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Song Lyrics & Credits
When
my travels make me weary, And
my vision starts to fade. I
know I love her, she loves me clearly, And
it tastes just like homemade. Drift
me down lazy river, Hang
me ‘till I’ve dried. Give
me the strength to give her- Back
all the tears she’s cried. I
found a heart, Lord help me not to break it. If
the candle starts to fade. I
know this heart, this heart can take it, can taste it. And
it tastes, just like homemade. Drift
me down lazy river, Hang
me ‘till I’ve dried. Give
me the strength to give her- Back
all the tears she’s cried. Will
I ever find the strength to stay? Before
she finds the strength to go her way…away? When
my travels make me weary, And
my vision starts to fade. Just
bring her, bring her near me. Make
it taste just like homemade. Drift
me down lazy river, Hang
me ‘till I’ve dried. Give
me the strength to give her- Back
all the tears she’s cried. Your
love, it tastes just like…home. ©
Mark Weinstock, 2002 NY,
NY start spreading the news. So
nice you say it twice, but then she’ll sing the blues. I
said yes but there was no way to stay. Went
looking for myself and lost my way. I
said yes, then the pages started turning, I
meant yes, but something changed. I
know yes, that the bridges are burning. And
this yes, may never come back again. So
babe I’m coming home, gonna stay for a while. Because
your voice on the phone, can’t beat your smile And
I said yes, but I got a gypsy soul. When
the fog horn blows, I’ll have to roll, roll. I
said yes, then the tables started turning, I
meant yes, but something has changed. I
know yes, now the bridges are burning. And
this yes, may never come back again. I
know yes, some things are meant to me. Even
if they were never meant to be this way. If
sometimes yes, it’s best to set it free. Why
does it follow me, even when I walk away?
I
said yes, then my stomach started turning, I
meant yes, but something has changed. I
know yes, now the bridges are burning. And
this yes, may never come back again. ©
Mark Weinstock, 2003 I
was born a slave, with nothing to my name. Spent
a hundred years planting seeds before my harvest came. I
don’t have much money, but I’ve got children with children of their own. And
I beat death seven times just so I could build a home. And now it’s the harvest. The
harvest has come. And now it’s the harvest. The
harvest has come. I
was the only one to survive the war. There
was no comfort for me in the arms that were no more. So
started a new life, my wife taught me to love again. Named
my kids after my lost lives and plant every seed for them. And now it’s the harvest. The
harvest has come. And now it’s the harvest. The
harvest has come. Though
I was born a slave and lost a war you won’t hear me complain. As
long as you bless my children and promise that they’ll never know the same. Bless
my children to their late years and let them age with grace. With
the laugh lines of a thousand smiles etched across their face. And
when their cup runs empty, let it be without thirst. Let
their very last breath of life taste as sweet as the first. Let them see the harvest.
The harvest come. Let them see the harvest.
The harvest come. ©
Mark Weinstock, 2003 Inspired
by the life of Zaidah Herschel Wise Share Your
Fire (Puddle Me) The
mountains pierced the sky until it bled And
painted the canyon’s rock sunset red. Winter
and night united over my head. Come
share your fire with me. If
I’m thrown from my thrown with no home left to roam. Chilled
and spilled, soaked and joked right to the bone. Too
cold, too old, too bold to sleep all alone. Come
share your fire with me. Cuddle me puddle me into a
peace. That’s better then dreaming
and sure is better than sleep. Smother me naked in satin and
fleece.
Come share your fire with
me. But
if one day I should find that my life is a curse. And
should look inside your eyes and see yours is worse. Somehow
I’ll find some spark to warm you first. I
will share my fire with you. I’ll cuddle you puddle you
into a peace. That’s better then dreaming
and sure is better than sleep. I’ll smother you naked in
satin and fleece. I’ll bring you tea with
honey and feed you the finest feast. I will bathe you in bubbles
‘till all of your troubles have ceased. Stay within you ‘till the
dew rises in the east. Cuddle me puddle me into a
peace. That’s better then dreaming
and sure is better than sleep. Smother me naked in satin and
fleece.
Come share your fire with
me. I will share my fire with
you. Come share your fire with
me. ©
Mark Weinstock, 2000 Written
on a cold, cold night of camping alone in Utah, between shows while on tour. Time
will tell on me, If I don’t use it well, shame on me. Words
with time, can’t take them back, once they’re left behind, they unwind. So… I’m taking the long
way home, the long way home. I’m taking
the long way home. When
the wind blew against your dress, it clung to your soul. Like
when it blew the flame out of the burning coal. So
I follow footsteps in the sand, made by no foot of man. The
first time they buried me, I didn’t even flinch. I
was too busy just filling my cup, to know there was more to time than speeding
it up. Too
busy eating it up. So… I’m taking the long
way home, the long way home. I’m taking
the long way home. Let
them talk about me, I’ll swear that it’s true. I
know that they would do the same if they knew what I knew If
I could live just one more day, I know what I’d do. I’d
waste my precious time with you…
Taking… The long way home,
the long way home. Meet me on the long
way home. ©
Mark Weisntock, 2003 Fair maiden of Gan Aden,
please turn your face for my eyes to see. The only wish that I beg of
thee, is just one chance to see your beauty. Please don’t take this away
from me. I’ve
traveled through fire through water and clay. Tomorrow
became the property of yesterday. They
said that a maiden as beautiful as thee. Would
never look at a hunchback as broken as me. That’s
what they said to me. Fair maiden of Gan Aden,
please turn your face for my eyes to see. The only wish that I beg of
thee, is just one chance to see your beauty. Please don’t take this away
from me. In
heaven, each soul gets to meet his bride. Then
forgets what he’s seen when he is born on the other side. My
darling, I saw you were hunched as could be. I
yelled “Give her her beauty! Give her load to me! Break
my back, but leave me with this…memory.” That’s
what they did for me. Fair maiden of Gan Aden,
please turn your face for my eyes to see. The only wish that I beg of
thee, is just one chance to see your beauty. Please don’t take this
away… © Mark Weinstock, 2001 A
city cries, “They terrorized my skies, Hijacked
the plane to turn my towers into rain.” Bless
the folk, who fought fire but lost to smoke. And
bless the soul who tries not to hate ...though
the hate is taking its toll. Tomorrow
knows what the white ash blows. Will
the winds cry war or a peaceful breeze ease once more? Bless
the lives, living and giving for the cries to rise. Bless
the soul who tries not to hate ...though
the hate is taking its toll. Because
somewhere, someone’s got to refuse to hate, someway. Though
somewhere someone still celebrates this date, dark day. No
one knows how it’s done, but somewhere someone has begun. Bless
the one… Bless
the one whose blessings have begun. And
bless the land... A
blessing for every grain of sand. A
blessing for every helping hand. A
blessing for the strength to stand. And
bless the soul who tries not to hate. ©
Mark Weinstock, 2003 Written
on 9-11 while my roommate was waiting to hear whether or not his father, who
worked in the towers, survived. He
did. Many of his friends and colleagues
did not. While
the proud magnolia wears a pink blossom gown. She
knows that leaves change colour and fall to the ground. But
nothing is ever lost, if the lesson is found. So
naked she dances until spring comes around. Because…Caterpillars disappear
and turn into butterflies,
Rain turns into rainbows
when the sun shower dries. And there are no good-byes. The
empty glass glows and still smells like wine. From
the last poet who passed at the peak of her climb. Still
we are touched by the tickle of her ancient rhyme For
her love and her laughter flow forever through time. Because…Caterpillars
disappear and turn into butterflies, Rain turns into rainbows
when the sun shower dries. The fruit falls from the tree,
but new seeds shall rise. And there are no good-byes. You
can catch the perfect snowflake, but you have to watch it melt. And
the blue jay will sing its way, far away down south. The
last kiss you ever loved will always linger in your mouth. It
became part of you and you became everything you’ve ever felt. Because…Caterpillars
disappear and turn into butterflies, Rain turns into rainbows
when the sun shower dries. Your fruit fell from my
tree, but new seeds shall rise. And there are no good-byes. © Mark Weinstock, 2000 In
loving memory of a poet, Stacey
Levitt (1977-1995) The
world is spinning ‘round…There it goes by again. Because
you are the world and the world is you, my friend. What’s
going on? What’s going wrong? Come on and shed your light. But
don’t bare that weight alone with a heavy tone, be free yourself to make it
right. Whether
you’re high as high, or broke down on your knees. The
world will change just like the breeze. When the world slows down,
for the clouds to catch up Dance with me, if you
please. When the world slows down,
for the clouds to catch up I am the breeze, I am the
breeze. The
world is spinning ‘round, so you better build it well With
a love to love, a cause to cause, a
find to find and a good story to tell. Though
we build to last like promises, like broken glass, Just
like the shadow that you cast, all this too shall pass. And
if your world of sand gets washed out to the seas. The
world will change just like the breeze. When the world slows down,
for the clouds to catch up Dance with me, if you
please. When the world slows down,
for the clouds to catch up I am the breeze, I am the
breeze. The
world is spinning ‘round, and we’re just passing through that drop of dew Could
have been a tear, the rain or a water fall, that’s all We’re
just passing through this body, this gift we can hold on too tight Or
let our souls pass through, then feed the earth that fed you the body that shed
you When
your dust is dust become a wave, become the breeze become A
flower, devour the sun, make love to the humming bird and bees and The
world will change just like the breeze. © Mark Weinstock, 2002 This
song has gone through many transformations since it was first written in a
stream of consciousness called “Renaissance”. When played live, the audience makes the sounds of the breeze
every time it’s mentioned…thanks. Last of the longhairs, the
only heir no care for gold. Traded in his fire, for a
place to grow old. The
very first longhair dragon flew in from the Eastern seas. A
million eyes watched him take the throne. Until
he cut his braid and brought the kingdom to its knees. Just
so he could stargaze for once alone. Last of the longhairs, the
only heir no care for gold. Traded in his fire, for a
place to grow old. The
four winds howled “Another long hair dragon has been seen, The
bravest ever in the land!” But
when a million eyes criticized his queen, He
cut his hair to keep her hand. Last of the longhairs, the
only heir no care for gold. Traded in his fire, for a
place to grow old. The
very last longhair dragon never cut his braid. A
million eyes watched to see him soar. But
he had no wings and no fire was made. A
million eyes forgot what they were cheering for. Last of the longhairs, the
only heir no care for gold. Traded in his fire, for a
place to grow old. Last of the longhairs, the
only heir no care to roam. Traded in his fire, so a
million tired eyes could go home. ©
Mark Weinstock, 2001 |