shadow touching me?
As you passed me by just like a plant
pressed flat upon the ground
just a thing too small to be cared about
when hills are all around.
Me, in my favorite activity, going for a car ride. Unfortunately, I don’t have a license, so car rides are a luxury. If I did have one, I would drive all day long. All my dreams include a segment where I am driving without a license & start to panic that the cops will pull me over.
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
When the time wasn’t over yet
When the time was ready to begin
When my heart was red lying in a box
Waiting for the sticking pin.
There you go, I know your eyes
Fire like a flash of pain
Feel it burn, feel it end
What is the name of this thing that remains?
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
There you go, the hand that wears the glove of velvet red
Like a woman, like a child, is the man afraid of his own death
Like a woman, like a child- the man who will never fight
Flickering beneath the sky and dying that same night.
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
There you go, the man I know whose legs are far too thin
Find the box and open it to push your stick pin in
Fire I know, death I know, I also know your eyes
Like a woman, like a child- the man who never lies.
Fly away in a little bit
Fly away in a cloud of strings
Like the sun on an icicle
You found your pair of wings.
For me, this song captures what I see as the essence of West Virginia, which is earthiness combined with mysticism, violence combined with faith…
Fun Fact: Did you know that (in some circles) it is considered rude to refer to cats/dogs/etc as “animals” with the preferred term being “country folk?”
5 bright stars that I’ve never seen before
Step by step walking on the checkerboard
You know, some things get easier with time
Blood flows much easier when I know the blood is mine.
5 dark knights sleeping underneath the skies
Toss and turn, thinking of the way you died
I can’t describe what is left of me more delicate than a lace
Hold me in your hand then let me slip into the wind and watch
Me fly.
Sometimes the sky is filled with eyes.
5 small boys I saw them inside my dream
Step by step but the checkerboard was green
You know, they never cried they were a bubble in the air
Flying in the wind they never knew that you were there
All of the time.
They were oblivious to the feeling of your eyes.
Step by step walking to the rabbit hole
And there I will forget, fall into a black so fine
That you were there with me when every wind
Was filled with time.
We were oblivious to the feeling of their eyes.
Walking through flowers surrounded by thoughts of her when she was down on her knees Wind in my hair but there’s nobody there much less somebody begging to please Maybe tonight my wind will come Maybe tonight the sky will unfold Maybe tonight I will hear the words Life is a story that’s already told, I’m told.
Clouds at my back I can get nothing back but a picture that’s turned upside down Clouds that are pink, though I struggle to think I just twist and fall back on the ground Maybe tonight my wind will come Maybe tonight the sky will unfold Capture it quick in a sack of gray Maybe tonight I will truly be old.
A flag, a sky, a kite, a lie A memory that fades, twisting and flying away…
Walking the path that I carved with my own feet wrapped in my own cotton cloth Walking the path to the cliff where I stand with my staff on the edge of the drop off I know what they say about me I know who they think I am And if I’m magic I don’t really know that I know that I’m not quite a man.
Maybe tonight my wind will come Maybe tonight the sky will untwist Capture it quick like a flag of gray Folded and holded with twine round my wrist.
