Black and white and sepia tone
Clear distinctions to classify emotion
Passing moments, unclarified commotion
I'm sad to watch it fade away
Though I didn't feel much today
Tomorrow I'll find the filter
And I'll be sad today will wilter
Classify it with surroundings
A specific period sounding
Tie it to a visual anchor
Cars and clothing which we hankered
Markers now invisible
With these memories be indivisible
And I'll love those filters then
For the emotions they lend

Shall I on this path embark
Past these feelings dark
The tension grips the spine
For calm, the heart does pine
Nature says to sit and quake
And pray the Lord my soul to take
The Lord takes souls this is true
But I pray my soul he'll take through
Accompany me to the greener grass
Where nerves are no longer as weak as glass

Same conversation every day
But this moments passing anyway
So let's fill it with some meaning
While the day is still receding
These motions may be shallow
But we won't let the day lie fallow
For we've seen the weeds that grow
And it's enough for us to know
That a charade is better still
Than a moment left unfilled

My heart's moving with the violin
That slow sliding takes me back again
That kind of music tunes up with my soul
Perfectly captures my own eb and flow
Anger smoothly flows to sadness
Then moves right back, some kind of madness
Self hate mingles with condemnation
This music captures that sensation
So let me sit and contemplate these things
As the bow moves gently on those strings

Often have I pondered
The places I have wandered
And it's where the storms are stronger
That often stay with me.

In the heart of Minnesota
The ground will shake below ya
As the thunder rocks the Earth.

And the rain beats down in Cameroon
As strong as a monsoon
You'll hear it a mile away.

In places such as these a man will learn his place
He'll feel himself at nature's grace
As he's exposed as small.

When the sky grows dark
Deep within his soul he'll hark
And the creations of man will fade
For the Earth something bigger has made.

Lonesome the woodsman walked
And by his own mine was he mocked
It'd been weeks but felt like years
Since his mother's tongue did he hear
It's the kind of thing that cracks the brain
Makes the woodsman go insane
Any language here would be
The tongue of Euchee or of Cherokee
But Alexander Long a fugitive was made
When the Euchee he'd betrayed
The scar upon his bald head told
Of an Euchee warrior brave and bold
Who struck the vicious blow
And showed the hatred that would grow
Until Long did his crime commit
And violate the peaceful writ
And now an outlaw Long'd been made
And in Appalachia would stay he
In the home of the Cherokee.

It's the chaos that makes the orderly
And this I tell you solemnly
It's the crooked man that draws the straightest
The crazy eyes that make the greatest.
Beauty is from ugly spawned
The frog prince in a wild pond
The genius with his untamed hair
Wright Brothers with their crazy dare
An artist with a broken mind
Led out of chaos by this kind