1. |
Being Orange (FAWM 2019)
02:10
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It's never easy, being orange.
Everyone thinks that you look strange,
and ignores your cries of "Danger!"
from the Other and the Stranger.
Nothing rhymes when you're orange.
There's no time, when you're orange,
For listening, for reason, for courage.
I think I'll take my ball and go home.
It ain't a picnic, being orange,
when everybody else is blue,
and rushes to blame you
for things you swear you didn't do.
Nothing rhymes when you're orange.
There's no time, when you're orange,
For listening, for reason, for courage.
Build my wall or else go home.
Nobody loves you when you're orange.
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2. |
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In the middle of the night an intruder prowls,
leaving oatmeal congealed on the stove,
Raisin bran cemented on the side of the bowls.
And the Captain crunching under our feet.
Evaporating milk a gallon at a time,
Using every single bowl in the house.
Gobbling up all the Fruit Loops, leaving nothing behind.
I can't even find a spoon!
I'm gonna pull on my deerstalker hat
And follow up on every clue.
I'll polish up my magnifying glass.
When I find out, I'll know just what to do.
Who left it like this? Who's gonna confess?
Justice will be swift and sure.
The cereal offender will be cleaning up the mess.
Who's guilty? Is it me or is it you?
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3. |
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Down on the levee, forgotten men wait.
Deprived of life, abandoned by fate.
Nobody's looking for a better deal.
Everybody knows you can't borrow or steal.
Down on the levee, the wind howls and moans.
Down on the levee, all hope is gone.
No one expects tomorrow to be better.
Everyone says, "Don't bother, boy, forget it."
Down on the levee, the race has been run.
Soaked by the rain, and burned by the sun.
Gnawed by hunger, and blinded by thirst.
Down on the levee, expect the worst.
Down on the levee, all hope is gone.
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4. |
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In the early days of springtime,
As the sap begins to climb,
And the critters moan and whisper, stirring in their lairs.
There's a certain special feeling
That sets their hearts a'reeling
As they wake, and feel the urge to sort themselves in pairs.
Some announce themselves with keening,
While others take to preening,
Trying hard to catch someone's ear or eye.
Horns begin to rattle,
As the bulls begin to battle
And bugle their desire, as the cows look on and sigh.
Look at me! (Mate with me!)
Can't you see (Mate with me!)
That we
Should be together.
Don't be absurd! (Mate with me!)
Haven't you heard? (Mate with me!)
That's just for birds
Of a feather.
The grouse is roughly drumming,
The frogs and toads are humming
Singing in a chorus that is deafening to hear.
The bison grunt and snort
To announce they're paying court
Seeking out a new love, at this special time of year.
Look at me! (Mate with me!)
Can't you see (Mate with me!)
That we
Should be together.
Don't be absurd! (Mate with me!)
Haven't you heard? (Mate with me!)
That's just for birds
Of a feather.
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5. |
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Drivin' into Memphis, through the lightning and the hail
Don't know if I can mend this, but I can't afford to fail.
My fingers achin' from my grip on the steering wheel.
Drivin' into Memphis....
Drivin' into Memphis, my windshield drenched in rain,
I surely never meant this, but here we are again.
Is there still time to set things right, or must I hold the blame?
Drivin' into Memphis....
On the streets of Memphis, but I can't find her face.
Don't think I could have prevented it, now everything's out of place.
Which bridge to burn, which way to turn, to find some saving grace
On the streets of Memphis....
Drivin' out of Memphis, my task left undone,
Innocence undefended, my battle unwon,
I can't set things right, keep up the fight, if she's still on the run.
Drivin' out of Memphis,
Drivin' out of Memphis,
Drivin' out of Memphis....in the rain.
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6. |
Two-Hearted (FAWM 2020)
03:56
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Between a two-hearted woman, and Bell's Two-Hearted Ale.
Whichever one don't kill me, will likely land me in jail.
Broken love's my downfall, leaving just a raging thirst,
Betrayal or the bottle, I don't know which is worst.
Everything in moderation, the wise folks always say,
Started off quite moderate when I woke up today.
Moderate turned extreme, whe she said our love had died,
Now I'm draining these bottles, to fill the emptiness inside.
I thought "forever" was bound up in the words we said,
"Until something better" seems to be what she read.
Don't know how to forgive that, not sure that I should try.
It's easier to sit here and drink that tap dry.
Between a two-hearted woman, and Bell's Two-Hearted Ale.
Whichever one don't kill me, will likely land me in jail.
Broken love's my downfall, leaving just a raging thirst,
Betrayal or the bottle, I don't know which is worst.
Hey, bartender, won't you pour another round,
My new friends are as thirsty as my soul.
Don't know any answers, but I do know that I've found
Misery craves company in its hole.
Between a two-hearted woman, and Bell's Two-Hearted Ale.
Whichever one don't kill me, will likely land me in jail.
Broken love's my downfall, leaving just a raging thirst,
Betrayal or the bottle, I don't know which is worst.
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7. |
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Tres Seaver Fredericksburg, Virginia
Tres Seaver is a songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, whose songs range from Piedmont/fingerstyle blues to early country and folk.
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