All the words are void for fractured eyes;
You don’t have to die to remember why you’re living.
Re-adjust your line.
Fortune’s autograph looping through the winter.

Here you go again,
Thinking that it matters.
Here you go again.

Hesitation cries for all he’s lost.
Gently waves a hand at sad imaginations.
A creaking, creased-up night.
Fold your blue around, stay hidden from his line of sight.

Here you go again,
Thinking that it matters.
Here you go again.

Many fell today for nothingness.
Many rose to find the sky a little wider.
I sent it just in time:
Looking upward now, you hear every vesper.

All that we are.
All we could be.
All that we are.

Was there a time before the skin fell off of courage,
And these dish rag hands?
Was there a time before
We made pastel pictures from every reprimand?
Brushed up well, Igloo Annie,
"Push came to shove"
Shove came to fall.

Breathing out balloons and blue bubbles;
Can't keep that girl high for long.

Wait for a green light,
Waited a lifetime now.
Wait to be Autumned away.

Once in a while
All the honest soldiers say what you mean to say.
The space in between you and your reflection
Seems too far away.
Oh, where's you voice gone, Annie?
The harder the road, the broader the smile.

Breathing in you and your double...
Can't keep that girl from her song

Wait for a green light,
Waited a lifetime now.
Wait to be Autumned away.

We'll pretend we hold the forest,
We'll stand regal like the pine,
We have tried to be good soldiers
Labouring under the sunshine.
And all the little notes will carry us,
Spare the bruises on our spine.

And what a thing to do forever.

Can you see the fire?
Can you hear its song?
Can you flicker in the secret breeze
Where the melodies belong?
And we, the voiceless,
Sang the loudest all along.

And what a thing to do forever.

Steal the canopies for shelter,
Weave the branches for a bed.
Lay your words upon the fallen leaves
Where they'll sleep once they've been said.
Read the stories of the quiet stars
In a deep blue overhead.

And what a thing to do forever.

In the half light,
In a mirror blue,
All the stones glow,
All the dreams see-through.
Trace the outline,
Watch the entwining hue.

I'll wait up all night,
I'll see the true flight wandering by,
I'll hear the twilight,
I'll touch the warm soil of July
Till sunrise calls.

When the storm comes,
When the tempers boom,
I will dance on
Through the air's perfume,
I will curl around
The blushing rose's bloom.

I'll wait up all night,
I'll see the true flight wandering by,
I'll hear the twilight,
I'll touch the warm soil of July,
Till sunrise calls.

We held our days like breath in water,
We were cold, we grew still.
Somewhere in sighs and scraps of paper,
We pulled the skies to the ground.

It's our tonight, it's our tomorrow,
We'll overwrite and underline.
You need a guide, I need a morning.
We lost our stride...

But when the day is done,
You'll always know.
We'll always know.

To shake the remnants of mistrust
And throw them to the wind,
To breathe inside the tangles, taste the dust,
Trace the words of silence,
Trace the lines and burns.

"And be awake, they're here!
I hear them coming.
Won't be afraid;
Stand beside me and take my hand.
We have forgiven what they can't forget."

We spun a bottle: truth or dare
And he watched me in the glow.
I told the truth of how I missed his everywhere,
Missed all I didn't know -
Digging wells after the fire.

"And be awake, they're here!
I hear them coming.
Won't be afraid;
Stand beside me and take my hand.
We have forgiven what they can't forget."

And all awhile, they pale to grey,
Twirl the fabric as they go.
We turned the tables and we turned away
To watch the moment grow.
We watched all our moments grow.

We have forgiven.

I walked in on shaking legs
Hurry away my mind begs

But I decide to leap
Wishing I was sound asleep

Like that last step in the dark
Go ahead do it from the heart

I quietly begin my song,
With luck it will not last too long

After a slow beginning I grow and grow
I smile and soon somehow I know

Their faces are warm like a hot cup of tea
I know they see the improvement in me

They applaud and they smile
Now it’s time to wait for a while

the musician on stage in front of a

rack of shoes looks like you,
although it may be

the fog of the free beer.
It smells like the 70s and even though I
never experienced it firsthand,

the red velvet pants on the rack next to me
take me back in time.
Surrounded by a trio of girls in striped shirts –
the three blind mice –
**** on lollipops
and there are too many jean jackets to count.

I can’t stop thinking about my arms around your neck
on a park bench

let’s go to Niagara Falls, or Pompeii

there are some soaps in the shape of fingers at the store next door
and I can wrap them around your arms
while we listen to Born Ruffians
and they’ll sing:

It ***** when you find someone
but they don’t find you.

I'm always playing music
Alone on my guitar
I don't think I'll be famous
I'll never get that far
I play because I love it
I go from bar to bar
I sure don't do it for the money
I'm living in my car

I'm not sure if I'll make it
The right person must hear
The music that I'm making
Must ring true within their ear
In the clubs that I am playing
They serve shots and luke warm  beer
So the ear for which I'm looking
Is not to close to here

If I wanna be famous
And give my life a lift
There's just one way to do it
And that's by datingTaylor Swift
We'll hook up and we'll break up
I won't be with her long
Then she'll put out a new album
And she'll put me in a song
The only way to make it
And to give my life a lift
Is to go out and start dating
That singer....Taylor Swift

I sit home and I practice
In the front seat not the back
Remember, I'm living in my vehicle
Beside the railroad track
I don't have much there with me
My clothes fit in a sack
Maybe one day I will make it
And I'll give fame a crack

I may not be a Kennedy
Or , a big time movie player
But, I sure as hell look better than
That pretty boy John Mayer
I can't write my own music
I just cover other songs
The streets of fame are littered
By folks like me who don't belong
But one day, I'll just make it
And I'll prove them agents wrong
One day I will be famous
I'll be the topic of a song

If I wanna be famous
And give my life a lift
There's just one way to do it
And that's by dating Taylor Swift
We'll hook up and we'll break up
I won't be with her long
Then she'll put out a new album
And she'll put me in a song
The only way to make it
And to give my life a lift
Is to go out and start dating
That singer....Taylor Swift

Daily walks would lead me down

The tourist laden streets

Where people from all walks of life

Would congregate and meet

Buskers, singers, ne'er do wells

Would work throughout the throngs

But in back of Giannis restaurant

Sat an old man sharing songs

He didn't sing so much as talk

His voice was hoarse with age

But a milk box and an orange crate

Were his table, chair and stage

His instrument, an old guitar

Scarred, battle worn and black

His guitar strap was as old as he

An old potato sack

He sat and played to nobody

He just let the words be there

His audience could be a hundred deep

Sometimes it could be air

His music was his lifes blood

It was everything he had

So he shared it with the people

And the people....they were glad

The tourists, stayed away though

They were more attracted by the flair

Of the buskers and the jugglers

Not this man who wasn't there

He never left to join the crowd

And to sell his songs to those

Who really wanted nothing more

Than to hear some manufactured prose

The people who he played to

Were just others from the street

They worked the bars and restaurants

And at night they'd find a seat

In front of this old bluesman

Sitting by his orange box

Playing his guitar by candle light

Taking in his songs and talks

He sang songs from the heart, I guess

About those who'd he'd met

He'd sing about a dozen songs

That would constitue a set

Then he'd open up his silver flask

And ******* two gulps down

"This here's just my medicine"

"My past lives just to drown"

He sang of Truck Stop Beauty Queens

And of Walks out in the park

He sang of people living life

Not just hiding in the dark

He sang of things so real you'd see

Their pictures in your mind

He'd sing of places and of things

That others would not find

But tourists, they just stayed away

Near the buskers blowing fire

While yards away this old man sat

Just like an old town cryer

His audience would leave a bit

of change for their free show

He never asked for anything

For this was his row to ***

At two though when the street shut down

He closed his show down too

But he always had an extra song

A special one for you

His music came from in his heart

He shared it without fear

For once it left his throat it was

A sound that was so dear

The tourists went to hotels

Once the buskers all went home

But he just moved his crate and box

He slept out here alone

He sang his songs of characters

Who helped make us his life

His words were sometimes gentle

While others cut you like a knife

His world was just that orange crate

And his music helped unfurl

The melodies in this mans mind

It helped him share his world

He knew some things and people that

Would take rather than give

He sang about the street people

Because among them he did live

His home was just a cardboard box

Behind Giannis bar

And if you want to see a real good show

You don't have to go far

It's just a little beaten path

Away from tourist fare

Where this little, old, shy

Bluesman sings to hundreds or the air..