Good morning… I spent last weekend out in the country. Er… “out IN”? The grammar police probably has issues with me, and frankly, my dears, I don’t give a damn.
Anyway, it was a weekend of both downtime and celebration… downtime because I’ve been working harder than a rented mule and celebratory in that we threw my father a little surprise birthday party. Dad’s probably the hardest working man I know; and please understand, that’s a hard benchmark to clear in my world. But for reals, he's the best man I know.
So this morning I was driving to the latest greatest project meeting… and as I reached cruising velocity I decided it was time to rock out in preparation for meetings about, well, setting up more meetings, … unfortunately, I did not have any Ice Cube CDs in the changer, so the winner was Counting Crows and their latest offering, an impeccable double-album work entitled Saturday Nights and Sunday mornings.
Track 2 on Disc 1 appeals to my soul – and while every CC fan knows that Adam Duritz is (quite literally) a poster child for Prozac, man can he smith a song. So this one’s for uh, all five of you who read this inspiring blog… especially my wingman Bengal up in the Big Apple. Today this song will be stuck in my head, as my own personal theme song... tp paraphrase Family Guy's Peter Griffin, "I've always wanted my own theme music"!
Hanging Tree
She brings her friends so we wont have to be alone
Fear I might lose my composure without warning
I am a child of fire I am a lion I have desires
And I was born inside the sun this morning
This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time
This dizzy life is just a hanging tree
This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time
This dizzy life is just a hanging tree
They say good evening when they dont know what to say
They say good morning when they wish you would go home
You open windows and you wait for someone warm to come inside and then freeze to
death alone
This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time
This dizzy life is just a hanging tree
This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time
This dizzy life is just a hanging tree
She calls a waitress when its time for her to go
And I know everyone is eventually leaving
I got a pair of wings for my birthday baby and I will fall down through the sun
to see you mine
This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time
This dizzy life is just a hanging tree
This dizzy life of mine keeps hanging me up all the time
This dizzy life is just a hanging tree
For me, for me, for me
Artist: Counting Crows (Buy Counting Crows CDs)
Album: Saturday Nights and Sunday Morning
Mood: Melancholy Power-Pop
Showing posts with label 2000s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2000s. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Shakedown Charlottesville
I just got two tickets to see The Dead in Charlottesville... so some lucky person will be joining me for a ride to the Hook on April 15. I. Cannot. Wait.
I never got to see the Dead with Jerry. That's one of my biggest regrets... my brother was lucky enough to catch one of Jer-bear's last shows, in DC, and he isn't even much of a GD fan, per se. Oh well - hindsight's always 20/20.
So, you know what's stuck in my head now... Green Day. KIDDING! It's an old favorite called Terrapin Station, baby... my good friend Kathryn gets credit for hooking me on this album.
Terrapin Station
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelights aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things weve never seen will seem familiar.
Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lions den.
Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
Thats how it stands today. you decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.
Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will return, but he cannot be bought or sold.
Terrapin station
Inspiration, move me brightly. light the song with sense and color;
Hold away despair, more than this I will not ask.
Faced with mysteries dark and vast, statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb, to get to terrapin.
Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright;
The spiral light of venus, rising first and shining best,
On, from the northwest corner, of a brand new crescent moon,
While crickets and cicadas sing, a rare and different tune,
Terrapin station.
In the shadow of the moon, terrapin station.
And I know well get there soon, terrapin station.
I cant figure out, terrapin, if its the end or beginning, terrapin,
But the trains put its brakes on, terrapin,
And the whistle is screaming, terrapin.
Terrapin station - at the siding
While you were gone, these faces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden. with nothing to believe in,
Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
Youre back in terrapin for good or ill again, for good or ill again.
Artist: The Grateful Dead
Album: Terrapin Station
Year: 1977
Genre: Jerry!
I never got to see the Dead with Jerry. That's one of my biggest regrets... my brother was lucky enough to catch one of Jer-bear's last shows, in DC, and he isn't even much of a GD fan, per se. Oh well - hindsight's always 20/20.
So, you know what's stuck in my head now... Green Day. KIDDING! It's an old favorite called Terrapin Station, baby... my good friend Kathryn gets credit for hooking me on this album.
Terrapin Station
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelights aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things weve never seen will seem familiar.
Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lions den.
Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
Thats how it stands today. you decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.
Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will return, but he cannot be bought or sold.
Terrapin station
Inspiration, move me brightly. light the song with sense and color;
Hold away despair, more than this I will not ask.
Faced with mysteries dark and vast, statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb, to get to terrapin.
Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright;
The spiral light of venus, rising first and shining best,
On, from the northwest corner, of a brand new crescent moon,
While crickets and cicadas sing, a rare and different tune,
Terrapin station.
In the shadow of the moon, terrapin station.
And I know well get there soon, terrapin station.
I cant figure out, terrapin, if its the end or beginning, terrapin,
But the trains put its brakes on, terrapin,
And the whistle is screaming, terrapin.
Terrapin station - at the siding
While you were gone, these faces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden. with nothing to believe in,
Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
Youre back in terrapin for good or ill again, for good or ill again.
Artist: The Grateful Dead
Album: Terrapin Station
Year: 1977
Genre: Jerry!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
