Somewhere between the sorrow And the longing in each life There’s a voice that fills the void with recognition. The words touch dreams and passion While the music builds a hymn Be it sung in celebration or contrition Only listen As the sky, the roads, the water Each bring the songs they know Pay with open mind to gain admission The concert has just started Full of songs all heard before With notes of grace that colour their rendition Only listen I was told to treasure tears Washing clean the passing years I was told that yesterday Is to visit, not to stay I was told that candles burn And, snuffed out, don’t return I was told I should not leave I have listened, I believed Take a love of light and laughter Take contemplated dark And wrap resulting thoughts as hope’s permission When every wall’s a doorway And every step’s a dance It’s the soundtrack to a generous life’s mission Only listen Only listen Only listen

In England they're waiting for Arthur, Or the beat of a drum calling Drake. Here in the new world we've few knights to summon And a sad lack of ladies in lakes. But a hill facing south-Georgia swampland Holds caves where time slows to a crawl. Sleeping inside is a man and his possum With a turtle, a gator, an owl… Come back and save us, Walt Kelly; Pogo gave wisdom to trust, Saying that each time we meet our worst enemy, Turns out that enemy's us. He was good at detecting Malarkey And those who wrapped flags around greed. Porky Pine always had points to consider So, his is the voice that we need. Come back and save us, Walt Kelly; Pogo gave wisdom to trust, Saying that each time we meet our worst enemy, Turns out that enemy's us. If circumstance ever wakes Merlin Or Kings under mountains should ride Defending their homelands in times of great danger I hope they bring Walt by their side. Come back and save us, Walt Kelly; Pogo gave wisdom to trust, Saying that each time we meet our worst enemy, Turns out that enemy's us.

Let me kiss your face or hold me in your hands Tiny as a dew-drop shining on a spider’s strand Calling to the thunderstorms that roll across this land I’ll be rain some day. I am water. Lying on the ground, I can only touch your toes, But I’ll be rain some day. Yes, I’ll be rain some day. A lake is just a lake and a stream is just a stream Some have found their pleasure in a lively burst of steam But lifted to the clouds above has always been my dream I’ll be rain some day. I am water. Lying on the ground, I can only touch your toes, But I’ll be rain some day. Yes, I’ll be rain some day. Put away galoshes, keep umbrellas locked within Dance under my shower, I’ll become your private sin Caresses like a lover who is wedded to your skin Be your rain some day I am water. Lying on the ground, I can only touch your toes, But I’ll be rain some day. Yes, I’ll be rain some day. I’m afraid of drowning to be lost inside the sea When I could keep on falling as long as I am me Splash into a river from a leaf upon a tree, Be rain again some day. I am water. Lying on the ground, I can only touch your toes, But I’ll be rain some day. Yes, I’ll be rain some day.

If I should catch the moon, will it let my father rest? We live inside his dreams, bearing fruit of his distress I touch the rocks up in the sky and wonder, have I learned He shivers in his sleep, breaks his own bones as he turns If I should catch the moon If I should catch the moon If I should catch the moon, will it give my father peace? And if I cannot cure, I can offer ease at least It may be my survival’s lure and maybe his as well To be more than a warning tale historians will tell If I should catch the moon If I should catch the moon After all her travels, his daughter is returning After all the madness, after years of dark and burning Call the water to the shore See a sky that’s bright once more As every season passes to remembrance. If I should catch the moon, will my father let me be? To move in gentle dance with an ancient harmony I’d like to walk a highway that is open to the stars I’d like to see a city that is free of legend’s scars If I should catch the moon If I should catch the moon If I should catch the moon

When life gives you lemons, you’ve been told what to do: Make lemonade and earn a nickel or two. Sell it ‘round the town to your neighbours or kin, Get up in the morning, slice lemons again. I’ve had enough lemonade already. It’s spreading out wide and it’s rising up steady. Sour and seedy and it burns going down, One more glass and I believe I’ll drown. Each passing dark cloud must be silver-lined; If you own an airplane, you can start a silver mine. All that precious ore’s going to pit and corrode When it falls in the lemonade that’s flooding the road. I’ve had enough lemonade already. It’s spreading out wide and it’s rising up steady. Sour and seedy and it burns going down, One more glass and I believe I’ll drown. My ship once came in on a bright, sunny day, Laden with lemons as it entered the bay. Roots split the hull, from its cargo of trees, And it sank out of sight ‘neath the deep lemon sea. I’ve had enough lemonade already. It’s spreading out wide and it’s rising up steady. Sour and seedy and it burns going down, One more glass and I believe I’ll drown. One more glass and I believe I’ll drown.

Tuesday’s such a lonely day when Monday’s not around. It only has its memories of being lost, then found, For Monday is its anchor and provides a solid base That keeps a flighty Tuesday from drifting into space. And I love you like Tuesday loves Monday. Sometimes, it seems they’re just one day. I imagine everything feels right When they touch in the middle of the night. Monday is all business ’til the working day is through Tuesday’s about getting by, does what it has to do They meet on special evenings, hold close; no need to speak So happy they’re together, and together every week So I love you like Tuesday loves Monday. Sometimes, it seems they’re just one day. I imagine everything feels right When they touch in the middle of the night. I love you like Tuesday loves Monday. Sometimes, it seems they’re just one day. I imagine everything feels right When they touch in the middle of the night.

Near the shore of an island in the Hebrides Jenny almost drowned On a fam’ly holiday when she was nine And I wish I had a picture of her, Happy, dry, and safe, But our cam’ra failed. That happened every time. To my daughter Jenny I can’t explain quite how You’ve been always in my memory But never in my now. Never now. Out of all her birthdays, I recall the eighth; The magician showed up drunk Though names of guests elude me when I try. There was homework done behind closed doors To my daughter Jenny I can’t explain quite how You’ve been always in my memory But never in my now. Never now. Sometimes when I think of you it’s like a charcoal sketch: The outline’s right but detail’s just implied, Or maybe like a story character, not fully fleshed, A role without a rationale to guide. To my daughter Jenny I can’t explain quite how You’ve been always in my memory But never in my now. Never now.

Stop his breath Twist his tongue Watch his plans come all undone Stares my way A mental wreck But my friends tell me he’s starting to suspect. Too much magic, They say I’m using too much magic In everything I do: Try a little less voodoo. Feed his feared Embarrassment So he regrets each fond intent Give him false Memories Of how relationships end tragically Too much magic, They say I’m using too much magic In everything I do: Try a little less voodoo. Endless rain, Sodden fella Thinks he’s holding an umbrella I could part Clouds aloft If I knew what would work to turn him off Too much magic, They say I’m using too much magic In everything I do: Try a little less voodoo. A little less voodoo. Yeah, a little less voodoo.

My father was a Baron, A strong and yet a fair one Who taught me how to fight and how a courtier should act. I looked to do better So, when I read the letter From the King about his daughter’s willingness to wed, I packed! Arriving at the castle I waited like an ass ’til Nobles by the dozens, knights by hundreds, passed through court. At last I was presented To the Princess who’d consented But my flowery application was met with a royal snort Not so fast. I bet I can change your mind. You are in a hurry for the “happy ever after” But this is still the “once upon a time”. Seems there is this ogre That’s evil and gone rogue. Her Father then explained about the quest that he’d contrived. I'm sure that I surprised them When, quickly, I apprised them That an ogre as a threat was one most easily survived. A cave half-full of treasure Discarded there at leisure Is a certain sign of ogre when gnawed bones consume the rest. One being within vision Was a woman there imprisoned Who quite misunderstood my noting that she was undressed. Not so fast. I bet I can change your mind. You are in a hurry for the “happy ever after” But this is still the “once upon a time”. The lock broke in short order, Then I turned my back toward her As she rummaged for some clothes among the piled, discarded wealth. When I looked once more, she Who stood adorned before me Was no simple country maiden but an armoured knight herself. She met my gaze with laughter Said, “It’s gold that I am after And here’s the bag I gathered ‘ere he saw me and attacked.” I didn’t think that knightly And couldn’t treat it lightly But even less the voice that spoke from right behind my back. Not so fast. I bet I can change your mind. You are in a hurry for the “happy ever after” But this is still the “once upon a time”. I spun and drew my sword out The ogre! (I had no doubt) And, yes, he stood full eight-feet tall, as ugly as could be, The giant looming icon Of evil knights rely on To test their strength, to prove their worth to all of chivalry. I stumbled in the clutter; A magic spell he’d uttered But he forgot to count his foes and thence came his demise. I praised the knight’s assistance But she showed some resistance Said, “I’ve the head so maybe I’ll go claim the royal prize.” Not so fast. I bet I can change your mind. You are in a hurry for the “happy ever after” But this is still the “once upon a time”. She said, “I’ve an idea. I’d rather hate to see ya’ Waste your life in boredom watching each dull day decline.” Her simple proposition: A two-way coalition. Her share in our adventures: loot. The glory would be mine. For years, we’ve met discreetly And never does she treat me When we’re out hunting fiend or beast as anything but friend. Sometimes that’s a sorrow. She speaks of vague tomorrows: “Some day when you’re not so obsessed with how the story ends.” Not so fast. I bet I can change your mind. You are in a hurry for the “happy ever after” But this is still the “once upon a time”. This is still the “once upon a time”.

Ringwood was of noble stock But not with house or land And so he rambled country-wide In search of pleasures grand. The horse, the salmon, and the fox Stood high upon his list. Above them, only local maids With no will to resist. Now, often he would hear some tale Concerning his friend Bates Who also roamed the counties round And shared in Ringwood’s tastes. In that way he came to learn About Knockderry town. He could not think what prize it held Nor guess what Bates had found. Some days then passed ’til Ringwood rode Up to Knockderry’s inn, Discovering, though Bates was gone, His bags remained within. “I wager that he’s found some lass Or, likelier, found two,” So, Ringwood thought, and then retired, His options to review. To pass the waiting days he walked The nearby paths and lanes In hope that he would chance to glimpse Some beauty, but in vain. Until he met upon the road A young and barefoot miss Who drove her muddy, straggling cows. One thing made him desist. A lady on a horse of grey Appeared along the trail. When Ringwood thought of comeliness Comparisons all failed. She paused before she turned aside. He stood entranced by her. She whistled for her dog to come, A bone-thin beaten cur. He followed to her tower home Along a winding track. She turned and stared into his eyes ’Til he could not hold back. With whiskey and with firelight She drove his sense away And he made fervent promise then That he would always stay. He woke when it was fully dark With friend Bates standing near Who told him not to speak too loud, Afraid that she would hear. He woke when it was fully dark And, horrified, he saw, By light of one last flickering flame, His thin and furry paws.

I log into Facebook to see what news awaits Fearing some fresh tragedy or message filled with hate. Perhaps there’s been a plane crash where nobody survived Instead, the waiting pictures make me glad that I’m alive. They are kittens on the net, kittens on the net Cuddly, cute and innocent are kittens on the net When I read my Twitter feed, I dread that I will see A thousand pithy slogans all staring back at me They ought to say a “rehash” instead of a “re-tweet” But some of them quote URLs that link to something neat. They are kittens on the net, kittens on the net Cuddly, cute and innocent are kittens on the net Perhaps there are emergencies that lead us to the cats Or maybe it’s escaping on a day when we feel flat. Fluffy little felines are guaranteed to please And to think it got momentum from a burger topped with cheese. For the kittens on the net, kittens on the net Cuddly, cute and innocent are kittens on the net Friends of mine like puppies when they’re curled up on a rug And some are happy with their snakes or strangely smiling bugs Still others are insistent there is nothing like an owl But I prefer a kitten who is learning how to prowl. They are kittens on the net, kittens on the net Cuddly, cute and innocent are kittens on the net I’ve heard that Willy Brennan was an Irish Robin Hood. He stole a lot of money, then he used it to do good. They hanged him ‘cause the World Wide Web was not invented yet, So the soldiers weren’t distracted by those kittens on the net. There are kittens on the net, kittens on the net Cuddly, cute and innocent are kittens on the net Cuddly, cute and innocent are kittens on the net

Primary beacon’s not transmitting anymore We’ve got some pictures from a relay. Warriors breaking down the temple walls Workers fleeing from the meleé This is my city, this is my home, this is the world I know And the fire started burning, days ago. Never dreamed that the home-world could fall We’ve no enemy so savage. Throughout history not one force has come To ruin, vandalize, and ravage. We built the strong walls, we built in pride, we built for peace and good. In the streets, cracks are showing where I’ve stood. My father took me there when I rode upon his shoulders And I saw unending grandeur built To meet eternity. The buildings formed from crystal showed A path into the blue sky While breezes played the spires like harp strings, Light and joyfully. Grey council, thousand years of peace And I broke it as predicted. I had reasons, I had all my faith Now feelings, each conflicted. Ash on the landscape, soot in the air, smoke drives the glow away But my city shone with beauty, in its day. It was a beautiful city, wasn’t it.

He has seen his face carved as a holy souvenir, She has the eyes of one who’s bioengineered. As they are marked in mind and form, looking inward still Reminds them of the lives they’ve lost to other people’s will. Could there be forgetting And could there be repair In the time it takes to travel Out there? He dreams of escape beyond what followers designed; She’s aimed like a weapon at the target she’s defined. While she contains destruction; he wrestles with a beast. No normal life is possible but maybe life at least. Could there be forgetting And could there be repair In the time it takes to travel Out there? He’s suffered for his journeys, has planets yet to see She’s felt the touch of power that needs to be set free. She sends her people courage now, strength to raise their voice; His get the gift of adulthood and independent choice. Could there be forgetting And could there be repair In the time it takes to travel Out there? Could there be forgetting And could there be repair In the time it takes to travel Out there?

The first home I remember was a cottage by the road The smell of asphalt fresh upon the street To an artless five year old, The crooked ground stretched miles untold Up to sky and down to sulphrous heat My father’s work was in the back where he had his garage I’d pester him to teach me all his tricks Dad's shop was the major draw For any passers-by we saw Stopping there to have handbaskets fixed. Dad had a PhD in basketweaving Opened a garage beside the highway Willow or rattan repairs; teflon coating Racing stripes or flames; half-price Fridays As I grew we battled 'bout his treatment of the damned He said they'd all ignore advice he'd give, Keep on sliding down that hill, Completely trapped in their free will “A basketweaver's fam'ly's got to live." I thought he was evil, to encourage as he did But that's just how it is with dads and kids. Once, with Dad off buying parts, loud rattling shook the doors A man, with basket damaged by the slide Said it didn’t have to last But needed speed-up treatment fast, The non-stick kind with 'smilies' on the side I refused, explained that this was not my line of work He didn't care how much he had to pay Called me ev'ry name he could Until I patched the splintered wood To send him on his wicked, wickered way Dad had a PhD in basketweaving Opened a garage beside the highway Willow or rattan repairs; teflon coating Racing stripes or flames; half-price Fridays Packed and left next morning, aware Dad's attitude Was shaped by strangers eager for their fall Never matched my Dad's degree But made the most of living free Where I scored this ride, I can’t recall Dad had a PhD in basketweaving Opened a garage beside the highway Willow or rattan repairs; teflon coating Racing stripes or flames; half-price Fridays I thought he was evil, to encourage as he did But that's just how it is with dads and kids.