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...

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.

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

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 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.

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
Framed with 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.

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 may 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
And we fall and find how far...

The wise are with us always as they point out
That the sky has never fallen
Or wolf knocked at that door
They pity us; our 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
We fall and find how far...
(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 30-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


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


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



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.

Toward Home

Insecurities abound, it seems. I always try to have enough gas in the jeep to make it home without stopping. Just in case....

Toward Home

Fog is layin' on the trees
Sun is swingin' low
Took my time a-gittin' here
Headed back as fast as I can go
And I’ll be feelin’ fine
and load it out my mind
Soon as I catch sight
Of that Hocking County line

‘cause 'I’m jus’ workin’ toward home
Work my way on down this road
‘til I can pull into the drive,
See my baby’s smile, and tuck into her arms
Dog sniffin’ on the tires
Checkin’ out jus’ where I been
They don’t tell time the way we do
But I’m more like them, than I’m like you
‘cause in the mornin’ when I go
Get jus’ ten miles off the farm
It’s already been a long, long while
An’ I jus’ wanna turn aroun’
But I got ninety more to drive
Then ten hours on the job
An’ it wears its way real thin
But lookin’ back on where I been
Love and Love's been on my side

(Chorus)
An’ I don’t know why
But I’m more connected all the time
Can’t stray too far
From my baby’s arms
An' everything is fine
take a load right off my mind
Soon as I catch sight
Of that Hocking County line

It’s another do and die
You push the good on thru the bad
Might be 'nother damn cliché, but one fine sunny day
I’ll turn it ‘round and take it home
One fine day,
I’ll do it right and stay

(Chorus)

An’ I’m jus’ workin’ toward home
Work my way on down this road
‘til I can pull into the drive, see my baby’s smile
And fold into her arms
Dog sniffin’ on the tires
Checkin’ out jus’ where I been
They don’t tell time the way we do
But I’m more like them, than I’m like you…
I’m more like them

© Daniel Dain, 2006.

All I Wanted Was This Picture....

I've been working on this one off and on for a long while. This is the latest incarnation.

All I Wanted Was This Picture

All I wanted was this picture
One thing I could carry and keep
Don’t let me go too long
Time’s I can hardly breathe

God did not grant me perfect vision
I was not blessed with Second Sight
A lot of life is solitary
No guarantee past faith and past moonlight

And all I wanted was this picture
One thing I could carry and keep
Don’t let me go too long
Time’s I can hardly breathe

In the mornings in the mirror
In the corner of my eye
A ghost of faith -- of moonlight, reaching
Past my shoulder, past my life
Past my shoulder, past my life

And the ghost, it haunts my waking hours
Old times reach to touch me while I wait
Like me, oh they’ve lost the pow’r
The ghost can hardly bear the weight
It carries for us both
There's a crack and now the light is leakin' out
Past the edge of that locked door
Shines back down the track of years
And I don't dare go back for more
It would never be so good

But, in the mornings in the mirror
In the corner of my eye
A ghost of faith -- of moonlight, reaching
Past my shoulder, past my life
Past my shoulder, past my life
Past my shoulder, past my life
Past my shoulder, past my life

And all I wanted was this picture
One thing I could carry and keep
Don't let me go too long
Don't let me go too long
Don't let me go too long
Don't let me go too long

© D. Dain, 2006.

Road Dancer....

I wrote this many years ago.

Jamie Brockett had part of an album in the can and I named this song after the working title....


Road Dancer

I never tell a lie
There's two sides to every story
And I ride that center line
Between reality and glory
And while I know
That love is not enough
Still I always
Let Her trip me up

Love's the road and I'm a dancer
Born to trouble and takin' chances
And I never get enough
Never get enough

From the beaches of Montana
To the shores of Baffin Bay
From the Rockies down to Boston Town
I've danced my life away
From a movin' motel box-car
To the Four-Star top-floor suite
Success somehow eluded me
And my restless, wanderin' feet

And hope is over the horizon
In a castle, just beyond my reach
And my Sleepin' Princess is a phone booth
Out behind "Merle's Gas and Eats"
An' I'm a-preachin' "Love and Peace"
But I'll be here all week....

Still, I never tell a lie
There's two sides to every story
And I ride that center line
Between reality and glory
And while I know that
Love is not enough
I always seem
To let Her trip me up

Love's the road and I'm a dancer
Born to trouble and takin' chances
And l never get enough
Never get enough
Never get enough
Never get enough

© D. Dain, 1992.

In honor of Ken Burns' WWII, on PBS.... "Know Fear"

Know Fear

The young man wore a t-shirt
That said he had "No Fear"
We bumped, I said "Excuse me son"
And sat down to drink my beer
And I saw the beach at Normandy
The trench at Guadalcanal
The jungle just outside Da Nang
And I wondered how
He don’t know fear

'til you feel the knife hit bone
And know the blood is all your own
'til you're starin' down the barrel
Four-thousand miles from home
And you think about your family
And you see them oh-so-clear
You don't know fear

Oh, you won't find it on the weight-room floor
Or on the football field
Pills and booze might by you some
But you need the thought they steal
'til the doctor said she's got bad news
And winter's hand comes callin' near
You don't know fear

'til you feel the knife hit bone
And know the blood is all your own
'til you're starin' down the barrel
Four-thousand miles from home
And you think about the one you love
And you see her oh-so-clear
You don't know fear
You don't know fear

The young man wore a t-shirt
It said he had "No Fear"

© D. Dain, 1997.

Fall Away

Fall Away

Call me home,
my own have never been that far from You
And I've been as all
since lilacs bloom, the stripers run and Summer's come
With only hope
I'm born into that Nature thing
Knowing right and doing wrong
I let it fall away

And I can't help
but think on where we used to be
Crying out for anything
Whistling past that fancy yard of our communal separation
We drive toward home
and all that all those left behind can say
Is that knowing right and doing wrong
We let it fall away

And call me home
But while I wait, I live here
Remember me
to my Dad, he won't forget
No matter how many
transient tears and sorrowful no mores get wiped away
It still springs
Oh, it still springs

----And I never look where I am going
----It's hard to tell just where I've been
----Might be sunny on the outside
----Inside is shadowed sin
----Standing up before the Judge
----Is talking to a friend

"… the least of these"
my arrival may be very unexpected
Having been nothing
but the subject of vague hope from just a few
Draw a line, Pretending to Belief to Destination
And it still springs
Oh, it still springs

----And I never look where I am going
----It's hard to tell just where I've been
----Might be sunny on the outside
----Inside is shadowed sin
----Standing up before the Judge
----Is talking to a friend

But call me home
I've never been that far from You
Across the Vale,
of forest, river, mountain, wailing wall of waiting
It cannot be
that far for me, I'm counting
I'm knowing right and doing wrong
Oh, don’t let me fall away
Oh, knowing right and doing wrong
Don't let me fall away

© 2007, D. Dain

Pimpin' The Blame....

Ok, this song/rap is a combination of two separate incidents that were directly related to me. I combined them with my own observations and interpretations. I believe that popular NeoCon radio personalities and well-known liberals are the ones "pimpin' the blame".
Pimpin' The Blame

you slither 'cross the tracks to my side of town
leavin' a trail of slime so the rest of your kind can follow, follow
across the street from the grocery sto'
you stand on the corner with yer $40 dollar 'ho'
1/2-a-block up from the jr. high school
fly ain't fly and cool ain't cool no mo', no mo'as we walk on by you never take your eye
from my 10-year-old daughter
you motion to the ho a-standin' there waitin' like a lamb led to slaughter
i'm between my little girl and the trash
hold on to her, keep her from lookin' back
i believe you, so believe you me
you owe a death to society
you ask "you wanna a piece a this?"a-here's a hollow-point you can kiss

and (chorus)
get the **** away from me boy i'll shoot you dead (x4)

escalades make the rounds 'round the block
still, it's all malt likker to the Clear Channel talkers
keep your ear to the ground and the neighborhood watchers
and you watch 'em turn up dead, dead
it's one thing to listen while you're ridin' in your car
about white-flight on the NPR
about the welfare system and ol' FDR
and the easy money made jus' pimpin' blame hard, hard
but it's another when it's does a drive-by on the neighborhood bar (chorus)

check the PC hypocrisy at the real world door
it's got nothin' to do with the real state of poor
the reaction in relation to the real state of things
you creep on the corner don't give a crap about blame
but if you could do radio you'd pimp that hate and sooner or later it's fish or be bait (chorus)

jus' pimpin' the blame, pimpin' the blame
it's got nothin' to do with the real state of pain
jus' pimpin' the blame, uh huh uh, and (chorus)
i'm between my little girl and the trash
hold on to her, keep her from lookin' back

© D. Dain, 2007.

Worth A Song....

Worth A Song

She can speak intelligencia
Make a mean cheese sandwich
Talk Latin to the dog

Long, black dresses
Italian table wine
Too much education
Way too much free time
and too much coffee

Wouldn't you say
She's worth a song?

© D. Dain, 1990.

Nashville Train....

This is an old one that recently made it back into rotation in our somewhat spotty practice schedule....

Nashville Train

All my life, I've been waitin' on that train
To roll through my town and past my house and carry me away
Didn't matter much to me how the track was laid
All I knew is I would do almost anything

And if you listen very carefully
You hear that Nashville Train
From Memphis out to Muscle Shoals
And the little towns that lie between
And I don't know jus' when I'm leavin'
Or even if my ticket's paid
Think of all the dreams I wasted
Waitin' on the Nashville Train

There are things that you can come to love
More than life itself
They can pull you down and turn you out
Leave you stale up on that shelf
An' while I'm not too sure
What this life is all about
All I know is I could do
With a little less self doubt

And if you listen very carefully
You can hear that Nashville Train
From Athens out to Bato' Rou'
And all the dreams that lie between
And I don' know jus' when I'm leavin'
Or even if I'll make the grade
Think'n "all the time I've wasted"
Waitin' on that Nashville Train

There's a lot of people out there
Been waitin' jus' like me
An' waitin' never done no good
Never set no captive free
And I been sittin' here too long
To worry on my state of mind
When it comes to movin' on
There's always things you leave behind

And all my life
All my life....

And if you listen very carefully
You hear that Nashville Train
From Memphis out to Muscle Shoals
And the little towns that lie between
And I don't know jus' when I'm leavin
'Or even if my ticket's paid
Think of all the dreams I wasted
Waitin' on the Nashville Train

© D. Dain, 1998.

Rublev's Dog - "What kind of dog is that?"

Great little article/introduction. A right-thinking guy, Chuck, of Rublev's Dog.


http://rublevsdog.blogspot.com/2007/05/dogs-weltanshaung.html

Effective Love

My father went to be with his Father at eight-thirty AM, May 3rd.

He spent his life, both public and private, caring for people.

As he grew older, he lost some of his considerable mental faculties. But he still had the ability to shoot to the heart of the matter.

Love, he said, defined for practical purpose, is simply "beneficial caring". And he didn't mean just the niceties of modern philanthropy, writing that check to the deacon's benevolence fund or aid for Darfur, but actual in-your-face care. For many, that check might assuage the guilt complex which passes for conscience, and provide a false self-satisfaction; but my dad's aim was "Effective Love".

So it comes down to what's important: the self-satisfaction most of us seek and settle for, or real, deep and abiding effectiveness. Beneficial caring requires effort -- and response. It's a sure-fire guarantee of effectiveness, in both the giving and receiving.

Dad left school in the 8th grade to support his father, mother and sister. Called away from this for WWII, he refused a deferment and achieved the rank of Staff Sergeant in the Army. As a member of an anti-aircraft artillery unit, he served for 3 ½ years in the European theater from North Africa, Sicily, Italy, France to Germany, being awarded a Bronze Star -- which he never wore.

He returned to assume care of his family, caring for his own invalid father for eleven years.

The young man who didn't get past 8th grade taught himself to read both Hebrew and Greek, and taught college courses.

He was the best father a boy could hope for and the best friend a man can have.

My dad was effective. And his whole life was a demonstration of Effective Love.

And my father was a righteous man.

My father IS a righteous man.


Love you, Dad. Goodbye and hello and see-you-soon.


"And there are more i remember
And more i could mention
Than words i could write in a song
But i feel them watching
And i see them laughing
And i hear them singing along

We're all gonna be here forever
So mama don't you make such a stir
Just put down that camera
And come on and join up
The last of the family reserve"

- from The Family Reserve, by Lyle Lovett


And the moon is a sliver of silver
Like a shaving that fell on the floor of a Carpenter's shop
And every house must have it's builder
And I awoke in the house of God
Where the windows are mornings and evenings
Stretched from the sun across the sky north to south
And on my way to early meeting I heard the rocks crying out
I heard the rocks crying out

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green
That fills these fields with praise

And the wrens have returned and they're nesting
In the hollow of that oak where his heart once had been
And he lifts up his arms in a blessing for being born again
And the streams are all swollen with winter
Winter unfrozen and free to run away now
And I'm amazed when I remember Who it was that built this house
And with the rocks I cry out

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green
That fills these fields with praise

- from The Color Green, by Rich Mullins

Darkness at the Edge of The Shire

Mayberry Existence

Took the long way (Is there any other?) back to Athens last night, and coming down the hills back of Lithopolis I looked across into the valley west of Lancaster and north of 33 and saw the new Dominion-Centex-MI-etc., moneypit/cookiecutter scourges, all packed in on top of each other.

It reminded me of a smaller version of the view-by-air of Denver, or the West side of Columbus from certain parts of Interstate 70. My first thought was, "Dear Lord". My second thought was "fly - run for your life". Then it all went behind the hills and I turned up the everybodyfields and headed toward the Mayberry part of my existence.

Darkness is coming to The Shire.

Elijah

Elijah -- Rich Mullins (Oct. 21, 1955 - Sept. 19, 1997)

The Jordan is waiting for me to cross thru
My heart is aging I can tell
So Lord I'm begging for one last favour from You
Here's my heart - take it where You will

This life has shown me how we're mended and how we're torn
How it's O.K. to be lonely as long as you're free
Sometimes my ground was stony and sometimes covered up with thorns
And only You could make it what it had to be

And now that it's done
If they dressed me like a pauper or if they dined me like a prince
If they lay me with my fathers or if my ashes scatter on the wind
I don't care

'cause when I go I wanna go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars it'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye

There's people been friendly but they'd never be your friends
Sometimes this has bent me to the ground
But now that this is all ending I want to hear some music once again
'cause it's the finest thing that I have ever found

But the Jordan is waiting though I ain't never seen the other side
Still they say you can't take in the things you have here
So on the road to salvation I stick out my thumb and He gives me a ride
And His music is already falling on my ears

There's people been talking, they say they're worried about my soul
Well I'm here to tell you I'll keep rocking 'til I'm sure it's my time to roll

And when I go I wanna go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars it'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye

Rich Mullins was killed in a car crash in 1997. He was ejected from his vehicle and died immediately. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rich_Mullins

The Demographic Blues

Hummm, lessee. This is for Fred Eaglesmith, Chris Knight, Tommy Womack, Todd Snider, etc.... Just about every "alt-country" player out there.

The Demographic Blues

Here's a song for you; it’s the Demographic Blues
Oh, a song for you, the Demographic Blues
Keep your head on loose and your buzz on straight
No hesitation
Oh, the Demographic Blues

He's a not-so-angry, not-so-young white male
Oh, not-so-angry, not-so-young white male
Got no discretion and no income
And no hesitation
Not-so-angry, not-so-young white male

No self-starters, got no careers in sales
Oh no self-starter, no career in sales
He got two pair a shoe and three pair a pant
An' a 12-pack left after Uncle Sam
Not-so-angry, not-so-young white males

Now, my demographic, it don't look like yours
My demographic, it don't look like yours
Yours has potential and stayin' power
Mine blows his wad on some passed-out-drunk chick's whiskey souuurrrrr....
My demographic sure don't look like yours

(Optional bridge)
Now, I’m shakin’ in my ratty blue suede public radio shoes
When I think about just who listens to who
My cohort segment scares me
I got a case a demographic envy
I take my market research way too far
Spendin' all my time down at the bar

(Break)

My demographic's tryin' to make bail
If he's not right now, he'll soon be sittin' in county jail
He's got one phone call and a bidness card
Two Tylenol, one match and he's been barred
And the smart money says nobody's pickin' up

Oh, those not-so-angry, not-so-young white males
Those not-so-angry, not-so-young white males
Got no discretion and no income
Choosin’ just desserts in lieu of fun
Those not-so-angry not-so-young white males

(repeat 1st verse)

© D. Dain, 2007.

The Angry American

I know this guy. He is a cliché. But this is the guy that everybody in the world sees.
He blames China or Korea or Mexico for the problems caused by his own government.

But, he'll end up working as a greeter at Wally-World.

The Angry American

White number three
Back window of his SUV
Power of Pride
Two sticker for ev-er-ree side
And he tears up that freeway
Flying finger in the wind
Ahh, the wonderful world
Of the Angry American

Feel sorry for me, he say
He used to work in that factory
Now the job is Chinese,
And they’re tearing it down
That’s just half the good news
Things are bound to improve
Now Wal-Mort's movin’ in
On that Semi-hallowed ground

And his half-brother's in line
For a "greeter" job, now
We're fallin' further and faster
Hey, ain't the Founders proud?
A history of ignorance
That cannot be feigned
The presumed to be Empire
Slides down the food chain

And we shall be known by our stickers
By the red, white, and blue
'cause it shows --
Oh, it shows… you
Emotions get stirred
And it never occurs
Through all the talking points and spin
That we recognize just where we been
And the deadliest of deadly sins
Somehow, it never goes out of fashion

(Repeat 1st verse.)

Feel sorry for me, he say
Feel sorry for me, he say
Feel sorry for me, he say
Feel sorry...
For me

© D. Dain, 2007.

He Came From the Mountain -- Bruce Cockburn

Bruce Cockburn from Sunwheel Dance.

He Came From the Mountain

He came from the mountain,
to walk among the wounded.
They couldn't see Him.
But the snow did melt whenever he passed by.

He came behind winter,
His face was like the sun.
They wouldn't see it,
But He sang on the bank that made the waters run.

In His world, we wait.
In His hands, our fate.
Keep on climbing.
We shall see His gate in good time.

He came to the lowlands.
He said we must have faces,
So we could see like him,
Before our wings would ever come to fly.

In His world, we wait.
In His hands, our fate.
Keep on climbing.
We shall see His gate in good time.

Powerlines and Pogo

I'm adding this in deference to my buddy Karl Conrad, AKA "Harmless". When we played regularly, this was one of our first originals. I got the idea while driving home on route 33, chased by a storm and looking at the powerlines crossing the road and marching off into the distance. This was possibly influenced, at least in my first thoughts, by CS Lewis' description of "Norns" in "Out of the Silent Planet".

Power Lines and Pogo

Giant stick men walkin’
They carry lightning in their hands
They proceed in single minded files
All across the land

They fence out the horizons
Defile them where they can
They carry lifelines of destruction
That only awful change demands
And only fear can understand
That we have met the enemy

There is sickness in the sunlight
There is sickness in the air
All around and underground
Sickness everywhere

We drink it in our water
It falls upon our heads
It creeps up from behind us
To catch us in our beds
Is there something more to dread?
Got to be something more….

And we have met the enemy
Yes, we have met the enemy
Oh, we have met the enemy

© D. Dain, 1995.

She's Got My Heart

This might be the worst song I have ever written. But it is pretty catchy.

She’s Got My Heart

She’s got my heart
And everything that matters to me
She’s got my heart,
My credit card, and my brand new car

You know, I never go for the easy rhyme
Just to prove it, I’ll take us back in… time

When she had my heart
And every thing that mattered to me
She had my heart,
My big ol’ house and my good ol’ dog

Yeah, you can tell where it’s goin’ from here
So relax, sit back and pop another beer

‘cause she’s got my grill
My brand-spankin’ new two burner grill
She’s got my grill,
But the propane tank is empty

What she’ll do, nobody knows
I suppose she’ll make a real quick trip to Lowe’s
But she made that trip for nothin’….

'cause I’ve got the final laugh
My credit card is a-finally maxed
And she’s got the final tear
‘cause my poor heart is broken

© D. Dain, 2007.

Covington

Years later, we still get requests for this one. True story, and I would post the chords, except that only Bruce knows them.

Don’t Take Your Gun to Covington

Well, won’t you sit an’ listen, buddy
I got a tale that I can tell
Some advice at a real nice price
I got nothing lef’ta sell
Oh the weekend come with plans for fun
Hear some music, ‘cause I’m a fan
And if you had seen me way back when
You’d say, “There goes a happy man”

Well, I headed toward the border
Down that interstate
Thru Cincy into Newport
Ahh, to that Southgate place
Well, I never saw it comin’
Or I would’a stayed away
The cops down there have got a thing
For white Toyotas with Ohio plates

(Refrain)
Now, don’t you take your gun down to Covington
‘cause you’ll end up in jail
And if you do, you better make real sure
Somebody gonna go your bail

Well, there’s not a whole lot happenin’
Sittin’ in a holding cell
I got cigarettes and rationed matches
Steel benches, cold as hell
Warm milk on my Cheerios
Liver for my lunch
While over in the corner
Another Kentucky drunk up…. well, you know

My brother come to get me
‘cause he’s a real nice guy
I never was so glad to see him
And the freedom he could buy (Refrain)

(Talk-it-through)
Now, there’s a phone over in the corner, guys
Why don’t you line up and make your calls
An’ if ain’t nobody gonna come and git you
You might be here ‘til Moooonday Mornin’ (Refrain)

(Talking it)
My lawyer say he can git me outta this
But I ain’t countin’ on nothin’ (Refrain + Refrain)

© D. Dain, 1998.

Silver Wheels

Rolling through a PA night, somewhere between State College and Bethlehem.

Silver Wheels

Silver Eagle rollin’
through a Pennsylvania night
Past little farms asleep
inside their circled safety lights
Like little pools of righteousness
that stand against the dark
With help from a harvest moon
and a solitary star

They go to bed real early,
out west of Bethlehem
The towns close down
and the theory is that trouble can’t be found
Oh, you and I know better,
but why worry them with proof
We slide by on wings of eagles,
like an ill wind blowin’ through

(Chorus)
And we see the world on silver wheels
We are travelers and know
that life like this just can’t be real
Hi-ho silver wheels
Hi-o, hi-o
O-hi-o silver wheels

We see the bad - ignore the good,
because the good does not bring danger
So used to the unusual
that the normal seems a stranger
We can take the trash talk,
gangs and scams and all the jive
But the Good Word and a “God Bless you, Sir”
seem to take us by surprise

The things that are important here
seem easier to see
Could it be that we just need
something simple to believe?
Or are we just too jaded
by our travel and our big-time greed
That we don’t see the value
in living clean and good and free?

(Chorus)

They go to bed real early
Out west of Bethleham

© D. Dain, 1997.

Depression Era

A look at my possible future. Not all that far away.

Depression Era (Ref. Robert Herrick)

Scouting pottery
South, out of Zanesville
Shawnee, Corning
Down Route 13
What I do Saturday,
Sunday afternoons
Sneaking beer from the cooler
Hot stove league on the radio
Marty and it used to be Joe
I don’t collect myself
and don’t know much
But find what I can
and take it home to my Sweetie

No Weller or Roseville for me
It’s mud or china SPI
Chips oh so easy,
takes up too much room
Like me
And, like me, it mostly just sits there
Sometimes, putting a new piece up
I get shaky - knock another off the shelf
She doesn't mind
She knows I’m… past my prime
She says it's all a'hunting and a‘gathering
Just instinct --
And I'm thinking extinct
Why pottery? Pottery, for God’s sake.
I like beer and football

Any humor at all
that Herrick was born in Cheapside,
and like me, a fan of his betters?
My side is the junk stores
No fancy pants "Antique Mall"
My wallet needs a place where they may not know what they have
Some place where Old Time’s dying - not flying
Slinking 'round dusty bookcases
Sniffing out small pieces of the past
Nothing to make much of
But you can smile at it

Ah, there’s the old stuff
No virgins here, for sure
I see a possibility
A nicely painted salad plate,
pick it up and turn it over
and I’ve been fooled again
Made in not even Occupied Japan
I move on to the bud vase in the corner

© D. Dain, 2007.