Lyrics to an Old Song I Wrote

Chicken wire and crepe paper
wrapped around a hayrack,
towed behind a pickup
in the homecoming parade
in a town as small as this one,
maybe smaller, but that was
too long ago, my distant past,
my childhood a charade

CHORUS:
I had a dream last night
you turned around and asked me why
I wasn't coming home again --
I couldn't tell you (2x)

Traps set in the corners
of the hallways of my high school,
memories like tigers
crouched and ready there to spring;
tried to do my best 
to be invisible, but that was impossible,
a waste of time,
a waste of everything.

CHORUS

Tried to tell the people
with their eyes glued to the tv set
to look at something else
besides the color of their hate
I was just a child then
but I wasn't, but that was 'cause
I couldn't be, 
it wasn't fair,
you can't go back to change my fate

CHORUS

The Lost is Not So Lost


I have never learned to speak
the language of these slate-edged hills; 
silence speaking eloquently
things I almost understand

I think I have heard you walking
softly, barefoot and daydreaming;
wonder if you've heard me calling
out my name, an owl's whisper.
In the Catskills,
do the sleepy towns tell tales?
In the Catskills,
do the sleepy towns tell tales?

**********

This is all I remember of the song. I wrote it 30 years or so ago, and I really haven’t visited it since I wrote it. I couldn’t even remember this much earlier this morning. I wrote the words down somewhere, but I don’t remember where I put them.

I looked on my computer and I found it! I found it!

I have never learned to speak
The language of these slate-edged hills –
Silence speaking eloquently
Things I almost understand

CHORUS:
I think I have seen you walking
Softly, barefoot and daydreaming
Wonder if you hear me calling
Out your name, an owl’s whisper
In the Catskills,
Do the sleepy towns tell tales?
In the Catskills,
Do the sleepy towns tell tales?

Looking in the deep blue patience
Of your eyes, I falter, losing
All my words of consequence
Everything I meant to say

CHORUS

In the wind that blows around
The hills, I thought I felt your smile
Gather up my words again
And try to ask what you were thinking

CHORUS

I used to be a singer-songwriter until I divorced my guitarist. I had an okay voice; my guitarist played a semi-finger-picking style and wasn’t very disciplined. We were never going to be anything but those folksingers who attended open mic occasionally. But I loved the words.

Most of what I wrote was about crushes I got while spending my daily life in a small town in the foothills of the Catskills. I had lots of crushes; I have lots of songs to reclaim.

I can’t sing now; I’ve lost my voice in all but my talking range. I suppose I could get it back with practice, but it’s hard having the heart to practice when reminded of how much I’ve lost.

I started to sing this, and I could sing without obstruction to my voice, although it was not as strong as before. The lost is not so lost anymore.

Homecoming Day

These lyrics tell about the ritual that happens across the US this time of year in high schools and colleges to commemorate football and community. They also hint at the dark side of community. I wrote this years ago, but in this #MeToo climate, others might find themselves in this song:

1. Chicken wire and crepe paper
wrapped around a hayrack
towed behind a pickup
in the Homecoming parade
In a town as small as this one
maybe smaller but that was
too long ago
my distant past
my childhood a charade

Chorus (2x):
I had a dream last night
you turned around and asked me why
I wasn’t coming home again
I couldn’t tell you

2. Traps set in the corners
of the hallways of the high school
memories like serpents
poised and ready there to spring
tried to do my best to be invisible
but that was impossible
a waste of time
a waste of everything

Chorus (2x)

3. Tried to tell the people
with their eyes glued to the TV sets
to look at something else
outside the color of their hate
I was just a child then but I wasn’t
but that was ’cause
I couldn’t be
it wasn’t fair
you can’t go back and change my fate

Chorus 2x

I couldn’t tell you

Old song today

There is music that goes with this:

Turn the corner
to a street beyond a map,
walk much further
till our feet forget the path.
We have walked here,
but only in our dreams;
then we wake up
never knowing what it means

Turn the handle,
slide back the creaking door
as I wonder
if you’ve been here before.
Weathered iron
is rusting in its sleep
as we sit here
in the silence that we keep

In the morning
if the snow has turned to gold
does it matter
in a story never told (2x)

Turn the corner
to a street beyond a map,
walk much further
till our feet forget the path.
We have walked here,
but only in our dreams;
then we wake up
never knowing what it means

In the morning
if the snow has turned to gold
does it matter
in a story never told (4x and fade)

An Old Song

This song was written a long time ago about a friend with whom I had a shy, almost mystical friendship with. In real life, I wouldn’t go out with him because there was always a long line of irrational women in front of him, and he had briefly dated all of them. (He was a guitarist). But in my dreams, and occasionally in life, we had great conversations …

Turn the corner

to a street beyond a map,

walk much further

till our feet forget the path.

We have walked here

but only in our dreams,

Then we wake up,

Never knowing what it means

Turn the handle,

slide back the creaking door

while I wonder

if you’ve been here before.

Weathered iron

is rusting in its sleep

As we settle

in the silence that we keep.

(CHORUS 2x)

In the morning,

if the snow has turned to gold,

does it matter

to the secrets that we hold

1), then CHORUS 3-4x and fade

Part 2 of Yesterday’s Post: A Song Emerges

I used to be a singer-songwriter before I divorced my guitarist twenty years ago. Not an incredibly good one, because my husky contralto voice wasn’t trained or crystal-clear, but good enough for folk music. My ex would write intricate tunes on his guitar in his semi-fingerpicking style, and I’d listen to it, and the conversation would go like this:

Me: I have words that fit with that.
Him: How can you? It’s seven-fourths time.
Me: Try me.

Nowadays, we’d say “Hold my beer” instead of “Try me”, but this was the early 1990’s.

I believe that I posted some of my old lyrics here — I don’t sing those songs now except a cappella, because I didn’t get the chords in the divorce, nor did I learn to play guitar. My ex still performs and has CDs out I hear. For any reader who knows him, please tell me if he ever performs the stuff we wrote together, because there are intellectual property issues involved there.

Anyhow, I hadn’t written a song since 1997, because even if I had tunes in my head, I would not be able to write them down or play them on a guitar. My voice has become somewhat rusty out of lack of practice and age and the medication I take.

Yesterday, I posted the first song I’d written in maybe 20 years (see the post called “Christmas in a Time of Despots”). It didn’t take me long to write because I’ve been stewing for weeks about our current sociopolitical situation here in America.

On Facebook, I posted the same thing but asked if anyone could come up with the music part. And one of my musical colleagues/friends answered!

Sometime soon I will get with her to play with the music/words and have a song! For the first time in twenty years.

I don’t know if you’re reading, Mary Shepherd, but thank you!!

Homecoming Day

This is a song I wrote about 20 years ago; I can’t write music; I just sing the tune. This was written years after “Empty Gym” but about the same incident, and it is written from the point of view of an older person to an innocent high schooler who doesn’t know how bad things can get:

#1
Chicken wire and crepe paper
wrapped around a hayrack
towed behind a pickup
in the Homecoming parade
in a town as small as this one,
maybe smaller,
but that was so long ago,
my distant past,
my childhood a charade

Chorus: (2x)
I had a dream last night
you turned around and asked me why
I wasn’t coming home again —
I couldn’t tell you.

#2
Traps set in the corners
of the hallway in the high school
Memories like tigers
crouched and ready there to spring
Always tried my best to be invisible
but that was impossible —
a waste of time,
a waste of everything

Chorus

#3
Tried to tell the people
with their eyes glued to the TV set
to look at something else
outside the color of their hate
I was just a child then,
but I wasn’t —
I couldn’t be —
you can’t go back and change my fate.

Chorus and fade…