(B)..E/A/EC#mB/E/A/EC#mB/A/BE
A/E/A/E/A/E/F#m/B
I'm gonna make
Like I'm gone
I'm gonna thank you all for coming
And staying up so long
It's gonna seem
Like I'm not sad
Like watching you all, walking away
Ain't the best thing that I've had
I'm gonna make
Something better
Drifting Blues on the radio
First snow is in the skies
Everything's gone grey and cold
So easy to give up and cry
But...
CHORUS
Last time I saw you, walking away
Summer sun was in your hair
I can't remember, if you turned to say
It got easy not to care
But...
CHORUS
Something better...because
It's the things we never say
Get all piled up, and in our way
It's not the things we don't do
Keep us from saying kinder things
Like I...love..you....
So...CHORUS
Showing posts with label Cowboy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cowboy. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Monday, August 31, 2009
A Letter From Lloyd to Agnes, His Love...
Agnes, love, the fish have been biting.
It'd be such a waste to ignore.
I have to go, didn't pay attention to how late it's gotten.
You know, I gotta go.
Maybe then we can get to that vacation.
Next month, to see your folks.
Sure, she's a pain, but she's still your mother.
Maybe we'll get "stuck" on the road.
Like that time, when we went to Phoenix.
I can't remember a better sunset.
It's been too long, that's for sure, since we had a nice trip.
Maybe next month, let's talk tomorrow.
I know, you were planning to do some shopping.
I'm fresh out of good socks, could you get me a new pair?
Black should be fine, remember we have that wedding.
Saturday, the catholic church in the afternoon.
If I get home late, I won't wake you.
Got some work in the woodshed I need to do.
Sleep well, my love, see you in the morning.
I'll lock up like I always do.
I would have loved you any way that you wanted.
I would have drowned in just the hint of your smile.
But this water's so cold, that's what I get for hunting,
I guess I'll see you on the other side.
It'd be such a waste to ignore.
I have to go, didn't pay attention to how late it's gotten.
You know, I gotta go.
Maybe then we can get to that vacation.
Next month, to see your folks.
Sure, she's a pain, but she's still your mother.
Maybe we'll get "stuck" on the road.
Like that time, when we went to Phoenix.
I can't remember a better sunset.
It's been too long, that's for sure, since we had a nice trip.
Maybe next month, let's talk tomorrow.
I know, you were planning to do some shopping.
I'm fresh out of good socks, could you get me a new pair?
Black should be fine, remember we have that wedding.
Saturday, the catholic church in the afternoon.
If I get home late, I won't wake you.
Got some work in the woodshed I need to do.
Sleep well, my love, see you in the morning.
I'll lock up like I always do.
I would have loved you any way that you wanted.
I would have drowned in just the hint of your smile.
But this water's so cold, that's what I get for hunting,
I guess I'll see you on the other side.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Marvin's Eulogy-final chapter
I've never been good with funerals, mourning, or grief. I don't berate myself for that. But sitting at my desk, trying in vain to process how things are, versus how they might have been, versus how they were, I feel like I've missed something.
And so I turn back to the screen, where I'm dutifully doing my job, staring at line after line of text, trying to give the submissions that we've been sent "meaningful, yet critical feedback" (as the mission statement reads) and I know I'm done here. This isn't the work that I wanted. I went to school. I got a degree. I found a job, at least somewhat related to that degree. I've always said that I could do any job, no matter where, or what, and find happiness in it. I'm beginning to think that this is what grief does to us. And I turn to the last page of Marvin's story, placing the page I've finished reading in the upturned lid of the giant box it came in to the left of my keyboard, and staring down into the now seemingly cavernous box at the final page. It's barely half a page really, and it reads:
Sue stood over his plot, after the other few mourners had gone. She'd told Jennings that she'd meet him at home for supper. Reaching into the recesses of the dark woolen coat that she reserved for funerals, she found it, the small bit of paper, gently folded into quarters, and then quarters again, to reduce its size to virtually nothing. She had no more tears to shed, only resolute desire to let things be...to let things go...
Unfolding it, letting it grow between her wind-burned fingers, she strove to grasp it gently even though the strong winter winds threatened to tear it from her.
She read, quietly, barely aloud,
"You're a bird that's flown away.
You're the spiraling plume a smoke in the distance
You're the unexplained palm and fingers, too high up on the wall.
You're what no one thinks of, when they think of love.
It's not what I miss, but everything I dream."
And she let it go, letting the wind take it away, across the plots, twisting and dipping in the wind around the headstones, and into the countryside.
I had no comments for that page.
Later as I walked home, climbing the steps and finding my way to the living room, I understood, for perhaps the first time, grief, and mourning, and loss, and funerals, and dark woolen coats kept in the back of closets, under plastic, to only be worn for such moments. I don't own a coat like that. I refuse to. Instead I sat down at the piano that I hadn't touched, save to brush the dust off of it, since before I lived alone. It was the family piano--dad had moved out of the old house after I did, and didn't have the space, and so asked that I take it. Grudgingly at the time, as was the way that I did everything then, I engineered it's removal and replacement in my apartment.
And I played a waltz, like the ones that I'd heard grandma play at family gatherings when I was little, and I missed some notes, and then missed them on purpose the second time through, deciding to call it revision instead of mistake. And it went like this...
You're a bird that's flown away.
You're the spiraling plume a smoke in the distance
You're the unexplained palm and fingers, too high up on the wall.
You're what no one thinks of, when they think of love.
It's not what I miss, but everything I dream.
...
And so I turn back to the screen, where I'm dutifully doing my job, staring at line after line of text, trying to give the submissions that we've been sent "meaningful, yet critical feedback" (as the mission statement reads) and I know I'm done here. This isn't the work that I wanted. I went to school. I got a degree. I found a job, at least somewhat related to that degree. I've always said that I could do any job, no matter where, or what, and find happiness in it. I'm beginning to think that this is what grief does to us. And I turn to the last page of Marvin's story, placing the page I've finished reading in the upturned lid of the giant box it came in to the left of my keyboard, and staring down into the now seemingly cavernous box at the final page. It's barely half a page really, and it reads:
Sue stood over his plot, after the other few mourners had gone. She'd told Jennings that she'd meet him at home for supper. Reaching into the recesses of the dark woolen coat that she reserved for funerals, she found it, the small bit of paper, gently folded into quarters, and then quarters again, to reduce its size to virtually nothing. She had no more tears to shed, only resolute desire to let things be...to let things go...
Unfolding it, letting it grow between her wind-burned fingers, she strove to grasp it gently even though the strong winter winds threatened to tear it from her.
She read, quietly, barely aloud,
"You're a bird that's flown away.
You're the spiraling plume a smoke in the distance
You're the unexplained palm and fingers, too high up on the wall.
You're what no one thinks of, when they think of love.
It's not what I miss, but everything I dream."
And she let it go, letting the wind take it away, across the plots, twisting and dipping in the wind around the headstones, and into the countryside.
I had no comments for that page.
Later as I walked home, climbing the steps and finding my way to the living room, I understood, for perhaps the first time, grief, and mourning, and loss, and funerals, and dark woolen coats kept in the back of closets, under plastic, to only be worn for such moments. I don't own a coat like that. I refuse to. Instead I sat down at the piano that I hadn't touched, save to brush the dust off of it, since before I lived alone. It was the family piano--dad had moved out of the old house after I did, and didn't have the space, and so asked that I take it. Grudgingly at the time, as was the way that I did everything then, I engineered it's removal and replacement in my apartment.
And I played a waltz, like the ones that I'd heard grandma play at family gatherings when I was little, and I missed some notes, and then missed them on purpose the second time through, deciding to call it revision instead of mistake. And it went like this...
You're a bird that's flown away.
You're the spiraling plume a smoke in the distance
You're the unexplained palm and fingers, too high up on the wall.
You're what no one thinks of, when they think of love.
It's not what I miss, but everything I dream.
...
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Most of You...
most of you
C am G C am G am
and there was a time, when i was awed just by your steps, and your caress, but now that's history, and it fades like the bleeding heart, embroidered there, upon my sleeve
am C E am F
and I heard you say, "who are you....to tell me what i can and cannot do" and i
C E F G
thought the most of you..the most of you...
and into the day...into the best kept memories that i ever could have saved and in the morning sun, I'd drive just like you always said i never should have done...
am C E am F
and I heard you say, "who are you....to tell me what i can and cannot do" and i
C E F G G7
thought the most of you..the most of you...
F C G am F
and it's always been the mel--Ohhh - deeee that's been so hard to find, but now it's
am F G
been cruuuushhhh--ing me under it's heel, and I'm leaving you all behind...
solo verse
am C E am F
and I heard you say, "who are you....to tell me what i can and cannot do" and i
C E F G
thought the most of you..the most of you...
half verse
Spent alot of time, discussing wrong and right and black and white, and pictures of that night.
C am G C am G am
and there was a time, when i was awed just by your steps, and your caress, but now that's history, and it fades like the bleeding heart, embroidered there, upon my sleeve
am C E am F
and I heard you say, "who are you....to tell me what i can and cannot do" and i
C E F G
thought the most of you..the most of you...
and into the day...into the best kept memories that i ever could have saved and in the morning sun, I'd drive just like you always said i never should have done...
am C E am F
and I heard you say, "who are you....to tell me what i can and cannot do" and i
C E F G G7
thought the most of you..the most of you...
F C G am F
and it's always been the mel--Ohhh - deeee that's been so hard to find, but now it's
am F G
been cruuuushhhh--ing me under it's heel, and I'm leaving you all behind...
solo verse
am C E am F
and I heard you say, "who are you....to tell me what i can and cannot do" and i
C E F G
thought the most of you..the most of you...
half verse
Spent alot of time, discussing wrong and right and black and white, and pictures of that night.
Can't Get Back...
Can't Get Back
C F C C G C
Come on moonshine, come on heartbreak keep your eyes on the white line, keep your foot near the break,
C Dm F G Am (2) am G G7
and drive...
C am Gsus4 G(2)
On a Southern road we came, we saw, we were unimpressed.
Although I'm certain you provided what you thought was your best.
F G C...F...G C
And I'm sure that we owe you another chance,
But there's nothing we've lost here, that we can't get back.
Off to the right, I'm sure I remember the blinking lights
All in a row, Telling us in no uncertain terms how high we could carefully go.
And I'm sure that we owe you another chance,
But there's nothing we've lost here, that we can't get back.
So we drive on, push away from the crowds that cling
Dust off, brush away the webs to find the true things, true things
C Dm F G Am (2) am G G7
La da da da's...
C F C C G C
Come on moonshine, come on heartbreak keep your eyes on the white line, keep your foot near the break,
C Dm F G Am (2) am G G7
and drive...
C am Gsus4 G(2)
On a Southern road we came, we saw, we were unimpressed.
Although I'm certain you provided what you thought was your best.
F G C...F...G C
And I'm sure that we owe you another chance,
But there's nothing we've lost here, that we can't get back.
Off to the right, I'm sure I remember the blinking lights
All in a row, Telling us in no uncertain terms how high we could carefully go.
And I'm sure that we owe you another chance,
But there's nothing we've lost here, that we can't get back.
So we drive on, push away from the crowds that cling
Dust off, brush away the webs to find the true things, true things
C Dm F G Am (2) am G G7
La da da da's...
View From Below...
view from below
B
Every time I look up there, you look down
Smiling whether through tears or frowns
I've seen you crying, when you think you're fooling
But salt water's never been shower water for me
Laying my head upon your chest, sweaty nights
"Where are we going...?" sleepily swirling kites
And you reply, "We're going nowhere." I'm sure
You think I don't see the many many layers
E D#m7 C#m B
This is my view from below
Your tears fall freely
E D#m7 C#m F#
These days moreso
And I can always see
B
Every time I look up there, you look down
Smiling whether through tears or frowns
I've seen you crying, when you think you're fooling
But salt water's never been shower water for me
Laying my head upon your chest, sweaty nights
"Where are we going...?" sleepily swirling kites
And you reply, "We're going nowhere." I'm sure
You think I don't see the many many layers
E D#m7 C#m B
This is my view from below
Your tears fall freely
E D#m7 C#m F#
These days moreso
And I can always see
Trubloff...
Trubloff
E A
and the trouble with you is that sting in my shoulder where your brother punched me, last july.
And maybe you can pardon my bitterness, but he can rot in that jail cell for another night
And the trouble with taking your cowboy home is they always rouse when you take off their boots.
And I'd like to apologize, but it's fair to say you rarely look before you shoot.
And the trouble with all these lullabies that I sing is that they get me so damn tired.
And I'd offer you a tilt-a-whirl time, but I'm afraid the midway's closed tonight.
And the trouble with you is me.
And the trouble with me is you.
E A
and the trouble with you is that sting in my shoulder where your brother punched me, last july.
And maybe you can pardon my bitterness, but he can rot in that jail cell for another night
And the trouble with taking your cowboy home is they always rouse when you take off their boots.
And I'd like to apologize, but it's fair to say you rarely look before you shoot.
And the trouble with all these lullabies that I sing is that they get me so damn tired.
And I'd offer you a tilt-a-whirl time, but I'm afraid the midway's closed tonight.
And the trouble with you is me.
And the trouble with me is you.
A & S... (unfinished)
A & S
A Dm C#m E
I see you standing there
it's dark, the parties over, letting down your hair
and you're still wearing a lazy smile, i bet i could make that last for quite a while
Sure your hips fit my hands, but we're so tired we can barely stand
And this wall is sturdy sure, but afflicted by what only that bed can cure
D A D A D A E
There was a time...there was atime....when you put your hand in mine....
Your mouth says all the things,
that i want to hear, that make my heart sing
But your eyes still apologize, and it's them that anesthetize
Shadows creep across the room, barely lit by a slivered moon
and dreaming now, your eyelids dancel, but nothing I couldn't rouse given half a chance
And there was a time...
Morning comes, blurry eyes and cotton mouth,
I couldn't care less, but i bet you'll send me out.
Covering up, suddenly so shy, you have to know, that I'm not that guy...
A snowglobe reflection on the way out the door
shows a future im wanting more and more
with your hair gone grey, but the sweetest smile
And I wilt against the closing door, and soak up the feeling for a while.
And remember that there was a time...
A Dm C#m E
I see you standing there
it's dark, the parties over, letting down your hair
and you're still wearing a lazy smile, i bet i could make that last for quite a while
Sure your hips fit my hands, but we're so tired we can barely stand
And this wall is sturdy sure, but afflicted by what only that bed can cure
D A D A D A E
There was a time...there was atime....when you put your hand in mine....
Your mouth says all the things,
that i want to hear, that make my heart sing
But your eyes still apologize, and it's them that anesthetize
Shadows creep across the room, barely lit by a slivered moon
and dreaming now, your eyelids dancel, but nothing I couldn't rouse given half a chance
And there was a time...
Morning comes, blurry eyes and cotton mouth,
I couldn't care less, but i bet you'll send me out.
Covering up, suddenly so shy, you have to know, that I'm not that guy...
A snowglobe reflection on the way out the door
shows a future im wanting more and more
with your hair gone grey, but the sweetest smile
And I wilt against the closing door, and soak up the feeling for a while.
And remember that there was a time...
Houston...
Houston When You Change Your Mind
E
A E Bm A
Where you goin, boy? Where you been this time?
Bm E D E
Just punch that ticket, love, before I change my mind.
It's always Houston, when I find you in my line,
What's down there that's got you tangled up inside?
D A D A
Is it the way they walk? Like they've got nothin' more than time to kill?
D A E E7
Is it the way they talk? That Southern drawl that makes you stay so still?
solo
Be on your way now boy, you got a job to do
Houston's just through that door, a few steps, and you'll be through
Good luck in Houston, I hope she treats you kind
I'll be here anyway, if you change your mind--because I like
The way you walk, like you've got nothin' more than time to kill
They way you talk, that long southern drawl, that makes me sit so still...
REPEAT CHORUS
REPEAT V1
D E D E A
It's always Houston when you change your mind
E
A E Bm A
Where you goin, boy? Where you been this time?
Bm E D E
Just punch that ticket, love, before I change my mind.
It's always Houston, when I find you in my line,
What's down there that's got you tangled up inside?
D A D A
Is it the way they walk? Like they've got nothin' more than time to kill?
D A E E7
Is it the way they talk? That Southern drawl that makes you stay so still?
solo
Be on your way now boy, you got a job to do
Houston's just through that door, a few steps, and you'll be through
Good luck in Houston, I hope she treats you kind
I'll be here anyway, if you change your mind--because I like
The way you walk, like you've got nothin' more than time to kill
They way you talk, that long southern drawl, that makes me sit so still...
REPEAT CHORUS
REPEAT V1
D E D E A
It's always Houston when you change your mind
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