Songs by Tom Driscoll

Son g s

For All Th e Wron g Re as on s

Tom Driscoll

I dreamed my love was made of glass, my hands were made of stone. I could not hold this crystal flower, I watched it open alone. I heard a song of longing then, It spoke for her to me. The sands of time, so sure so fine, where they met with the wanting sea.

For the singers, they know who they are...

For All The Wrong Reasons Collected Songs Guesses at Wisdom Gabriela’s Dance Dangerous Reckless Blue Midnight Soldier Noah’s Dove. Love Ain’t A Song Mary’s Bed Bold Robber Still There’s The Rain The River Know’s My Name Not Chosen When The Walls Fall Down Whisper The Bear’s Song

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None The Wiser For All The Wrong Reasons Texas Sky Strange Faith Away Are You Still Sleeping Johno’s Song Falling Down/Standing Up Dance The Darkness Blue Sky Mind Sam And Sara Dreaming The Man I Killed Noon Moon A Soldier’s Dream None The Wiser

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Guesses at Wisdom

Gabriela’s Dance I woke this morning and I wondered was it true, forgive and live, and try to give my heart to something new. But memory is a curse at times and conscience not much more. This song is wrong and won’t belong it won’t settle any score. ‘Cause I can’t make them go away, the ghost of things I said and I can’t forget what I will never know, like the music in her head. Dance, dance, dance, Gabriela, dance, dance. The house that we called home, there was never any doubt that the dream you dreamed when you dreamed was a dream of getting out. Come Friday after work each week we’d count up all our pay and the miles, our trials and the many styles we might choose to get away. Talking through the night, planning for our fame, while Gabriela danced her dance as a dying candle flame. Dance, dance, dance, Gabriela, dance, dance. She called herself a refugee from some secret kind of war with no use for truth as some excuse for taking something more. When talk would gather around us, as smoke would start to rise, she’d dance her dance in this strange trance and I’d come to realize there was something in her older than her face would ever show like the broken glass in a mirror frame and the story that it knows. 1

Dance, dance, dance, Gabriela, dance, dance Her body moves around me in the shadows of this room, that night, the candlelight so bright and some borrowed aching tune. Maybe I took what was not mine or she gave and I was wrong. This darkened heart just played its part and sorrow played along. A candle flame in the morning light can seem to fade away and all the years that pass one night can seem like just one day. Dance, dance, dance, Gabriela, dance, dance. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s like that house was standing still with the shadows that it brings and her pain remains the sad refrain to the songs I try to sing. But shadows never seem to stay, when you need them comes the light. Then they take and break the things youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d make from the fragments of your life. Last night I spoke her name, though I knew she was not there. Ainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t that what some fools call poetry and other fools call prayer? Dance, dance, dance, Gabriela, dance, dance.

Dangerous You used to love to call me dangerous, you smiled and made it part of my name. You called us angels high above what others know as love. We played our souls like they were pieces in a game. Now, I walk alone beneath the sky. Ain’t that the kind of thing that fallen angels do? Walk alone and never fly, not for love, not for you. I know you still call me dangerous. Now it’s spoken with an air of compromise. Is it pain or is it pride, that makes you turn your face to hide and gets your head to claim your heart was telling lies? Now, I walk alone beneath the sky Ain’t that the kind of thing that fallen angels do? Walk alone and never fly, not for love, not for you. Maybe you were right to call me dangerous and when you left me I was wrong to try alone and one desperate angel’s flight on a cold November night was just the long and graceful falling of a stone. Now, I walk alone beneath the sky Ain’t that the kind of thing that fallen angels do? Walk alone and never fly, not for love, not for you

Maybe there’s a price for being dangerous. You might tell me that my hopes and dreams have flown. But I know how it feels when a dream of mine turns real I’d rather watch them fly then say I’ve never known them. now I walk alone beneath the sky ain’t that the kind of thing that fallen angels do walk alone and never fly, not for love, not for you

Reckless Blue No wisdom in the words I hear, still less in those I say. What good are words with eyes of coal that glow, then turn to gray? I wish I was a reckless man and I wish that you were reckless too. We could fly or fail and fall upon all the reckless things we do. Last night I drove the long way home, your voice inside my mind and I felt the watchspring coil of time and care, oh so tenderly, unwind. Your song about the the color blue, your song about the sea. Your song about the eyes of love that never looked at me. I wish I was a reckless man and I wish that you were reckless too. We could fly or fail and fall upon all the reckless things we do. Was it the light of stars or the rain falling down that touched my skin a thousand thousand times with this dream to hold you, as this night holds me, in the darkness of the blind?

Your song about the the color blue, your song about the sea. Your song about the eyes of love that never looked at me. I wish I was a reckless man and I wish that you were reckless too. We could fly or fail and fall upon all the reckless things we do.

Midnight Soldier I don’t want your sympathy for what I’ve been through. I don’t want forgiveness for what I’ve had to do. Your charity is a curse on me, I try to rearrange. A heart just like a purse I see, you can keep the change. You don’t know the midnight soldier. You don’t even know a thing about his war or the battle in his brain that sends him walking in the rain, while you just dim the light and close the door. You don’t need to close your eyes or turn your face away. You don’t need to listen to a single word I say— I will be your soldier, I’ll be gone and I’ll be brave. My name can mark your memory like a stone that marks a grave. You don’t know the midnight soldier. You don’t even know a thing about his war or the battle in his brain that sends him walking in the rain, while you just dim the light and close the door. You rest your head and dream your dreams, as if I was not there. I will watch the night and bear the load that marks a soldier’s care. Let the tired stars all fall on me in the shadows of this day, in the echoes of the songs not sung, the words you will not say. I sleep in the day time now, in the ashes of our bed, after burning through the night and these things inside my head. The morning light might shine on some simple broken cup, but it won’t mend, and it won’t fill, and you won’t lift it up. 7

Noah’s Dove If I could fly like Noah’s dove and make my way across the sea I’d bring back the precious love, the love and time you gave to me. But I’ve found this wide sea shore and I rest upon the sand. I can’t claim what came before and I just don’t know ‘bout all we planned. If I could find what must be found, someplace somehow above this pain, high and dry and safe and sound, we might forget the falling rain. You prayed for rain, while I prayed for light and we watched the sad gray waters grow through forty days and forty nights and forty ways to never know. If I could fly like noah’s dove and make my way across the sea I’d bring back the precious love, the love and time you gave to me. But I can’t fly and I can’t stay, I’m not a stone and I’m not a bird. And I can’t sing and I can’t say another someday sorry word.

Love Ain’t A Song I told the doctor of my plight, of my long and sleepless night, of how I was blinded by the sight of what we found in the morning light. I rendered love a sorry sight and this he said to me: Love is like a seed to grow, what does take root we did not sow and what we need will never grow while we hold it near.

I told the priest of all my sins, your gentle hands upon my skin, of crawling out and falling in to this dark place we found within. He placed his hand upon his chin and this he said to me: Love is like a cross to bear, you drag it here and it drags you there. You’re left with wounds beyond repair and marks upon your soul.

I told the poet of my song, of how the tune had come along, and how the words were turning wrong with props and scenes that don’t belong, I knew I’d fail before too long and this he said to me: 9

Love won’t rhyme and love won’t scan, it never follows any plan. You’re not supposed to understand, you’re just supposed to hear.

I told my lover of my day, what my wise old friends did say. We just can’t take a pill or pray, we have to find another way. It’s time we reckoned the price to pay and this she said to me: You can sing your foolish songs and make believe we don’t belong. You be weak and I’ll be strong. Just come in from the cold ‘Cause love ain’t a song, it ain’t right or wrong. Love ain’t a road or a heavy load. Love ain’t afraid of the bed we made and love won’t pretend this has to end.

Mary’s Bed I’ve walked the night, I’ve watched the day unfolding like a flower. I hear the words that she might say to name this kingdom ours. She says to me the way things should be. She says she thinks she knows. I just can’t see, I just can’t see and I feel it’s time to go. I can’t go back to Mary’s bed, that would be a lie. My body longs for its rest. Still, something inside me needs to fly. From Mary’s bed we watched the light, breath so cool on my skin. Lead glass colors, gold and white, a blanket tangle of blessings and sin. It’s not the lies she told to me that sent me running away. It’s more the lies that I told to myself, as I tried so hard to stay. She touched my heart, I won’t deny. Her hands have shaped that part of me. Her gentle kisses on my eyes, did they blind me or make me see?

I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t go back to Maryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bed, that would be a lie. My body longs for its rest. Still, something inside me needs to fly. The morning light begins to shine. I feel it warm on my face. I just might walk this one more mile in this, my journey from her grace.

Bold Robber Once I loved a bold robber with an eye of jealous green. Now I know that I shall never love another, what with all that I have seen. In his eyes Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve seen reflected all the wanting of my life and, as he will not be a husband, I shall never be a wife. He told me not to speak of love as I touched his pale cool skin. He said the ones who speak of holiness live the darkest of all sin. Once I loved a bold robber, his hair was soft and raven black He stole from me what I would freely give, then he sweetly gave it back. In his hands I felt a darkness, like a blanket, soft and warm, and as those hands closed upon my breast, I watched the starlight newly formed. He did not promise time or treasure, nor was tomorrow on his tongue. But in his arms I was a babe being born, the first sweet breath inside my lung

We made our bed beside the road where the laurel branches grow. Thick and heavy are the leaves, green and dark with what I know. 13

Once I loved a bold robber, his skin so pale and oh so white. In his arms I lost the burning day, as on his skin Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d taste the night. He said it was not fear of capture that kept him hidden from the day. He said he could not watch the desperate men who daily trade their lives away. And to be fated for this freedom was a gladness all its own, to watch the night, lord of only that land that we gently lie upon. We made our bed beside the road where the laurel branches grow. Thick and heavy are the leaves, green and dark with what I know. Once I loved a bold robber, he wore a coat of scarlet red. And of that coat, in the cool of the night, we made ourselves a tender bed. Some say that I should mourn my innocence, a life that passes into sin. But I only mourn the dawning day, the day that saw the last of him. We made our bed beside the road where the laurel branches grow. Thick and heavy are the leaves, green and dark with what I know.

Still There’s The Rain Green tea at midnight, listening to the rain, as if it spoke in words, as if it could explain this fallen feeling that finds me here in pain, alone and stoned, stranded home, missing you again. The wind has no direction like the dance of some sad dancer. It does not hear my question, or it chooses not to answer. Its sound is like the song you can’t forget or quite recall, a song just like your farewell to me echoes in the hall. My hands are still, my eyes are clear, my heart can hear your name. For all I need or want or fear, still there’s the rain. I’ve been known to preach what I do not believe myself, wasting time and twisting lines from the books upon my shelf. But words of wisdom won’t warm the man who reads them in a tomb. The seeds we sowed will never grow, we gathered them too soon. Tonight, I know you’re sleeping, and tonight, I know just where. The wind it sings the sad same song and I know it’s raining there.

But the things I know just go to show the the things I need and lack. The falling rain and my song’s refrain won’t ever bring you back.

My hands are still, my eyes are clear, my heart can hear your name. For all I need or want or fear, still there’s the rain.

The River Knows My Name I think she thought the distance was too far. I think she thought I longed to be a star. I think she said to me, boy, this never can be. I even think I heard her say goodbye. She led me by the hand and through her hometown, past the humming yellow streetlight driveway drone, past her parent’s anxious stares and their virgin mother prayers. Through the winding winter streets we walked alone. Did we stumble, did we crawl, did we fly or finally fall to the place beside the river that we found? She told the river’s name to me, I told the river mine softly, then we listened to the magic water’s sound. And now the river knows my name. I spoke it like the password to a prayer. I know it saw her dark eyes shine, it could taste the tears in mine and it felt the way the wind moved through her hair. We watched there from the water’s edge, she told me of her dreams, I don’t recall a single word I said. But the words that people say, like the prayers some prayers pray can fall and tangle like the sheets from off a bed. How the stars did shine down to light up the crown the queen of night was wearing for the show. She reached out her hand, as we both tried to stand and wipe the midnight dirt from off our clothes.

And now the river knows my name. I spoke it like the password to a prayer. I know it saw her dark eyes shine, it could taste the tears in mine and it felt the way the wind moved through her hair. I still see her winter breath, curling through the night, drifting to its rest among the stars. â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Sweet longingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; was the scene, the picture frame around a dream whispered there by the passing highway cars. I cannot sing, today, the words I could not say, the broken wings that would not fold or fly. The river there still flows with all the things it knows, those things that will forever pass me by. And now the river knows my name. I spoke it like the password to a prayer. I know it saw her dark eyes shine, it could taste the tears in mine and it felt the way the wind moved through her hair.

Not Chosen I am not chosen, that’s not your fault, but say goodbye to your pillar of salt. Just turn away, love, leave me behind. Let me pass from your heart to your mind and down the road, you tell the world that I was the one who turned. You talked of love to me, sweet things I heard, the sweet secret song of some heavensent bird. But the bird on the wing, love, he just sings his song. He’s not the judge of who’s right or wrong and, though he flies so high above, love brings him down to the ground. In your history, darling, love seems to fade. Your songs sing praise of the walls that we made. But the warmth of our bed, the laugh of a child— who will remember the way that you smiled? These things are real, though you would not hold them. You walked away. I am not chosen, that’s not your fault, but say goodbye to your pillar of salt. Just turn away, love, leave me behind. Let me pass from your heart to your mind and down the road, you tell the world that I was the one who turned.

When The Walls Fall Down When the walls fall down, when the war is done, When the homesick soldiers flee, Will the sky have changed, Will the sands have arranged To spell out a name for the sea? Oh, the soldiers and their songs of the fight, What will they sing when thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s peace? Will my soul live on after I am gone? Will my tongue or some part of me name On the perfect day and the birth from clay, The spark as it turns to a flame? Oh, the fires in the morning light, What without eyes will I see? Will this song live on after its been sung? Will it sound on some string in your mind? Will my hope have lived long enough to give Some rhyme to the reason of time? Some rhyme to the reason of time? Some rhyme to the reason of time?

Whisper The dancers have been posed, the dollars have been gathered. The music plays in an empty room where no one can be bothered with listening to the sound of a question, with listening to the sound of an answer, with listening at all. Don’t they hear the whisper of the world, weary with with the years it has wandered with no one to hear it, with no one to hear? Don’t they hear the whisper? Can’t you hear it, falling through the wind, through the shiver and the shadow there, calling through the hunger we call home, where the angry children turn to gather stone? They would pave their empty streets with empty rage. Forgiveness is a coin they cannot spend. And innocence is suspect in this the current age, an illness that passes in the end. From the arms of quiet sleep where dreams might be born, the ragged flag of peace, its fabric has been torn, torn in the hands of a soldier, torn in his hands, torn from the hopes of a saviour, torn from us all.

Can’t we hear the whisper of the world, weary with with the years it has wandered with no one to hear it, with no one to hear? Can’t they hear the whisper ? Can’t you see him, the sad sad stranger, who walks the long way home? His teaching turned and twisted all around his broken name with his eyes of smoke, and his heart in flames. Feel the turning of the stars up above his cares; feel them turning still in the bright blind day. He will not lift his head. He knows that they are there burning there like prayers he could not pray. The distance he has come, the visions he was shown, his journey now is the only thing that he can call his own. Nothing in his hands, to carry, nothing in his hands; nothing at his feet, but this the long way home, nothing at all. Does he hear the whisper of the world, weary with with the years it has wandered with no one to hear it, with no one to hear? Does he hear the whisper? Will he sleep tonight on your property? Will he take the breath supposed to feed your dreams? Will it matter what we say once we’ve seen him on his way? Will he take the breath supposed to feed our dreams?

The Bear’s Song Come and lie beside me if only for the rest, come and lie beside me, place your hand upon my chest. Take the rhythm of my heart and bring it to your song. You know and I know you shall sing before too long. I will never see the dancing grass again, I know. The earth already darkens deep beneath the snow. Your brother’s voices carry, they are singing of the end. I can taste the taste of ashes carried on the wind. When first I found you, you were lost, lost into my eyes, lost into their darkness that you feared and that you prized. For your soul or for your song, did you give yourself to me? Was it something that you captured or something I set free? Come and lie beside me and take the things I give. Take them to your song and there my soul might live. Come and lie beside me you know we don’t have long. Tonight I am still flesh, tomorrow I’ll be song. Yes, something of me lives to see this turning golden year, something of the music to a song I’ll never hear, something of your song much stronger than the words. Like the unseen hand beneath the wing that lifts a soaring bird Ashes pool around the stones, morning waits to speak the words he does not want, the stories other seek. His throat is full with sadness and empty of the breath it takes to tell the dawning day the legend of my death.

Come and lie beside me if only for the rest, come and lie beside me, place your hand upon my chest. Take the rhythm of my heart and bring it to your song. You know and I know you shall sing before too long.

None The Wiser

For All The Wrong Reasons Weren’t we two fine shining fools, climbing up the hill With mountain dreams of life above the rain? Offering up our prayers through starlight and thin air, Never dreaming we would fall back down again. Every day, another page we could write, Sad songs and cigarettes with lonely souls we met, Hearts a fire burning through the night. We were patriots in search of truth or treason. And a song sometimes a song for all the wrong reasons. From our place above the city we watched the flowing light And above our heads there turned a wheel of stars. And this sad and soulless world was just a banner yet unfurled, As our talk turned to the majesty of scars. And how we could be the ones to bring the healing wind With our songs and stories of laughter and glory. We were two smiling saviours aching to begin. Or two priests, high on prayer and hungry for believin’. And a song’s sometimes a song for all the wrong reasons. Then came coffee cups and conversations, down on Concord Road. Remember Gabriela dancing to our songs? A small and fallen flower found, lying on the ground And opening in the place where it belongs.

We must admit it lasted for a while, The promise of the light, through long and easy nights, And gray blue eyes that journeyed towards a smile. To where the saddest of souls could say goodbye to grievin’ Ah, but a song’s sometimes a song for all the wrong reasons When the time does finally come to rewrite all our history We can say we said the things we never said. We’ll say we broke each other’s hearts, for the sake of truth and art, Wandering stars we followed where they led. We’ll say that paradise was just a place for leaving. We’ll say that we have learned from the bridges we have burned And how hope is something less than believing. And how every year closes on this coldest kind of season. And how a song’s sometimes a song for all the wrong reasons.

Texas Sky Huntsville, Texas, December or July, the coldest place in all creation. It’s too windy there for candlelight and protest songs won’t change the night or the heart of this angry nation. He’s dressed in prison clothes, we watch the man walk down, his hands all bound up in chains. With a needle in his arm he won’t do no one no harm. Hell, we don’t even need to know his name. Texas sky, Texas sky: cold and dark and high. There’s another lonely star tonight, up in the Texas sky, shining down on you and I. The camera lights outside the prison walls won’t shine when the crowd does go, or when the priest has prayed that some debt has been paid to what the dead and the dark don’t know. And with the darkness a woman stands alone, blind with the tears in her eyes, and to the cold sky above she whispers how her love might have failed, but won’t ever say goodbye. Texas sky, Texas sky: cold and dark and high. There’s another lonely star tonight, up in the Texas sky, shining down on you and I.

What's that I hear? Some politician talking proud about the bible that he’s read and what it means. With his dollar and his dime, he won’t stand the test of time. They say Pilate’s hands never did come clean. They say that Jesus died between two thieves, two cold, low and lowly men. And they say that Jesus said, “you do unto me, just as you do unto them.” Texas sky, Texas sky: cold and dark and high. There’s another lonely star tonight, up in the Texas sky, shining down on you and I.

Strange Faith Strange faith, You’ve got a strange faith indeed. You only turn to talk to me when you’re angry or in need, With your dark hour calls about nothing at all, Your thirst and the rain. Never open or aware of what is shining there, right before your eyes. What’s in a name, what’s in a word, As you walk the fine line between the brave and the absurd? You say it’s time you washed the sleep from your eyes, But once you do, darling, you just might realize That I might have been the best dream, I might have been the best dream, I just might have been the best dream, darling, The best dream that you ever had, that you ever had. How can you claim You were the one who was forsaken? When what you know you threw away, You go and say it was taken? It’s a sorry song to give and sadder still to live By a vow of sad complaint. Does your sorrow pass for grace, In this cold and lonely place You have come to call your home?

Can you listen—do you dare to hear it? The answer that you seek—do you seek or fear it?

You say it’s time you washed the sleep from your eyes, But once you do, darling, you just might realize That I might have been the best dream, I might have been the best dream, I just might have been the best dream, darling, The best dream that you ever had, that you ever had.

Away The things you tried to give to me, I won’t need them where I’m going. The things you tried to teach to me, there won’t be no use there in my knowing. I’m just tired of all this talk about trying and all, oh, how useful life can be. When I see one lonely bird up there flying I start to wonder if there’s a place for me. No better name for where I’m bound, there’s nothing I can claim that I have found, there’s nothing you could ever sing or say to make me stay, no better name for where I’m bound, but away. We both believed this was a healing place, a place for me to lay my burden down. But deep inside we both found this empty place, just as empty as the streets of this town. You just don’t know what burns inside of me and I might not know what lives inside of you. Weren’t we both fools, for what we tried to be, the lies we told dreaming they’d come true? And you can keep the change. And you can keep the choices, this dream we both thought was ours, ‘Cause I won’t see your eyes and I won’t hear the voices telling me to stay and hide these scars 31

No better name for where I’m bound, there’s nothing I can claim that I have found, there’s nothing you could ever sing or say to make me stay, no better name for where I’m bound, but away.

Are You Still Sleeping? Are you still sleeping my darling? Are you still wrapped up in your dreams? You know tonight there’s a light that the stars bring that says exactly what it means. It does not shine with prayers or promises of what it hopes to do some day. It will not hurt you in the ways it tries to hold you. It will not choose to turn away. It tells me not to hope for heaven while I’m lying next to you. It feels your breath dancing lightly on my skin and paints your face in shades of blue. I don’t know where I’ve been until now and I don’t know where I’ll go. I just know that I’m with you right now, I just know.

I know that I have tried to hold you like tomorrow was a thief. I’ve tried to hide my heart from what I told you and this has only brought us grief. But in this light, my love I see you. You are here and so am I, every second burning bright inside my heart like all the stars from in the sky.

I know that I would be forgiven for every foolish things I’ve done, if you would wake and see the way this blessing’s given to love’s foolish fallen son. I don’t know where I’ve been until now and I don’t know where I’ll go. I just know that I’m with you right now, I just know.

Is this a song about forgiveness? Is this the song to set us free? You and I, are we the victims or the witness to what can and cannot be? Is this light the light of wisdom, of some truth, sent from above? Is this a song of salvation or surrender? Is this the shining face of love? I don’t know where I’ve been until now and I don’t know where I’ll go. I just know that I’m with you right now, that’s all I know.

Johno’s Song I think I’m gonna call this ‘Johno’s Song.’ This picture that I painted, ‘Johno’s Song.’ I know I never found your likeness there— I’m not sure I ever even tried. I’ve only done my best to play it fair, to put what wasn’t there aside. Maybe I was just thinking something through, trying my best to get my self over you, to find that one last hope for me to hide. And maybe I should have seen this all along, but take one long last look my love at ‘Johno’s Song.’ Didn’t I make a mess outta you? Trying to picture your bright baby blues, I found something like the darkness there behind them, the purple words you had to sing in staggered time and with a broken string. I found the empty light of one—so secretly blind. Just now I think I see that west sky gold, the color of the story I wish your notebook novel told. Remember how the sun was setting in the sea? I wanted you to be the one to turn to me, with that one last blank page that I could see. There the hollow hero whispers something like, “hug me from the cold,” empty, like a hand for me to hold.

You always had the right words. You just went and said them wrong. But take one long last look my love at ‘Johno’s Song.’

Many times I’ve tried to hang this picture on the wall. And each time I do I have to watch it fall. I see that look you wore upon your face, as I hold you and you drift through space to your hobo prayers, your vacant stares, night sky scenes and acid queens, to the desert at the dawning of your dreams and the wreckage of your longing to be free. I see the patron saint of sinners up there singing to the stars. Was it redemption that you loved? Oh, Johno, or was it the falling? Your starlit book, love, take a look and tell me— What does it mean or matter now to anyone at all?

Ah, maybe I should have seen this all along, the way you always had the right words and you just went and said them wrong. But just before I paint this all back where it belongs, take one long last look, my love, at ‘Johno’s Song.’

Falling down, standing up Everyone I know has needs. Everyone I know has needs. Everyone I know has needs and you are one of mine. The walls have got a brand new coat of paint, the ceiling starts to fall. The things I tried to say to you last night, I know they make no sense at all. The flower falls into the bottle throat, green glass liquor long ago drunk on dreamsongs and talk of tender hope and high on how these seemed to glow. Falling down, standing up, you leave some things behind. Coffee stain lines on an empty cup turning circles through my mind. Everyone I know has needs. Everyone I know has needs. Everyone I know has needs and you are one of mine. Isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t this the song I sang for you before? Remember paradise before the fall? while the sorry soldier, sleeping just outside your door, lies dark and dreaming of your call?

But winter chose to stay another day, so you can sleep or just pretend while the sad survivor finds another way, one wrinkled dollar left to spend. Falling down, standing up, you leave some things behind. Coffee stain lines on an empty cup turning circles through my mind. Everyone I know has needs. Everyone I know has needs. Everyone I know has needs and you are one of mine.

Dance The Darkness What am I to do? It seems I’ve fallen through The hole I’ve tried to dance my life around. And as I start to fall, I hear your music call. And my head and heart are taken by the sound. To the lonely touch of footsteps on the road, To the broken and surrendered, The wounds that won’t be mended, To the heart that will not hear what its been told. What am I to do? When I feel that I’ve found you And I know I’ve lost what wisdom I once had. Is my life a game of chance or this sweet and sorry dance To the time of a tune so simple and so sad? Come and dance with me The Darkness, Place your hand in mine. Bring your gentle kiss to my lips And taste this bitter wine. I can close my eyes And you can hold me to your song. We can dance our dance of sweet despair Until the light of dawn, Until it shines. And in the morning light I’ll be longing for the night, For the shelter in the shadow of your eyes, When you’ll come to me again like some simple song’s refrain, With the simple perfect pain we have taken for our prize.

With the dreams of those who wander in the rain, The sadness of your song, This resignation to the dawn, Your hand upon my heart that still remains. Can you tell me why I search the bluest sky For the poison and the promise of the rain, Or why I take your hand, when I cannot understand How this small and fallen flower has found me here again? Come and dance with me The Darkness, Place your hand in mine. Bring your gentle kiss to my lips And taste this bitter wine. I can close my eyes And you can hold me to your song. We can dance our dance of sweet despair Until the light of dawn, Until it shines.

Blue Sky Mind She was made of glass and he was a stone, both were broken down and blind as bone. Oh, but dancing drunk is dangerous alone. They left you crazy, stained and stuck, and, my friend, I wish you luck with everything you choose to leave behind, with what you choose to leave behind your blue sky mind. Blue sky mind, blue sky mind. Can you see what I’m saying with a blue sky mind? Blue sky mind, blue sky mind. We can watch this wound up world as it unwinds. Can you see what I’m saying? Can you see what I’m saying? Can you see what I’m saying with a blue sky mind? I guess I got her wrong, she never said be strong and she never said she’d stay for very long. So solitude and loneliness have fought it out and made a mess of me. They left me to be the one who has to see that there’s nothing left to shadow or to shine and that today’s the day I find my blue sky mind.

Blue sky mind, blue sky mind. Can you see what I’m saying with a blue sky mind? Blue sky mind, blue sky mind. We can watch this wound up world as it unwinds. Can you see what I’m saying? Can you see what I’m saying? Can you see what I’m saying with a blue sky mind? Empty like a pocket full of holes, the darkness of a flower as it unfolds— empty like a hand for you to hold. Fallen to the ground, the only coin I found I turned and left for someone else to find, for someone else to find my blue sky mind.

Sam and Sara Dreaming All day long alone, all day long alone, he’s been walking up and down these flights of stairs. He hears the door, there’s no one there. The children on his street have found his darkest mind. The shadow songs begin. There is no need to reconcile his harmless lies, there are no victims of his sins. He remembers tenderness. He starts to dream. He tries to hold her differently this time, but even in his mind he watches helplessly as she starts to cry. This is Sam and Sara dreaming, we’re watching Sam and Sara dream. This is Sam and Sara dreaming, we’re watching Sam and Sara dream.

Leave it all behind, leave it all behind. One last cigarette, she says and she will start again. No need to be what she has been. She prays the prayer she’s prayed at least five times before, this page was written late at night. You can win each battle and still lose the war and never learn to love the fight. She once more tries to say his name. She feels his hands. She shakes her head and laughs her laugh. She tells herself she’s so much stronger. He is not there to see her eyes 44

This is Sam and Sara dreaming, we’re watching Sam and Sara dream. This is Sam and Sara dreaming, we’re watching Sam and Sara dream. The linen rose has blindly faded from the color it once was. Each day that passes, another prisoner paraded. What does it matter what God does? The wheel revolves. The years dissolve. The circle closes. This is Sam and Sara dreaming, we’re watching Sam and Sara dream. This is Sam and Sara dreaming, we’re watching Sam and Sara dream. Let it all fall again, let it all fall again, the rain that fell before and could not find their cup, the hands that could not join and lift it up. Let there be this dream rain.Wash their tears away, their sorrows and their sins. Wash the scars that have hardened since that day. Let another song begin. It’s time to let a new song in

The Man I Killed

from the story by Tim O’Brien

When I close my eyes, I still see him in the misty light of not quite day. Blue flowers by the side of the road where he fell, a star-shaped wound where his eye once was. I see the butterfly lit upon the wreckage of his face. And to this day I cannot explain how those golden wings touched something deep inside of me, something that I know I cannot name. The man I killed is something I have carried from that dawning day and through every day that came to tell me that I must tell the story, that I must live, that I must feel this pain. He was a small, still young, almost beautiful man, small wrists, small waist, smooth skin. He carried his weopon with the muzzle towards the ground, a school boy with a belt of ammunition. I know he saw my handgrenade land at his feet, but he did not cry out—or even make a sound. He took one step, then up into the air— then he landed, broken on the ground The man I killed is more than a story or some offering of imaginary pain. It’s not some lie about destiny or glory found within the Southeast Asia rain.

In my dreams sometime I let him pass me by and he passes as if there isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t any war. I see his eyes in a way I never really saw them and his life, like mine, continues down the road, down the road, down the years, down the hours to this day, to where his children ask for stories of the war.

Noon Moon I see a big square man in a round holed world, he never meant anyone any harm. I hear a big old barking backyard, howling full of dogs. It seems the sky’s some cause for alarm. Is that a high noon moon, or some pie in the sky, or the sun as it sets down towards the sea? If this hole in my soul does not mend in the end, you tell the slave he can set his master free. “Cause I know it’s late and I know I’m wrong and I’ve said things a better man would never say. You know I’m not all that strong and I only sing what I’ve forgotten how to say. Rivers flow, I know, and the sea is free to play its game with the tide and the shore. But my heart is part of the load I’ve towed up a long steep path to your door. There’s a broken chain in an empty room, there’s not a place in this house to lay my head. You can call this my prayerful tune and we’ll pretend that these aren’t just words that I have said. Now the sky is high, I’m feeling wired and tired. Don’t send me home to my hole all alone. ‘Cause in my shack by the tracks I’d only drink and think about the long years weighing on my bones.

“Cause I know it’s late and I know I’m wrong and I’ve said things a better man would never say. You know I’m not all that strong and I only sing what I’ve forgotten how to say.

If I could I would get the day to stay where the sun would not shine in your eyes. Then our fears and tears could sound a sane refrain to the songs that we make up out of lies There’s a broken chain in an empty room, there’s not a place in this house to lay my head. You can call this my prayerful tune and we’ll pretend that these aren’t just words that I have said.

A Soldier’s Dream

to the traditional melody: “Lady Franklin’s Lament”

A sleepless night and still I had a dream. I saw a family joined in pain. Another soldier was coming home With another name now to be carved in stone. I dreamed I saw them all standing there, A folded flag and whispered sorry prayer. We watched in silence as they laid him down And warm tears fell to the cold cold ground. And in this dream I saw my hands reach down. I gathered soil up from the broken ground. I prayed a prayer, one soul to save And let the dirt fall on his open grave. There’s talk of protest, now, and talk of pride, As if you choose your truth and you can choose your side. But this dream of mine will not let me be, Not with these questions it keeps asking me. How many more then will be asked to die, To suffer truth onto this foolish lie? And how much longer can we all pretend That we can wait and watch and this war will end?

None The Wiser None the wiser, I’ve come home to you. None the wiser, only hungry tired and blue. For all my time at searching to find just one thing true, I guess I should have known I’d find it when I came home to you. I’m a soldier coming home from the war, the victor or the vanquished only wanting, nothing more. It’s long ago forgotten now what he was fighting for. None the wiser, I’ve come home to you. None the wiser, for all the battles I’ve been through. I see a tattered banner hanging in a blue and breathless sky. Still, I see their colors turning there in your eyes. I climbed onto the mountain top to see what I could see, no angel come to touch my lips with a burning kiss for me. The songs that I was going to sing, the message I was going to bring, my blind and lonely wanderings, these were to be my offering to thee.

None the wiser, I’ve come home to you None the wiser, now that the journey’s through I see all of the darkness that I have been through has been along a path that leads me back home to you. I see one pale star in the night with its memory and promise of the light and I know the blind man’s recollection of his sight. None the wiser, I’ve come home to you. None the wiser, I’ve come home to you. None the wiser, I have come home to you.