Time to go all in
Again
And again
I guess when you live like this
It never really ends
Giving
Pushing
Partaking
Hoping
Praying
The troubles worth having
But not without
Question
Relative
Minor
To our triumphant, major
We hold steady
Brace for changes ahead
Unknown
A life in the arts
We have bled
For every inch we have grown
I have had this car for years
Made it through many laughs
Hard fought tears
Somehow these metal and plastic walls
Have converted into more of a hollowed hall
Celebration of years worked
Half worked
Double time
But when it starts to go south
Off the linear path
It’s hard to decide
When to let go
To let the old vessel
Stroll alone
Down the final road
No more strategy
No more money
It’s the end of the road
When can I decide
These hollowed halls
Have lived through thin truths
Thick lies
But in the end
Life goes on
It’s the memories not the material
That I will take from this world
–
The city life is for the living
Night becomes day
Day becomes night
With no differentiation
Souls worn in
Changed with no hesitation
The city builds one day after the other
The great manifestation
I will go to the fields
Farms and lakes
While the city drives away
Never stopping to say
Hello or goodbye
It simply runs
All day
All night
Studio hours
Layered with contoured flowers
Decisions scoured
Around and over hours
Speakers pushing vibrations
Ears in full salutation
Summed with amps
Knobs awaiting determination
We apply ourselves
Throughout the daytime minutes
–
I hope
For more synchronicity
Pulling together songs
In artistic creation
You know I don’t eat that anymore
The smell of processed meats
Leaking through the cracked door
Orange yellow eggs smashed in
Not quite sure if it the slightest smell of plastic
That did me in
Logs of meat hammered out
Full of sodium bicarbonates
The thoughts just frustrates
But on Sunday mornings the family still enjoys
The processed meats
Made from recycled toys
The morning rests soft
Easy speaking and waking slow
The summer breeze rustles
Through the soft flower leaves
Change has its way of breaking me
Lowering my tolerance for what is coming
Arise to life’s challenges yet
One by one
I hope my buffer for new will not come undone
I have heard stories of burn outs
Giving up
I know that the roads we create
Are not easy or clear
But what we do
We do for love
My dear
Sudden change is what we fear most
Life’s swelling waves
In a small fishing boat
Bail out the water
Keeping our heads above the sea
It’s a commitment we made
A long time ago
Over a cup of Darjeeling Tea
Everything I need is right here in front of me
My hands, eyes, hope, desire
Everything I can use to bring myself higher
Hard work is the barrier
Constraining my own ethic
I feel that I have now realized this simple truth
What you focus on grows
What you forget about goes away with old
So I must refocus on what is in front of me
All the tools I need
Are surrounding me
Asking me
I will answer
Summer wanes
Like an early bird song in the morning
Warming and warning
We heed like leaves awaiting the fall
For changes that will come
Our lives will adjust with seasons
Waxing and waning
All the time anticipating the future
Holding dear to the past and present
We are old enough now
To realize if you look too much ahead
You will be left with future regret
Holding hands
Kissing lips
We await this changes with fires now dim lit
Summers waning pace has tapered off with the months
Cooling heads and sending us off
How I hold the present tight
But know that just letting go
Will be alright
Some details are always secret
Frustrating and deliberate
Held back with animosity
Towards the roaming misfit
Truth is never quite told
Lies sleekly avoided
News spread through lies spun
Then voided
I hope to deal with such grace
That I can overcome dealing with
The real face
Of a roaming misfit
Hold my tongue in place
For when he shows up to my door
Waiting for the embrace
I will hold back the words true and harsh
Hoping for something more contained and smart
But the webs we weave
Some to build
Others to deceive
I know this now more than before
So I will smile with reserve
When this man shows up to my door
A Cup of Songwriting 