When Grandma was old,
what stories she told.
She knew every ryhme,
every verse every time.

I'd sit in her lap,
and say Grandma please.
Please tell me another
another one please.

OH LORD, OH LORD.
How can this be.
I get home to be assaulted by my TV.
OH LORD, OH LORD
They are only children.
This can't be happening, not again.
OH LORD, OH LORD
The children, the children.
Oh Lord the children.
What have they done?
OH LORD, OH LORD
The parents, the parents.
Oh Lord the parents.
Told to go home without their children.
OH LORD, OH LORD,
The shooter, the shooter.
A torn up soul. A torn up soul?
OH LORD, OH LORD
The horror, the horror.
What's to happen.
OH LORD, OH LORD
OH LORD, What's to happen now?
And the President cries.

I have a cat that loves me so,
why it is I do not know.

I am not famous, wealthy, or wise,
but I can see it in her eyes.
She shows her belly for me to pet,
I have never tired of it yet.

Her body's so warm and her fur is so soft,
without her love I would be so lost.
She stretches and yawns, then plunks at my book,
till I lay it down and give her a look.

She turns her back as if to say,
Why do that when we could play.
Sometimes when I feel so low,
here she comes to let me know.

That I am to her, and always will be,
the only person she loves to see.
I have a cat, I love her so,
Why it is, I think I know.

I heard of a woman who lived in the hollow.
Her screams were so sad you could feel her sorrow.
There's a house in the woods, just north of the creek.
They say she still lives there, but she never speaks.

Her husband came home drunken and mad.
The baby was crying, what he done was real bad.
Some nights you can see her wading the creek.
She splashes the water; her baby she seeks.

They say you can hear, on clear starry nights.
A small baby crying, and a poor mothers fright.
But don't stay to long; he mourns for them too.
He walks through these woods, looking for you.

They say that he hung himself the very next day.
And a pact with the devil was what he had made.
To get back his child, he must do the devils bidding.
And he walks through these woods, taking the living.

Music is like an ocean,
each ebb and tide a different emotion.
And down below, in the deep,
a little of my soul I reap.
A part if me I thought asleep,
is woken with each wave that peeks.
A song, a line, a memory in time.
I pull them in on my fishing line.
Some notes flow smoothly with the tide.
Some notes break hard, a real rough ride.
Some songs bring joy, some bring pain,
but I am hardly ever maimed.
And when my compass, I do question,
Music shows me which direction.
So when my Captain sets sail for home,
I hope I leave a pleasant tone.

In youth I looked into the sun,
I never saw the shadow.
The morning light broke on my face,
as I played in the meadow.
And life was mostly kind,
I never thought to look behind,
Never thinking of the time.
And, so it was I passed my days,
basking in the sunshine.
Then one day, I looked away,
and I saw the shadow.
I thought time, was just a line,
that never moved.....It had though.
As I stood in the shadow,
I became aware of time.
They say in the end,
it's only a wink of an eye.
So, I stand in the shadow
of my yesterdays,
clinging to my memories.
My life nearly done,
But I will not run.
For to have a shadow,
You must first, stand in the sun.

I am old and must ask forgiveness, for I have been asleep to long.  In youth, I sang
a peaceful song, But now, those days are forever gone. In youth I took the words
to heart. Yet, somehow I never played the part.  Was it, my words were never heard,
or have I now become a part of the herd?

If one man stands against the river, what chance has he to deliver.
If two men stand against the river, twice the chance he has to deliver.

In time, we fought our brothers, with all our might, for a chance to equal rights. Just to be
again enslaved, by the almighty wage; and again to be caught in the bankers cage. But money
buys many things, silver, gold, and poverty. Our brothers south have empty mouths,
And I have lost my teeth......

If one man stands against the river, what chance has he to deliver.
If two men stand against the river, twice the chance he has to deliver.

Have I forgotten what I was to do?  Or perhaps my dreams were trampled by the few.
So a word of wisdom, I give to you.  

The man that holds his brothers head, beneath the water for greed, will be swept down the river,
Eventually.

This world I have cherished.
This world has been kind.
This world can be beautiful.
But it would never be mine.

I have shook with the thunder.
I have tasted earths wine.
I saw the miracle of new life.
Yet it was all lost in time.

I have sailed the morning tide.
I have walked through misty valleys.
I have seen the pale moon, and
I have walked the darkest alleys.

Although these things did catch my eye.
God's hand I took, for the rest was a lie.

There he stood against the world,
a boy not yet a man.
In a world that gave him lies,
he did not understand.

He lived his life without a thought
of what would then come after.
A life without a loving heart.
A life without much laughter.

Then one day a young girl came
and told him of the truth.
The boy just sat and thought a while
and then said "Where's the proof."

The young girl said there is no proof
in faith you must believe.
She pulled a Bible from her purse
and told the boy to read.

The boy then cried for quit some time,
at last his heart was filled,
not with hate but with joy,
his fate at last was sealed.

A baby boy this day was born,
His life for him He'd given.
Now the boy would live again,
For all his sins forgiven.

Now in the park an old man sits,
a Bible in his hand,and to the girl
with tears in her eyes, he say's,
"Don't worry there's a plan.

The days have passed without fanfare,
as I quietly stood by.
I no longer dream of youthful things,
though they linger in my mind.
Most days have been pleasant,
Yet nothing great my life.
I went from child to wife to mother,
In only a blink of the eye.
Now children they have gone their way.
And husband has no words...



But silence has it's place in life,
   a moment undisturbed.



Days spent can not be bought again,
and it's not for youth I long.
I wish only to be remembered
When I am dead and gone.
Remembered not as Plato,
No I am not so rare.
I hope only to be remembered
as a whisper in the air.
A life loved and not forgotten,
by only those who cared.

My love, you have killed my heart.
But that my love,was just the start.
You went on to **** my soul,
and you were so very, very cold.

You, my love, lived in this house,
and only pretended to be my spouse.
A life ago you made me a promise,
But, you my love, were not honest.

Things can never be the same,
and I will give you back your name.
Just leave me with my broken heart,
And, I will find a place to start.

I, my love, will never be the same.
You have left me with the blame.
But, I will slowly pickup the pieces,
And day by day I will iron the creases.

I, my love, will live again,
A new life I shall begin.
And out of the ashes of our love.
I will become a snow white dove.

I had a dream, but it was not mine.
I drew my life, I stayed in the lines.
I played it well, this game of chance.
I even had a little romance.

I finished school, I kissed a boy,
And when it was time, I was not coy.
I had some kids, I raised them well.
I trained them to be like everyone else.

I had a husband, a dog, a cat.
It was a dream, that is a fact.
But it was not mine, and that was fine.
I tell myself that all the time.

As I sat, the subway groaned into motion.
Across from me , a face without emotion.
We sat in silence, the old woman and me.
Her face was worn with the struggles she'd seen.
Her body was frail from a life to hard,
It was clear to me she had played her last card.
As I looked at the woman, I could see in her eyes,
ghostly memories of people and days gone by.
I gave her a smile, but she lowered her head,
As if to say, " Don't ask... don't ask about the dead".

Spring
Dew drops on the grass.
Mornings dampness soon to pass.
Sun breaks through the clouds.

Winter
Wind blows cold and hard.
Snow drifts high along a fence.
Trees are trimmed in white.

Beautiful eyes,
He had beautiful eyes....
That's what I remember,
His beautiful eyes.
They looked into me,
his beautiful eyes...
My soul I bared,to
those beautiful eyes.
I was left wide open,
No defenses...
He had such beautiful eyes.

I am not now who I was before.
When I was young I knew the score.
To me there was just black or white.
But now I know what's worth the fight.

I've learned that things aren't what they seem.
The *** on the street is not really a fiend.
He was not always drunken on *****;
After all is that the life you would choose?

It pains me to think that I was so sure
of how life should be; everything pure.
But people are not made of brick,
and sometimes life can make you sick.

In youth you do not know it, it is something you must learn.
You see life is full of secrets, and this one you must earn.
You see children, life is sometimes only grey,
And in the end, we are all made of the same clay.

In this little room I write.
I write my thoughts so dear.
It is not for you I write.
I write mostly of my fears.

So in this little room I write,
a thousand thoughts and fears.
Out loud I can not say them,
for they would bring me tears.

It is at night I mostly write,
my mind won't let me rest.
So I put pen to paper,
and out my thoughts must crest.

I do not assume to know you,
or put you to the test.
For I am just a simple girl,
and my mind is quite a mess.

I rest my eyes in shades of green.
I plant my feet in the good earth,
and listen to the pace of the river.
I was only a moments breath,
yet it would last forever.

When I am gone with the dust
and the wind, we shall be
together again, this earth and I.
Can you show me a dream,
a dream better than mine.

Heaven was busy today.
Twenty-eight were killed, they say.
Hearts were broken today.
Twenty were children, they say.
For all of them we pray.
The President cried today.
What else is there to say.
What else is there to say.

Spring
River cold as ice.
Runs swiftly on its journey,
Down the mountain side.

I dream of days when warfare fades
and men put down their blades.
And the ghost of war that came before
lay silent in their graves.