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.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
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
Sunday, November 01, 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 love the life 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.
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 love the life 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.
A two-chord (Until the last four lines) take on our National Anthem.
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