Song Lyric Group Story

Comment

Comment by Robert P. Meyer Jr. on February 4, 2012 at 4:30pm

"I never thought that a love could be so strong
it could ever make me, think about leaving home
I can't help myself your lovin bout to drive me mad
one more night like last night, I might have to pack my bags
bout to make me leave home boy

Got my mind so
gettin together with this love, boy it just ain't right
I ain't got the strength to turn a good lovin loose
But I never met a man in my life who
could whoop it to me like you do
Bout to make me leave home boy

Got a taste of forbidden fruit
And I can't turn it loose
What is this good thing you carry around with you
that makes a girl want to act a fool

Got that love technique that really really cracks me up
Seeing you once or twice a week, boy it just ain't enough"  ( Bonnie Raitt)

Comment by Robert P. Meyer Jr. on January 31, 2012 at 10:15am

"I woke up this morning... I woke up this morning...
Woke up this morning, with the monday morning blues.

I couldn't hardly find... I couldn't hardly find...
I couldn't hardly find, my monday morning shoes.

Monday morning blues... Monday morning blues...
Monday morning blues, searched all through my bones.

Monday morning blues... Monday morning blues...
Monday morning blues, made me leave my home.

I've been laying in jail... I've been laying in jail...
I've been laying in jail, six long weeks today.

Lord, tomorrow morning... Lord, tomorrow morning...
Lord, tomorrow morning, gonna be my trial day.

Lord, I asked the judge... Well, I asked the judge...
Well, I asked the judge, what might be my crime.

Get a pick and shoveL.. Get a pick and shovel...
Get a pick and shovel, let's go down in the mine.

That's the only time... That's the only time...
That's the only time, I ever felt like cryin'.

Well, my heart struck sorrow... Well, my heart struck sorrow...
Well, my heart struck sorrow, tears come rolling down.

I woke up this morning... I woke up this morning...
Woke up this morning, with the monday morning blues"  

(Mississippi John Hurt)

Comment by Maryrose Orlans on January 31, 2012 at 12:01am

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans

Illinois Central,

Monday mornin' rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders

Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the south-bound odyssey the train pulls out at Kankakee and rolls along past houses farms and fields
Passin' trains that have no names and freight yards full of old black men and the grave-yards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning America, how are you?

Say don't you know me, I'm your native son

I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans and I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done (Arlo Guthrie)

Comment by wiffledust on January 30, 2012 at 9:33pm

everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance

everybody thinks it's true (paul simon)

Comment by wiffledust on January 30, 2012 at 9:32pm

sidebar: do you have a webcam in my house? i just listened to that an hour ago!

Comment by Robert P. Meyer Jr. on January 30, 2012 at 5:13pm

"Take the last train to Clarksville,
And I'll meet you at the station.
You can be be there by four thirty,
'Cause I made your reservation.
Don't be slow, oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!

'Cause I'm leavin' in the morning
And I must see you again
We'll have one more night together
'Til the morning brings my train.
And I must go, oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!
And I don't know if I'm ever coming home.

Take the last train to Clarksville.
I'll be waiting at the station.
We'll have time for coffee flavored kisses
And a bit of conversation.
Oh... Oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!

Take the last train to Clarksville,
Now I must hang up the phone.
I can't hear you in this noisy
Railroad station all alone.
I'm feelin' low. Oh, no, no, no!
Oh, no, no, no!
And I don't know if I'm ever coming home.

Take the last train to Clarksville,
Take the last train to Clarksville,"   (The Monkees via Boyce and Hart)

Comment by Robert P. Meyer Jr. on January 24, 2012 at 9:12am

"Well, he went down to dinner in his Sunday best
Excitable boy, they all said
And he rubbed the pot roast all over his chest
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy

He took in the four a.m. show at the Clark
Excitable boy, they all said
And he bit the usherette's leg in the dark
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy

He took little Susie to the Junior Prom
Excitable boy, they all said
and he raped her and killed her, then he took her home
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
After ten long years they let him out of the Home
Excitable boy, they all said
And he dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy"   (Warren Zevon)

Comment by Maryrose Orlans on January 23, 2012 at 3:49pm

You make me laugh

Cause your eyes they light the night

They look right through me

You bashful boy

You're hiding something sweet

Please give it to me yeah, to me

Talk to me some more

You don't have to go

You're the Poetry Man

You make things all rhyme

You are a genie

All I ask for is your smile

Each time I rub the lamp

When I am with you

I have a giggling teen-age crush

Then I'm a sultry vamp

Talk to me some more

You don't have to go

You're the Poetry Man

You make things all right

So once again

It's time to say so long

And so recall the cull of life

You're going home now

Home's that place somewhere you go each day

To see your wife

Talk to me some more

You don't have to go

You're the Poetry Man

You make things all rhyme

(Phoebe Snow)

Comment by Robert P. Meyer Jr. on January 23, 2012 at 11:48am

"Down by the river junior year
Walking with my girl,
And we came upon a place
There in the tall grass where a couple
Had been making love
And left the mark of their embrace.
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."
She said to me, "Let's do the same."
And still I taste her kisses
And her freckles in the sun
When I play the poet game.

A young man down in hill country
In the year of '22
Went to see his future bride.
She lived in a rough old shack
That poverty blew through.
She invited him inside.
She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,
She could only offer him bread and her name -
Grandpa said that it was the best gift
A fella ever had
And he taught me the poet game.

I had a friend who drank too much
And played too much guitar -
And we sure got along.
Reel-to-reels rolled across
The country near and far
With letters poems and songs..
But these days he don't talk to me
And he won't tell me why.
I miss him every time i say his name.
I don't know what he's doing
Or why our friendship died
While we played the poet game.

The fall rain was pounding down
On an old New Hampshire mill
And the river wild and high.
I was talking to her while leaves blew down
Like a sudden chill -
There was wildness in her eyes.
We made love like we'd been waiting
All of our lives for this -
Strangers know no shame -
But she had to leave at dawn
And with a sticky farewell kiss
Left me to play the poet game.

I watched my country turn into
A coast-to-coast strip mall
And I cried out in a song:
If we could do all that in thirty years,
Then please tell me you all -
Why does good change take so long?
Why does the color of your skin
Or who you choose to love
Still lead to such anger and pain?
And why do I think it's any help
For me to still dream of
Playing the poet game?

Sirens wail above the fields -
Another soul gone down -
Another Sun about to rise.
I've lost track of my mistakes,
Like birds they fly around
And darken half of my skies.
To all of those I've hurt -
I pray you'll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
So many things I didn't see,
With my eyes turned inside,
Playing the poet game.

I walk out at night to take a leak
Underneath the stars -
Oh yeah that's the life for me.
There's Orion and the Pleiades
And I guess that must be Mars -
All as clear as we long to be.
I've sung what I was given -
Some was bad and some was good.
I never did know from where it came
And if I had it all to do again
I am not sure I would
Play the poet game."       (Greg Brown)

Comment by Maryrose Orlans on January 19, 2012 at 3:32pm

When I met you in the restaurant

You could tell I was no debutante

You asked me what's my pleasure

A movie or a measure?

I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming

Dreaming is free

I don't want to live on charity

Pleasure's real or is it fantasy?

Reel to reel is living rarity

People stop and stare at me

We just walk on by - we just keep on dreaming

Feet feet, walking a two mile

Meet meet, meet me at the turnstile

I never met him,

I'll never forget him
Dream dream, even for a little while

Dream dream, filling up an idle hour

Fade away, radiate
I sit by and watch the river flow

I sit by and watch the traffic go

Imagine something of your very own

Something you can have and hold
I'd build a road in gold just to have some dreaming

Dreaming is free Dreaming

Dreaming is free

Dreaming

Dreaming is free

(Blondie)

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