1. |
Hope
02:51
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Well, the day's been cold and my hands are freezing
I've been out since late this evening,
Trying to earn my keep and bring some bread back home.
Well my wife is there and my daughters playing,
in the same old house where we've been praying
asking to change our lives and maybe redeem my pride.
You, see I'm a young man of barely fifty
who fought in the war where the bullets missed me.
They didn't miss my friends.
To father whiskey I did repent.
And my days are spent as a factory worker,
and at night I stock as a local grocery.
My eyes are the color of sleep,
and the numbness has taken my feet.
Some days I feel like death is waiting,
to take what he sees as decaying.
But, I'll find a way to cope
because my daughters name is Hope.
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2. |
Baton Rouge
04:18
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So in that sun stained house where my father raised his son,
was the same old house, where his father raised one.
And under the old oak tree where I buried a part of my family,
I remember, what he'd say to me.
When I die I'll go to Baton Rouge.
Lay my body in the waves.
When I die I'll go to Baton Rouge.
Cause' heaven's just too crowded anyway.
When doubt creeps in, a cynical demon in words.
His tongue's dancing loudly, his views they contort
He's leaving, She's lying, there's nothing worth finding.
Am I out here all alone?
This disarray it will convey, a broken heart or a solemn day,
a simple whim or an honest friend
a common hope we might ascend
and as we dream this simple dream, I only ask one more thing
I only hope we can find some peace in our lives.
When I die I'll go to Baton Rouge.
Lay my body in the waves.
When I die I'll go to Baton Rouge.
Cause' heaven's just too crowded anyway.
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3. |
Dear Poets
02:43
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Dear poets lend me your words so I might write along the walls,
and misfits lend your ignorance so I can lose all I control.
A painters mind so unrefined, so bright, so vibrant and raw.
Please give to me an ability to see some difference in it all.
So blessed are those who show a soft resonance of the soul,
they fight off the callous and cold and develop a song bird's song.
Original in intent not tone, for the sculptor never made the stone.
For those who come before me, they will live forever more.
So let the singer sing his songs and let the people sing along.
Give hope, give goodness, give grace,
inspire, uplift and create.
Destroy only the perceptions of the demons in your head.
Cause' even the giants under the hill need a day to get some rest.
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4. |
Gone are the Days
04:07
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Gone are the days, when we'd search for any ways
to skip class just to find ourselves in the fields of Hyrule.
Gone is a time, when our aptitude was defined
by words on a page and promptness before the bell
before the bell
Now are the days, where our confidence finds its grave,
and the robbing rich they steal from the pleading poor.
And now is the time, for an imperial frame of mind
when our dreams play out in a galaxy far, far away.
So do you love what you do?
Do the days bring a smile?
Does the grass seem green on all the sides?
and do you sing in your car?
What were your dreams a child?
If you could make one change what would it be,
what would it be?
So do you know who you are?
Does your soul feel on fire?
What would they say if you died today?
Have you fallen in love?
Ever questioned your god?
If you could give one gift what would it be,
what would it be?
I long for the days when my childhood had its way,
and simplicity sat in the shadows and under the stones.
I long for a time, when my god was not defined,
and he felt for me exactly as I felt for him.
I long for the days.
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5. |
The Breeze
05:15
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So take your hand and lay it on your chest,
feel the rhythm as it beats below your breast.
This is life, so subtle and still
yet constantly flowing, and ready to live.
What kind of life will you live?
Feel your tongue as it rests between your teeth,
a thing of goodness or sharpened disease.
It's an instrument, a universal antique.
Yet yours is different, its songs are unique.
What kind of songs will you sing?
Some will tell you I'm lying, or say that I'm blinded,
but I know you feel it, in the bones, in the blood in your veins
will burn, let passion turn
your doubts and your demons into fuel for the fucking flames
You'll find in a matter of time only memories stay,
as our bodies fade away
to the sea, to the dirt and the trees,
one day we will all join the breeze.
When you find yourself alone with just your breath,
feel the silence as it swells in your chest,
it's a canvas of a natural white.
You are the painter, and the painting is your life.
Let the colors fill your eyes.
Some will tell you I'm lying, or say that I'm blinded,
but I know you feel it, in the bones, in the blood in your veins
will burn, let passion turn
your doubts and your demons into fuel for the fucking flames
You'll find in a matter of time only memories stay,
as our bodies fade away
to the sea, the dirt and the trees,
one day we will all join the breeze.
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Zachary Flynn Champaign, Illinois
"Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you may be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ears, I have
loved many women and men, but I love none better than you." - Walt Whitman
Independent singer-songwriter, based out of Champaign, IL.
www.zacharyflynn.com
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