Done

Done


Summer falls and winter springs
I know this line don't mean a thing
I stole it from some guy I know
Writes some real good songs

He said "Winter springs and Summer falls"
I turned it round, made that call
I thought it made me sound real tall
... it didn't
Still, I... I don't wanna be done
I... I don't wanna be done

I know that time is not the friend
I sense the race is near the end
This old cliche, it don't have far to run
I... I don't wanna be done

There's an apple tree beside the porch
A paddock, barn, a willing horse
A good ol' dog, just wanna have some fun
I... I don't wanna be done

A parking lot, a parade
Line of people, cars with flags
Grassy field and trees and shade and sun
Memories, some are real
Too familiar with the way this feels
All that's left is left with Neil
And those Sugar Mountain days
And, I... I don't wanna be done
I... I don't wanna be done

I know that time is not the friend
I sense the race is near the end
This old cliche, it don't have far to run
I... I don't wanna be done
I... I don't wanna be done

Summer falls and winter springs
I know this line don't mean a thing
I stole it from some guy I know
Writes some real good songs

© DDC, 2011

Promise Land

I like old-time country stores and churches, old hardware stores, old barbershops and old-time bars with tin ceilings. If I had my choice, a large portion of my time would be spent in those sacred places. And when one of them vanishes into the shadows of our past, our beautiful country dies a little more... along with what is left of my people's heritage.

A couple months ago I was driving through a little Ohio town and saw that one of my favorite country stores was gone. In the window was a sign advertising the space as the meeting place for a church.

Have you noticed, how in tough times, the small town stores vanish and many are replaced by the common but still strange phenomenon of the Non-denominational storefront Church -- you know, the ones with the full sentence-length names?

Well, whether it's a foxhole or Main Street USA, human nature doesn't change much, do it....

Who or what do you put your faith in? The power of the US economy? The government as an extension of the "good" in humanity? Your neighbors? Smooth politicos with big plans and promises they can't pay for and designs on your wallet? Your pitifully frail and fatally flawed human self? Or the God so big that he holds universes in His hand and so artful that He designed every strand of your DNA - and knows your every thought.

This is a rough. And, if you care to reference, you'll find numerous paraphrased (and twisted) quotes from MLK throughout:

Promise Land

I used to drive thru every week or so, past the stoplight at the Dew Drop Inn
Get some egg-salad sandwiches, mayo, pickle relish, mustard mixed right in
Local farm-raised Chocolate milk right from the Amish Friends
As an early lunch, it’s good hang-over medicine

I didn’t pass thru for a year or more, and the economy set in
Blue-collar blight hit all the hotspot gentrification
No matter who the blames goes to, changes come with the election
While we all play our little violin

And the Village Store is now the village store-front church
With a name from a list of promises made from a politician’s perch
On a stage so far removed from all the pain and hurt
That you can’t see the end of all the promises
You can’t see the end of all the promises

It’s the Pentecostal Church of The Holy Roller Sanctified
To the 13th and no longer secret Apostle Stan the Mortified
Praise the ego as the alter on which the future’s sacrificed
A long-lost verse and a smaller slice of Pie (The Day the Future died)

Hope and Change and Righteousness and Love and Peace all Come To Him
With the Seven Signs, Four Horsemen, Second Coming tacked right on The End
Sweet Mary Holy Mother of All Sinners Take me IN
Oh save me... Hymn Forty-three

Oh, promise us the Promise Land
Promise us the Promise Land
Command the deficit to part
Right through that big hole in your heart
Raise that dead electric car
Put down your jobs and follow him
Oh… follow him

Golden tongue and golden words fall on the floor and spin
Make you dizzy with a light that glows from who knows where-why-how-and-when
Struck down there by the Spirit that flows around, without, within
Testify and tell a lot in the silence of your friends
If empty suits can empathize, oh… let him

The arc of the moral universe is long, but not that long
When it slips the balance point and it all tips toward wrong
No matter all the unarmed truth and love we dare sing in song
If there’s no justice
And there’s no mercy
And nothing burning
But the urgency of now

Oh, promise us the Promise Land
Promise us the Promise Land
Command the deficit to part
Right through that big hole in your heart...

And the Village Store is now the village store-front church
With a name from a list of promises made from a politician’s perch
On a stage so far removed from all the pain and hurt
That you can’t see the end of all the promises
You can’t see the end of all the promises

You can’t see the end of all the promises

You can’t see the end of all the promises

Ah, promise us the Promise Land

© DDC, 2009

The Funeral Plan...

The Funeral Plan

Here’s the deal:
I get to be right just one more time
So dispense with the speechery
There's nothing you can say
John Prine hasn't said better
Cut to the chase,
Crank it up and play them:
The Twenty-two Songs That You Can’t Live Without™
The order is important

And you people listen
While I drive the old jeep to the end of the road
I can smoke now. Flick the ashes out the window
There’s a half-bottle of bourbon under the seat
A cooler of good beer behind it
And if death is just a part of life
Then life is good

Listen
Just listen. I swear, just one more…
Oh, I forgot about this one
Who's driving?
Don't talk over the music
I'll make it loud enough
That you can't think of anything else
What else is there?
Gritty lyrics
In a back-country, four corner's bar
Up Jacob's Ladder, riding a simple melody
Down some full moon graveled track
That runs the ridge until it seems
To jump in between two rows of trees
And off into space

So listen
Then take them out there with you
When you go
Len - you remember the promise
Born To Live On Sugar Mountain
On the acoustic
In the parking lot
Sing it 'til I'm out of sight

Could Be...

(I just found a song I wrote over twenty years ago...)

Could Be

Could be the way that I was raised
Could be that deep inside the truth took root and stayed
Could be these days when restless will runs free
Could be a song still carries weight
Could be the distance between right and wrong
Measures more than shades of gray
Could be my thoughtlessness has led to this
And I can't seem to find my way

Oh, still scared I'll be caught
One certain, summer sunrise
On the wrong side of the tracks
Standing there 'twixt good and evil ties
...Lot's Wife
Forever looking back

Could be good fortune and God's Grace
Could be His Hand that carries, cares and had me placed
Within the privilege of this wondrous land
From comfort's womb to righteous stand
To see the inside of their faith
Endless prayer for prodigal heartache
Witnessed all and given every break
And only Jesus blood can save

Oh, still scared I'll be caught
One certain, summer sunrise
On the wrong side of the tracks
Standing there 'twixt good and evil ties
...Lot's Wife
Forever looking back

Could be the way that I was raised
Could be good fortune and God's Grace
Could be His Hand that chooses, carries, cares and placed me in that Grace
Could be a song still carries weight
Could be the way that I was raised...

Campaign Trail

Cover of John Gorka's

Campaign Trail

Gravedigger - cover...

Cover of Dave Matthews'

Gravedigger

Where The Sun Shines Through

Where The Sun Shines Through

Put me down
Where the grass is green
Down near close
Where I dreamed my dreams
Where a big ol' tree
Throws a big ol' shade
But where the sun shines through

Take me home
While you live life
Home with you
Is never Bye and Bye
And it is sweet
And it will be
Home

I can go
But I won't leave
Going's easy
And I Believe
And I've always been happy
Hangin' 'round
With you

So put me down
Where the grass is green
Down near close
Where I dreamed my dreams
Where a big ol' tree
Throws a big ol' shade
But where the sun shines through
Where the sun shines through

© DDC, 2006.

Funeral Songs... Everybody needs a list.

Subject to revision, I hope.

Funeral Songs

Elegy -Bruce Cockburn
Flying Red Horse -John Gorka
You’re On Your Way -John Gorka
Love Is Our Cross To Bear -John Gorka
If I Could Forget to Breathe -John Gorka
Kind Woman -Chris Smither (Richie Furay cover)
‘Til I Gain Control Again -Blue Rodeo (Rodney Crowell cover)
Dark Angel -Blue Rodeo
Know Where You Go/Tell Me Your Dreams -Blue Rodeo
Simple Song -Lyle Lovett
Family Reserve -Lyle Lovett
Glory of True Love -John Prine
Clay Pigeons -John Prine (Blaze Foley cover)
Bear Creek -John Prine (Carter Family cover)
Long Monday -John Prine
Festival of Friends -Bruce Cockburn
Last Night of the World -Bruce Cockburn
He Came From the Mountain -Bruce Cockburn
Southland of the Heart -Bruce Cockburn
All The Diamonds -Bruce Cockburn
The Color Green -Rich Mullins
Silver Garden -The Everybodyfields
Elegy -Bruce Cockburn

And Love You....

I was trying to channel John Prine. Didn't work, but I have no shame and it is sincere, so I put it down anyway.

Oh, my Sweet Bonnie. I wait forever...

And Love You

Before we make that move uptown
I want a chance to hold my ground
To stand right here another twenty years
And love you

Been walkin' circles, now I’m found
Been rescued from the lost dog’s pound
I’ve been redeemed and now I need
Time to feed on all the blessings

I’m grateful for the time we’ve had
Lord knows I don’t deserve all that
I've found the house where true love lives
Don't have to bust the locks and steal it

Tonight we’ll take a little ride
County roads in full moonlight
When I break and beg and pray for time
Just take me home and love me

You know I’ll follow you through thick and thin
Past the point where light grows dim
On though what most folks call the end
You are Love and love I carry

Before we make that move uptown
I want the chance to hold my ground
To stand right here another twenty years
And love you
Love you

© D. Dain, 2008.

Clue

This song started from a comment that I heard Lucy Kaplansky make about her mom.
So... leave clues. Lucy's mom said to.

Outside of "Bell In My Chest", this is probably my favorite personal composition. And, it IS personal. Not an untrue word or wish.

You know who you are -- Love Love Love

Clue

I didn’t leave a footprint in the sand
I’m not by the ocean
There might be one in the mud
I’m a stick – been stuck for years
Won’t be walkin’ on the Strand
I never made that kinda jack and those are not my people
Might be hangin’ with the band
They let me sing sometimes

And if you look for me, you’ll find me
Tho’ I never had one, I surely left a clue
If anybody knows, I’m certain that it’s you
‘cause you been there
It’s where I carry you…

Please, just no jokes ‘bout me
Drownin’ in my fears
‘cause there’s the very good chance
That it is true
And while it’s also true I had no neck
It's not that bad
‘cause it would not have been my best feature anyway
And I never missed it

All and all and all and all
Is Love Love Love
All and all and all and all
Is Love Love Love

And if you look for me, you’ll find me
Tho’ I never had one, I’m sure I left a clue
If anybody knows, I’m certain that it’s you
‘cause you been there
It’s where I carry you…
Oh, you been there
It's where I carry you

© Daniel Dain, 2006.

Santa Blues

Santa Blues

(Daddy, is Santa real? Oh, Daddy, is Santa real?)

Son, Santa lived,
But Santa died
He was shot down right out of the sky,
Over East L.A. in '95
By a bunch of Crips, while in the midst
Of a Christmas Morning sleigh-ride-by...

Pushing all the bounds of fashion
Dressed all in Red with White-furred trim
Stocking cap, Ho-Ho-Ho's
Big-buckled belt and lumps of coal
Trespassing was his only sin
A fashion faux pas did him in

(It was a fashionista’s teachable moment)

Was it The Grinch who sold
The Crips that rocket launcher?
The graffiti'd missile found the steam
Off Rudolf's button-nose... and blew
The whole damn sleigh, presents and all
To hell or where bad children go

As he fell, this hero of rotundity,
This bright-red savior of the milk and cookies set,
Shouted "Merry Christmas, Peace on Earth,
The whole wide world's my bloody turf"=
Including all that's tagged with blue spray paint
And the airspace over East L.A."

And so my Son, the moral of the story,
For there is always at least one of those,
Is Look for the unspoken rules and lines
And notice when they change
And do not cross without good cause
And always look down-range
And best not be a fashion horse
Safety first and stay the course
Stick to brown and green
They're not so easy seen

(Repeat 1st Verse)

Route 50 -- a Protest Song...

Route 50

Lookin' cross this country, from my front porch I can see
Big four-lane runnin' one-way down toward Washington DC
Seems change is rarely good, an' it's oh so hard to bear
I remember all this open range, before Route 50 got my share

Rollin' thru my little town, shops all boarded up
One stop sign, one gas station, take my time, I got enough
My job moved all the way to China, seems Route 50 takes you there
Glance across the street, and I say a little prayer

(Chorus)
'cause if you're there, a-starin' at that Store-Front Mission sign
It says "God Bless America, She's runnin' out of time"
Jus' 'cause it's up there on the plaaastic, don't mean it's set in stone....
But some things were better left alone

I can’t remember when my taxes ever came right back to me
Got Congress in my pocket, and they rob me blind, you see…
Bunker Hill and Trenton - Lord, "The Sons of Liberty”
Might be we need to throw ourselves a brand new tea-par-tee
(Bridge/music same as chorus)
I'll wear my Ten Commandment t-shirt when they stand me up ag’in' that wall....
Still my country, still my land, no blindfold – that’s my call
Can't remember where you come from and you ain't goin' anywhere.…
We bear left on Route 50, the future's flyyyin' through the air

I have known for years that Pogo got it right
We have met the enemy, and he's sittin' here tonight
And if God can bless this country, Lord -- He can take it alllll away
And it takes more than a plastic sign to keep ourselves at bay

(Chorus)

© 2006, D. Dain

Hope Springs...

Hope Springs

...even as The King flips his car and doesn't walk away,
the Tribal Elder is carried home from the hunt,
and eleven generations of farm slide across the auction block
Hope springs...

As the journeyman catches The Champ with that lucky left hook,
the World Tree catches a fungus and starts dropping limbs,
and we dig up our beginnings as our middle sneaks on past
Hope springs...

And we watch the sea rise, swaying in waves of All You Need Is Love
Love...

On a blue ball of clay with aging courtesan's fading charms
We wagered wrong, wandered too far off the farm
We discounted faith, amazing grace, ignored conscience's alarms
Hope springs...

Didn't think, crossed the brink, pausing only to re-arm
Counted greed a virtue, lied and said we meant no harm
And our posterity's a radio signal brushing by the last star of our spiral arm
Hope springs...

It's diving past galaxies, lined up like standing stones
Straining at the reins and and racing down the long hall
Toward home

While we watch the sea rise, swaying in waves of All You Need Is Love
Love...

Memorial Day...

Well, here we go again, folks. It's Memorial Day. Seems the Memorial "just gets bigger as we go. Bales of memory like boats in tow." It's now the 3rd without my Dad. Well, not really. He's here. And there. Going to take his Bronze Star out to him for a little visit on Sunday.

Memorial Day

It's Memorial Day
I'm goin' back to the old town
Back to the little white Church
Up on that Higher Ground
Gonna walk in the street
Gonna see the parade
Gonna smell all the flowers
Gonna visit the graves
On Memorial Day

And we'll talk about the kind of man
Who'd lay his life down
I've seen him on the street
He's from our hometown
The catch, the "gleam of glory bright"
Is seeded on the mound
Here’s hopin’ that the cause was just
‘cause the cost keeps comin’ round

On Memorial Day
Back in the hometown
Back at the big white house
Up from the old playground
Gonna sit on the porch
Sip lemonade
The sweet and the sour
Go together... these days

Dusk fallin' on this oak-lined street
My toddler trips across my feet
Comfort's arms don't keep
A Crescent Moon
From hangin' in the east
And I ponder on a way of life
That draws it's strength from war and strife
Demands the bloody sacrifice
And wonder
That there might be a better way

On Memorial Day
I'm goin' back to the old town
Back to the little white Church
Up on that Higher Ground
Gonna walk in the street
Gonna see the parade
Gonna smell all the flowers
Gonna visit the graves
Gonna sit on the porch
Gonna sip lemonade
The sweet and the sour
Go together today
...Memorial Day

© 2006, D. Dain

Marlin 39....

A short exchange between Chuck Hicks and myself spurred me to this. Revisions are probably forthcoming, but don't expect all the cliches to disappear.

Marlin 39

Dad had a rifle
A Marlin Twenty-two
Pre-war Model 39
Octagon and all re-blued
The design was old,
It never changed
Every part was tried and true
Tried and true

Long one down a squirrel' eye,
Groundhog on the run
Showed me more than I could learn
Still, he taught me some
Most of what I ken
‘bout people and their kinds
It came from him
Dad had a Marlin 39

The barrel had a full eight sides
Dad had a few sides too
Still no doubt and no mistake
Straight-shooter thru and thru
Walk the trap-line cold and wet
Skin and stretch and dry
Life is choices, good and bad
Do it right and die
Dad had a Marlin 39

(Chorus)
He grew up in the mines
Working at fourteen
Didn’t learn to shoot back there
It was a favor from the war machine
He didn't talk it up
But old photos show the change
Just knuckled down and went to work
Wouldn't sow or throw the blame
It’s a Greatest Generation thing

God will not forsake
His people when they call
And though He will correct you, son
His Promise stands to break your fall
He has a plan for every man
Love God, land and line
In meekness and obedience
Grow peace and peace of mind
Dad had a Marlin 39

(Chorus)

God will not forsake
HIs people when they call

© D. Dain, 2008.

Crying For the World...

Crying For the World

Slipping silly into the street
Fresh from a four-star five-course fete
Six splits of wine between us
Cathedral looms, the steps are steep
But we’re laughing, light on our feet
Climbing, stuff a sawbuck in the poor-box

I got twenty dollars down on a conscience
And a Christmas Fund
Some adopted family is gonna have
… some fun
Excuse me, Happy Holidays,
Not Christmas
Nothing warm and fuzzy
In between us

We never get the full names, it's designed
To protect all those involved
We contact them, they’ll ask for more
We have set the resource ceiling on their cause
I bought a hammer once for Habitat
How can they compete with that?
Ah the moolah that I gave
The lives I've gone no miles to save

But my tears are all you need
For I love this life I lead
So, I’m crying for the world
I’m crying for the world
I’m crying for the world
And doing nothing
... nothing

Never known no worries, no
I've never been alone
Credit card and for emergencies,
Bail is one call home
Never thought much on privilege
How it fell to me and why
When your grown-up work is faking it
And built on the Big Lie
You take that deal and take and take some more
And driving home, break down and cry

I got twenty dollars down on a conscience
And a Christmas Fund
Some adopted family is gonna have
… some fun
When your grown-up work is faking it
And built on the Big Lie
You take that deal and take and take some more
And driving home, break down and cry
Ah, when your grown-up work is faking it
And built on the Big Lie
You take that deal and take and take some more
And driving home, break down and cry

So my tears are all you need
For I love this life I lead
And I’m crying for the world
I’m crying for the world
I’m crying for the world
And doing nothing
I’m crying for the world
I’m crying for the world
I’m crying for the world
And doing nothing
... nothing

Slipping silly into the street
Fresh from a four-star five-course fete
Six splits of wine between us

Shaky....

Shaky

I got shaky hands and leaky eyes
Tired of shilling compromise
Of lying liars' lying lies
And the way we eat it up
The full debt due is dreck and doom
The end of days might be real soon
We’re slouching toward a ready ruin
And the fire door is nailed shut

We fenced the range where freedom rang
Where Woody, Jack and Utah sang
Shining cities felt the pang
Slid down the hill in doubt
Cloud floats over Harvest Moon
John Smith and Pocahontas too
Thanksgiving came and stayed and grew
Then the gravy all ran out

(Chorus)
Oh my hands
Oh my eyes
Here we stand
And helpless I
Wish wishes win
One last, once more
Please send a course to hold
A steady oar
Toward that distant shore

Farmer Brown - he plant, he grow
Run the race - he place, he show
Banker take it all, foreclose
Class warfare by a nose
The framers never could relate
We're reined in, tamed, been replaced
With ruthless change for change's sake
And it's further down that road

(Chorus, then 1st Verse)

Cross my heart, hope to die
Boots off, loved one by my side
No shaky hands, no leaky eyes
Burn it down and start it over
Burn it down and start it over
Burn it down and start it over

© DDC ‘08

John Gorka cover: I Never Told You

As far as I know, JG never put this on anything but a couple bootlegs off of the monitor feed.

I Never Told You

Too Big

Too Big Slippery slopes, dominos down Tear a brick from the wall of our movie-set town To patch a hole in the hull of a boat run aground Full of hope that don't float, dreams that done drowned We conjure our money right out of thin air Backed by faith in faces with cool New York stares They’re talkin' the Bull and walkin' the Bear Treadin' where only derivatives dare Maybe we don't make anything, anymore Not counting food for the world, fodder for war Our clothes are from China, cars from Japan And it’s the Lie that is way too big to fail What don’t you understand? Aww, don’t you understand? Capital cronies, all skull and bones Makin' the book on all of our loans They guild 'em with Gold, Man, and Sachs 'em like Rome Bet it all on the red, hell, it’s only a home And it's not the banks, But the Lies that are Way too big to fail Keep telling them the whoppers, run the shell game Bail your buddies out of jail Our mothers and our fathers led an odd, Old-timey way of life Now, it’s leverage every little bit of blood, Grab the bonus, run and hide Just a stick and carrot really, Retirement slaps with an empty, open hand A lucky bowl of soup and sandwich nd a “Please, please, Mister, if you can?” "Please, Mister, if you can?" And, maybe we don't make anything, anymore Not counting food for the world, fodder for war Oh, and words, we make wonderful words, Just watch 'em fly Watch ‘em flutter a flag on a Forth of July Oh, maybe we don't make anything, anymore Not counting food for the world, fodder for war And plans, huge plans, recovery plans And it’s the Lives that are way too big to fail Now… what don’t you understand? It’s the Lives that are way too big to fail Now… what don’t you understand? Aww, don't you understand? © D. Dain, 2009

Bell In My Chest

This might be the best song I have ever written. Everyone else thinks so. What an experience. Never want to go through that again. Wouldn't trade it, though.

I usually start with a single phrase or idea. In the "Lovejoy" mystery series by Jonathan Gash. "Lovejoy" is a "antique savant" who, when in the prescence of a genuine antique, feels "a bell go off" in his chest.

Bell In My Chest

I do my best work while I’m waitin'
On You to find I’m home
The map I gave You
Was designed to keep You close
But the cards that I’m a-holdin’
Are all I got to show
You make Your hearts up
All alone

When we talk I bend back Your words
And I look all underneath
I work on all the ciphers
While the promises I keep
And I keep my promises
Like I know just what You mean
And I take it all
Real slow


(Chorus)
I got this Bell in my chest
And it’s keepin’ me alive
Good intentions, road to Hell
And all the rest is just a lie
I got this Bell in my chest
And it’s keepin’ me alive
Believe me when I say
You ring it every time

And You, You seem to know
More than I do
While I… I’m just a-hopin’
Things improve
You keep this slice of You apart
You got a pie chart for Your life and heart
And a bar that I can’t
Walk into

(Chorus)

(Repeat either the 1st or 2nd verse)

I do my best work while I’m waitin’…
On You… to find I’m home

© D. Dain, 1999.

Crispy...

Crispy

Crispy ‘round the edges
Ten years on the road
Use-ta drink and then I didn’t
Al's back an’ says "Hello"

Ruby’s out just south of Raleigh
Holdin’ down the fort
Sippin' front porch coffee
While I chart another course

Mornin's I be wishin' I be back there on that porch
But I'm loadin'-in a van outside a motel way up north
Evenin' come I'm burnin' down the house
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South

'times it's like a fog up in my brain
Things use-ta-be so clear, get lost up in that haze
An' the bitch is that I only know to do just what I do
Chasin’ down that single shot at fame
By knockin’ back a bottle full of blame

Crowd or no, we play the game
Three chords, the forth is just for show
Shame’s an almost empty room, you forget the ones who came
Even when they call you by your name
An' the bitch is - even then it ain't the same

Mornin's dream is back home with my Ruby on my porch
'stead I'm climbin’ in a van in a parkin’ lot up north
Ev'nin' come I'm burnin' down the house
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South

Oh, mornin's dream is out there with my Ruby on the porch
But I’m drivin’ through a drivin’ rain to a juke joint way up north
Ev'nin' come I'm burnin' down that house
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South
Yeah, ev'nin' come I'm burnin' down that house
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South
Tear a three-piece band like Sherman through the South

Little crispy ‘round the edges
An' ten years on the road

© D. Dain, 2009

Failed....

Failed

Red creek runs the hollow
Below the shotgun house on the hill
Next to the railroad trackin' toward the town
That like the mine done gone and failed
Failed, failed
Failed....

TV’s pickin’ up two channels
Charleston weak and Bluefield strong
The rest just went last winter
When the digital turned on

Molly left past two year now
Kinda put me in a crunch
Took the kid, the blame, and the free lunch
The truck is runnin' rougher
The ol’ John Deere needs a clutch
Money’s tight - hardly lasts the month

The Little One don’t write no more
The cards I mail come back
I miss her most, that crooked smile,
The light, the touch, the trust I had
Had, had...

If there was gas to burn I’d turn the truck
On back the poacher path
Take a chance a fresh-cut Cherry'll pull me
Past this winter’s wrath

The Amish don’t ask questions
Furniture don’t talk
I’ll confess my sins in private
To Grandpa’s curly maple Cross

But there’s two beers, half’a bottle
Jim Beam on the porch
Rack of wood and coulda-shouldas in my mind
Hot Stove on the radio
Oh Lord, I miss ol’ Joe
Even Baseball failed us over time

An' the little one don’t write no more
The cards I mail come back
I miss her most, that crooked smile,
The light, the touch, the trust I had
Had, had...

Red creek runs the hollow
Shotgun house on the hill
An' the railroad trackin' toward the town
That like the mine done gone and failed
Failed, failed
Failed....

© D. Dain, 2008.

Star Spangled Banner

Star Spangled Banner (clik for audio)

A two-chord (Until the last four lines) take on our National Anthem.

Broken....

Broken

You took the path of least resistance
And made it all your own
I've never seen such bland indifference
To a life of chances blown
And you say, since you ended up this way
It's all God's fault
Anyway, you were much too busy drinking
To return The Call

‘cause nothing’s never gone unplanned
You Fortunate Daughter
It's all one big command performance now
Losing track of real and true companions
They're leaving notes on doors
Filled with Xs, Os, and questions
And vague threats to call your Mom
It's not that they don't know just where
To find you, 'cause we do
And all the drinking buddies
They don’t balance out the true

And you lay your fate upon the bar
And you practice on your wistful smile
So busy keeping all good company
You show up after closing time
A stray cat, only better spoken
Throw blame over your shoulder
Never looking back at luck

Find the shallow formed relief
That frames the soft blond innocence
Mirror-glanced the barfly moths fall
Drawn to vodka flame
And all of them still love you more
Than you would care to think about
It’s a thing you can’t return
And it leaves you shamed
And you scorn the best the best can give
And dodge the worst just being who you are
And use and use and use the users over

And you lay your fate upon that bar
And you practice on your wistful smile
The better to be all good company
You show up after closing time
A stray cat, only better spoken
Throw blame over your shoulder
Never looking back at luck

Go, you swear
That piece by piece it's all under repair
While we both know that
Everything is broken
You show up after closing time
A stray cat, only better spoken
Throw blame over your shoulder
Never looking back at love

© D. Dain, 2007.

The Ice Queen of Athens County....

This is a bluegrass song. Kinda. Or it should be, and would be if I could play bluegrass.
In honor of Terrell Road, a local road that has "No Ice Control" signs at both ends.

The Ice Queen of Athens County

She’s the Ice Queen of Athens County
Lives up the top of ol’ Terrell Road
Ain’t nobody gonna go and see her
Where it’s always winter, there’s no ice control

And I know this girl
I know this girl
She’s always out of control

Don’ know nobody gonna touch her soul
No Saturday, no rock-an-roll
No college guys, no doe-say-doe
Jus’ keep them all away

She gotta garden and she watch it grow
Sweet potatoes, corn in rows
Dig ‘em, pick 'em, tote 'em down
To town on market day

No matter, spring, summer, fall
Who come courtin’, who can call
Reach that road, look up that hill
They turn around an’ go away

So she’s the Ice Queen of Athens County
Lives up the top of ol’ Terrell Road
Ain’t nobody gonna go and see her
Where it’s always winter, there’s no ice control

But I know this girl
Oh, I know this girl
She’s always out of control

She be lookin’ for a real, real man
Somebody with that special plan
The one who finally climbs that hill
An’ stays

But she’s the Ice Queen of Athens County
Lives up the top of ol’ Terrell Road
Ain’t nobody gonna go and see her
Where it’s always winter, there’s no ice control

Oh, I know this girl
Oh, I know this girl
I know this girl

© D. Dain, 2009

White Noise And The Road....

White Noise And The Road

White noise and the road
Static on the radio
Blue cloud movin' in
I'm countin' all my sins
Thousands to go
Two mile from home
If the guilty conscience drives
He'll try to skate on by
Hummm...

Love averts her eyes
Smiles a slow, soft sigh
She don' know no lie
But she hears 'em all the time
Hears 'em from the road
They echo down the halls of home
In paper motel walled phone calls
Of dirty deeds denied
Betrayal wears real thin
Chasin' down and out had-beens
Further 'round the bend
Wave goodbye and hello again
Again, again, again, again
Hummm...

And Love, sweet Love
Does what she does
But needs to be believed

Ties you thought would bind
Seem to loosen, fall behind
Fading from the blood
That still sings in floods of memory
I can take my lonely home
Do supper on my own
Love is somewhere waiting up
But now She's not for me
Hummm...

And Love, sweet Love
Does what she does
But needs to be received

White noise and the road
Static on the radio
Blue cloud movin' in
Countin' all my sin
Hummm...

piece d'retirement....

This is a very old song. Inserted here only because the times we are in prompted my memory.

piece d’retirement

At his retirement party, well they handed him a watch
And told him that there was no pension fund
All the lawyer said was that the union had been bled
And some white-collar type was on the run

And he thought about the time, way back in ‘89
When he chickened-out and went against the strike
There was no seniority, just three kids and a wife
And he thought, well this kinda serves me right

So he got up the next morning, ran the sweeper round the house
An’ headed for the cafe for some brunch
As he sat there watchin’ people watch cholesterol counts
He remembers when they used to call it lunch

And he thinks on all the blessings and all of the cliche
That come with the territory of old age
And wonders if it’s not too late for lightning to strike twice,
Grant him wealth and wisdom, and a twenty-year-old wife

When life begins at forty and you missed the startin’ gate
What happens when you’re sixty and the rent check’s two weeks late
And the monthly security society provides
Leaves you cleanin’ toilets at Six-Fifty-Five

An hour, a day, a month, a year; life is so much fun
Condemned to drinkin’ decafe and watchin’ ol’ reruns
He savors life’s last bite before retiring for the night
And sits down beside the bed to clean the gun
He sits there in that rocking chair
And carefully begins to clean the gun

© D. Dain, circa 1987(?)

Since Radio Died

When I was about two or three, my dad would stand me in his lap as he drove the big ol' Dodge toward home after Sunday evening Church. There were three radio towers on the hill above Crab Orchard, WVa, and I was afraid of them. Dad would gently laugh as he described the scene: "You would point up at the flashing lights and say, "the Towes, the Towes (I couldn't do "Rs" yet.). I afaid, I afaid."" Then he would let me hold onto the wheel on the way down the hill.

I'm still afraid, Dad. Just not of radio towers.

This has those towers, a Kristofferson(Stevens/Cash) song and a famous DJ's name in it -- and a sense of loss -- all of it.

Since Radio Died

Used to be there was a man down at the station
Used to be you could call him up and give him your request
Used to be he'd honor dedications
You could count on him to pull you through and always send his "best"

Used to be they kept the signal on location
Now on a real clear night you see the satellite from here
Used to be that tower pointed straight to heaven
And that flashin' light was always on to guard against the fear

(Chorus)
But since radio died I been spendin' my time
Lis'nin' to myself
It's not the singin' that's hard
It's the wishin' that I could do better
Since radio died I been waitin' a while
On things that never come
Dreamin's all but done since radio died

Payola turned to billboard corporations
You Peel it back and see the green all underneath
Sunday Morning Comin' Down Gospel and Salvation
Now it’s talkers, stock reports, wars and Middle East

(Bridge)
And some computer runs rotation from a bunker in LA
It's got a master list and never quits just-a-pushin' crap your way
It's got sixty-four - no room for more, and they all sound the same....
And as you drink, you think "You sad luck sucker, mebbe they'll play your song today."

(Chorus)
But since radio died I been spendin' my time
Lis'nin' to myself
It's not the singin' that's hard
It's the wishin' that I could do better
Since radio died I been waitin' a while
On things that never come
Dreamin's lost its size since radio died
Oh, dreamin's lost its size since radio died

Used to be there was a man down at the station
Used to be you could call him up and give him your request
Used to be he would honor dedications
You could count on him to pull you through
You could count on him to pull you through
Count on him to pull you through...

© D. Dain, 1999.

The Devil's Handshake

This started as a rip on 80's Arena-Rock Cowboy songs, then I tried to bring that into a modern setting. This song is for the TV Evangelists, politicians, Hedge Fund and Health Care Systems managers, and predators of all kinds.... Here's the flash: you CAN sell your soul.

The Devil's Handshake

I conned an earmark trickle-down
Like tossin' offa shot a' Crown
Cooked the books, gone to ground
Slush-fund glory bound
Bought the vote, got your money
Been cheatin' like a Bear eats honey
I'm a bad, bad man
There's an angry mob and an old oak tree
Somewhere in God's Grand Plan for me

I run your HMO and retirement plan
I take the taken, skim the scam
When I cash out, I leave town
They're still addin’ up the tab
Raise your rates, deny the claim
Dish out dividends in pain
The blood on my white collar
Cancels out the promises I made

I got Congress in my pocket
So my lobby's in your wallet
Dress it up in God and Country
Don't let fact get in the way
An' I can Testify right in your eye
An' mean the end I Justify
Twist the Truth and take The Fifth
Down to Judgment Day

The investors always call for more
So I moved that money way-off-shore
Revelation Seventeen
Says sumpin' 'bout a "Whore"
Playin' shell games with the gains
Got no conscience, got no shame
Hey, what year is that Champagne?
Ill-fated orphans curse my name

No time to turn and wave bye-bye
At the dead-end street with the One-Way sign
Knee-capped by a baseball bat
The HMO don't cover that
Blindfold all the lies I told
In a trunk ride down a river road
No six foot deep, just a shallow hole
22-long and a burnin' soul
The Devil's Handshake
Devil's Handshake
Devil's Handshake
It's waitin'
The Devil's Handshake
Devil's Handshake
Devil's Handshake
It's waitin'
I'm a bad, bad man

© Daniel Dain, 2008.

Be No Cushion....

Be No Cushion

There is darkness on the edge of our time
Along the line of our horizon
Under the smoke-rise we see them
Standing In the tongues of flame
There is a family resemblance
Sadness grabs our hearts

Barney, you must go now and tell Andy
Mayberry is dead
No more sleepy hair-cuts
Slow talks on slower golden
Afternoons
On a bench outside
A door that doesn't open
Anymore
Oh dear Barney
Times are such
Just one bullet will not do...

Laughing at that screaming little
Preacher in the pulpit
Waving his ancient Book around
"Crazy" don't mean maybe
Look NOW TIME IS and Hope
May not be found

And Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
When times get hard
Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
No cover Judgment's scars

The wise are with us always as they point out
That the sky has never fallen
Or wolf knocked at that door
They take pity on these simple songs
Our Father's bless'd Tradition
Curses flying from their mouths
Bound up in all their science
Yet still so unprepared
We beg them to come home

And Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
When times get hard
Love will be no cushion, be no cushion
No cover Judgment's scars

(Repeat 2nd Verse - "Barney..." and Chorus)

Three Poems on Judgment....

Three Poems on Judgment

God Has Turned His Back

Mouthing a collection of our vanities;
cribbing off lists from Solomon,

the Preacher on Mom's way-too-loud TV
said that God has turned His back on us.

In days when no one looks much past the bumper,
no side-glances or smiling nods; no eye contact

either for kindred spirit or dispirited bum.
The Town Square, all beautiful trees,

statue and fountain, with the empty Santa's House
surrounded by empty churches;

the cardboard signs at the on-ramp; all of it
might as well not be there.

And while Main Street’s dying, I'm sitting at the stoplight,
looking at the probably pretty girls

turning left across the bow of my old boat.
The sets of three-second frames

total a 90 second movie that could entertain,
but for the hands to ears that spoil the view.

No town square and trees, statue and fountain.
No empty prayers for either Christmas bling or Father Christmas.

Just instant message, voice-mail, call waiting.
And the collection rolls its way up the on-ramp,

past the cardboard "Out to lunch" sign propped against the curb,
facing away from Main Street below.

Green Town, Illinois:

Judgment runs fast
Flying through the dandelions
Catching up

And they don’t make Cream-Sponge Para Litefoot Tennis Shoes
Not anymore...
Not even in China

Fate lies in... now - not waiting
Years pass that tow-head boy
And scythes kiss the fields of Illinois


Midnight Snack

Judgment doesn’t waste time
Writing overwrought obituaries
Or talking sweet memories
Judgment doesn't do morality plays -
At least not from our script
Judgment reads Revelation Chapter Six
Aloud before bedtime
Its midnight snack is the local Rumor Mill.
A quart of wheat and three quarts of barley
The bread of its Dagwood
Our juiciest sins the meat
Our excuses the condiments
The overweight evidence
Of collective, hereditary guilt
Is Judgment's cold milk
The bones stripped bare -
Lying there on the plate
Still accountable

dc - 2008

Wings of the Harleys....

Wings of the Harleys -- John Gorka

Bottles back the bar
Lined up like choirboys
Singing to hide the scars they pour
The Woman there is wise
With a roughened whiskey voice
She’s the one that points you out the door
It’s pinball in the dark
’cause it’s a quarter for the lights
The Woman’s tips are nickels and dimes
Leather when it’s cool
Denim when it’s right
Like tattoos, some things don’t change with time

(Chorus)
It’s the power of the bottle
Oh, the currents flow in here
Where the Wings of the Harleys
All land for shots and beer
And all they ever want
Is to drink their fill alone
Make a little noise
As they head off for home

Some are big and mean
Some are in between
Some don’t care ‘bout nothin’ at all
Nothing but their bikes
And the neon lights
Some will clock you if they hear the call
But it’s not just the drinks
That bring the bikers in
It’s those four walls of freedom they can ring
The Woman there is nice
There’s no chains upon her wings
The only chains they need they bring along

(Chorus)

Ummm…
Bottles back the bar
Lined up like choirboys
Ummm…

When Fear Follows

I've never really been able to understand the concept of "necessary evil". I realize that there are people out there (a certain VP, for-instance) who use it as an excuse, needed for "our protection", but doesn't it just come down to "evil'? And how is that necessary?

When Fear Follows

Unsung heroes lost from memory
Returning home unwanted history
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the Trojan Horse within
Guns and bombs cannot compare
To the danger of the soul’s despair
And the cost cannot be counted
By those who were not there

Take the sons of a nation
Following their flag
Watch them return home, again
In a body bag
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the frozen corpse within
And economies can prosper
Without wars we do not win

(Chorus)

Home again
Fear follows, even here
Comfort sings, let freedom ring
Oh, take comfort in your fears

Guns and bombs cannot compare
To the danger of the soul’s despair
And the cost cannot be counted
By those who were not there
When fear follows retreat is impossible
From the Trojan Horse within
And the necessary evils
Mark everywhere we’ve been
(Chorus)

© D. Dain, 1996.