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DEATH AND TAXES
There's only two things that are certain in life - We hear this from the moments of our birth. Death is the big one, taxes come second, Though the order is usually reversed. But to these I would make an addition, Because in your case it's certainly true. There's three things in life you can count on: Death and taxes and me loving you. CHORUS: Death and taxes and me loving you: Three things in this world that will always be true. For better or worse we'll be There to see you through: Death and taxes and me loving you. Everything else is so uncertain. Life is a very temporary compromise; And this world ain't no playground for sissies, 'Cause nobody gets out alive. But if you need a shoulder to cry on, Or an ear to tell your troubles to, I'll be there to provide you a comfort You sure won't get from those other two. CHORUS Don't judge me by the company I'm keeping. I refuse to be a party to their views. The only thing we'll ever have in common Is an uncommon interest in you; So when you need a shoulder to cry on Or an ear to tell your troubles to, I'll be there to provide you a comfort You sure won't get from those other two. CHORUS SALVATION ANNIE CHORUS Salvation Annie, she's got the Devil on the run, Beating out the battle cry on her trusty drum; An angel of the alleys that landed on skid row To fight for these lost causes That have nowhere else to go. Standing in the corner with Tom the trumpet man, Playing for the passers-by to fill the money can. By nickels and by dimes the Lord He will provide; He can open any purse, but not always very wide. CHORUS And down at the mission the sinners see the light; The smell from Annie's kitchen convert them every night. Never tell a hungry man he cannot live by bread alone; That's the one thing he won't swallow Even when he's skin and bone. She prays for the strength To carry out her Master's plan. She prays for ten more hours in a day, And for three more fingers on each hand. Faith might move a mountain, But even she agrees: Prayers get answered faster When she rolls up her sleeves. On this end of the town the miracles are few. She'd like to wait around for one, But there's too much work to do. Empty souls and soup bowls that someone's got to fill, And Jesus gets the credit, but Annie foots the bill. CHORUS HOMEGROUND I went back home to see my family. I'd been gone far too long. My mother looks a little older now; My sister's kids are nearly grown. My brother lives the next town over. By all accounts he's doing fine. My father's buried up in Kansas. He died Thanksgiving 1989. CHORUS There is a lifeline that runs out across the land, Straight from the heart of this quiet little town, Like the stem of something that is blooming in my hand, Rooted in the soil of this home ground. We all sat down to Sunday dinner And I caught up on the latest news: Who had died and who got married, Who was pregnant, who had moved. Then later on I took the car out for a drive And rode around an hour or two, Past all the old familiar places That were once the only world I knew. (CHORUS) I ended up down at the river Watching the moon come through the trees. I had a six-pack and a pistol, and I made a toast To Auld Lang Syne with both of these. Then I lay down and closed my eyes And listened to the river run. A night wind whispered through the willows And said, "Welcome back, our native son." And old mister man in the moon, He says to me, "You' ve come so far, And there will always be a little mystery In how you got from here to where you are." (Chorus) RULE NUMBER ONE I used to be about as straight as they lace, Not an inch off the mark, not a hair out of place, Shoulder to the wheel, one eye on the ball, The other eye glued to the clock on the wall, But sometimes in the back of my mind A little voice said: Son... CHORUS You're gonna be in your grave one of these days And it'll be a little late to change your ways; Now is the time to get your living done. Everybody said I was doing just fine, Pulling my weight, toeing the line, but at night I'd lay in bed losing sleep And it didn't do much good counting sheep, Seeing those sheep made me think about What I had become. (CHORUS) One day there's gonna be A knock at your door, And it'll be Mr. Death Come to settle up the score. He'll say: Stop what you're doing, Don't bother to pack. The hearse outside Don't have a luggage rack. It took a little while to readjust my sights but one day I finally started to see the light. I got off the treadmill, let down my hair, Opened the window to get some fresh air, Looked at my face in the mirror And said: Rule number one: Now is the time To get your living done. CAN YOU SEE THE MOON Can you see the moon from your window As clear as I see it from mine? Above the blue shadows between us It hangs like a shiny new dime. I wish we could spend it together On some mid-summer night souvenir To give us something to remember Long after this night disappears. BRIDGE: The sun has gone over the hill. The stars are beginning to show. They'll stay out all night long Dancing 'til dawn with the lights Of the city below. Can you see the moon from your window Through the lace of the sycamore trees? Does it give you a faraway feeling? Does it bring back a sweet memory? (BRIDGE) Can you see the moon from your window? Are you lost in that circle of light? Do you lean on the sill the way I do And think of one who thinks of you tonight? TABLE FOR ONE At a table for one in a little cafe I am having my dinner tonight. Candles burn brightly and soft music plays And the wine is a vintage I like. I come here sometimes after the show To get lost in this bustle and hum, Content to be just a face in the crowd, Here at this table for one. I watch the young lovers make eyes at each other In their own little corners of time. I gaze out the window and smile to myself At these little secrets of mine. I think of old friends, and places I've been And causes to which I have clung, And I'm lucky to be in such good company Here at this table for one. I feel at home at this table for one Where nobody needs a disguise; And yes, I know how it must look to some, But that's just the shadows telling them lies. At a table for one you just might be surprised At how lively a party can be. There's always a couple of games to be played Concerning the future and me. There's always a couple of laughs to be had When I think of some things I have done. There's always a time for the moments to shine Here at this table for one. DECOMPOSING THE BLUES I didn't wake up this morning; I just lay there in the bed. When I finally came to my senses I realized I was dead. No more problems. No more worries about paying my dues. I'm just gonna lay here 'til somebody finds me, Decomposing the blues. My doctor warned me this might happen. He said I was pressing my luck. I guess I should've been listening But I was too busy living it up. The party's over, But I think I can see the point He was trying to prove. There's a very thin line Between a really good time And decomposing the blues. Now I'm staring up at the ceiling With a look of sober surprise, And I'm having a lot of mixed feelings Concerning my recent demise. Part of me feels kinda foolish; Part of me just doesn't care; And part of me's glad I'm unable to smell The aroma that hangs in the air. I can see where my present condition Might put a little cramp in my style. I'm just gonna have to adjust And hope I get used to it after a while. It won't be so bad. The irony of it all is gonna keep me amused. 'Cause, see, now that I'm dead I'll probably get famous for Decomposing the blues. FUNNY WHAT A LITTLE TIME CAN DO It helps to melt the ice, It urges pots to boil, Persuades the eggs to hatch, And causes fruit to spoil; It gives the clock upon the wall Some business to pursue - It's funny what a little time can do. It gets me through my day, It moves the fickle hand of fate; It's too long when I'm bored, And too short when things are great. It even does a trick I never Thought that it could do: It changes the way I look at you. It's funny how a little time Affects a situation, Throws a little light on thing, And sharpens observation. Things look so much different When your eyes are open wide To accommodate the picture Some distance can provide. It fades the photographs, It puts wrinkles in a face; It changes the neighborhood 'Til you hardly recognize the place; And sometimes it makes strangers Out of people we once knew - It's funny what a little time can do. HARD LUCK MINE INTRO: Used to see him out on Highway 93 hitching rides. Just an old man in an old coat; And when he heard you coming He'd turn and hold out his hat By way of asking you for a lift. He had a claim up on Deep Crick; And the gold was there all right; He just never managed to put a hole Around very much of it. People say all that searching Without the finding Made him a little crazy; But if he was crazy, then So is anyone else who ever had a dream They refused to give up on... He left his home in Buffalo when he was seventeen, And chased the prairie sun into the Rocky Mountain skies; But the colors that he saw in that Montana canyon dust Turned the sun to just a pale reflection in his eyes. So he fell to the task of nailing down a rainbow, And season fell to season like leaves carried down the wind, And the fever fanned the fires of his passion and desires But pocket change and promises were all it held for him. CHORUS It was a hard-luck mine on the Lincoln County line. It stole a young man's heart; it haunts an old man's mind; But it cannot touch the light of the dream that burns so bright, The dream that calls his name in a never-ending game Of Here-I-Am-Find-Me-If-You-Can. He searches through the shadows in the heart of Bighorn Mountain, And they say you can hear him singing in the night up there sometimes. In town the mothers warn their children: Don't you dare go near him; And no one looks him in the eye too long for fear of what they'll find. The rat feet write their passing on the dusty tunnel floors. The scaffolds and the sluice box stand rotting in the sun; And deep inside the mountain the rusty tools lay Waiting in the darkness for someone who never comes. (CHORUS) Now there's an old man by the roadside and he's flagging rides to nowhere. He says he'll be a rich man the day he works his mine again. He says his pot of gold just sits there for the taking, And he's just one last powder charge away from the rainbow's end. HERE'S TO CAFES I HAVE KNOWN CHORUS: Here's to cafes I have known; They're almost like my second home. The welcome mat is always out, The soup is always on. Here's to midnight ham and eggs, And juke box tunes and waitress legs, And a cup o' joe to keep me going When the road gets long. I can't count how many times I've found myself alone, Driving down the highway somewhere far from home. It's the life I've chosen and I mostly like it fine, But sometimes I get lonesome for the things I left behind. That's when I know it's time for me to seek familiar ground, So I let up on the gas and I gear my engine down, And start looking for the lights of a certain little place Where I know I'll always find a friendly face. CHORUS One look through the window tells me all I need to know 'Cause some things never change no matter where you go: The coffee pots, the local cops, the burgers on the grill, And the gal that calls me "Honey" takin' money at the till. I grab a corner table and let myself unwind, Soak up some local color and forget about the time, Read the hometown paper, have one more piece of pie, Then go out and give the road another try. CHORUS BAREFOOT WALTZ It was a cold Sunday morning that cried at the window. There was a frown on the face of the clock on the wall. The calendar showed only three days 'til Spring, But out in the street snow was starting to fall. I sat at the window with my shoes in my hands And you stood at the window looking up at the sky. It felt like nothing could save us this time: We were lost and we did not know why. Then you turned the radio on, and I heard us both start singing along. The next thing I knew I was dancing with you And the whold world was singing our song. CHORUS: We did the Barefoot Waltz on the Sunday funnies And the laughs that we had made the rafters ring; The Barefoot Waltz on the Sunday funnies On the day before the day before the first day of spring. The comic strip pages that lay under our feet Made a carpet of colors, like flowers in bloom, And while the snow piled up on the rooftops outside We floated away to a warm afternoon. You were the girl in the green summer dress And I was the guy who was holding her tight We danced our way down to the river and back Turning through circles of shadow and light. I can still feel you here in my arms; I'm still falling into your eyes. I still hear the bells of our laughter that day Echoing down through our lives. (Chorus) HOLE IN THE WORLD (For Ben Francy) I was talking to a friend of yours; We were on the phone a little while ago. I asked her how you were doing these days And she said, "Didn't you know?" She said it happened one day last winter. You were driving in to catch a plane. There was ice on the road and a gasoline truck, But at least you never felt any pain. I just sat there for a minute Not wanting to believe my ears; And I thought about all the times I meant to call But didn't these last few years. Your friend kept right on talking But her words sorta faded out And left me alone, holding the phone, Wondering what it's all about. CHORUS The mountain has not moved And the river still runs. The rain still falls And the dawn still comes. It's the same old world Outside my door But there's a hole in it now That wasn't there before. If you turn the clock back far enough It's the summer of seventy-nine. I was the lookout man up on Johnson Rock And you'd bring up the mail sometimes. I'd open us a bottle of red And we'd hang out on the catwalk stairs, Talking a bout books and people we knew And what we'd do if we were millionaires. The story never gets too complicated: Just a couple of guys who were friends, A few summers up on the hill Then one year it finally came to an end. I went back to Seattle And you stayed on in that Oregon town, But I don't think either one of us ever thought about Burning any bridges down. (Chorus) So when the road took me under its wing I always thought that I'd see you again. I even came back through the valley one fall But you'd already moved by then; So I got your address and number And I filed them away in my book. Hell, there'd always be plenty of time. Nothing's lost if you know where to look. Some lives are longer than others But we all have to give up the ghost. I like to think there's just enough time To do what matters the most. I guess that means you were ready, But that's not much comfort right now In this room that's a little too empty And this silence that's a little too loud. (Chorus) FARMER A planter's moon had come again And love knew what to do. It found a fertile ground And from its seed a farmer grew. He came up tall and straight Like a blade of prairie wheat, And he found his promised land In the earth beneath his feet. His sweat kept him honest. His faith kept him strong. His heart kept him going, And his laughter kept him young. He kept his tools in order. He carried his own weight; And he made his life a lesson In how to keep the furrow straight. CHORUS He said: Work when there's work to do; Play when it's time to play. Dance when the music moves you And sow a little love along the way. At the urging of his hands The crops rose from the dust. He trusted in the land And the land returned his trust. And he rode the wheel of seasons 'Til the circle took him in; And on the stone that bears his name The words still speak for him: CHORUS SOMEWHERE TO BEGIN People say to me: You must be crazy, How can you sing (dream, love) in times like these? Don't you read the news? Don't you know the score? How can you sing (dream, love) when so many people grieve? And people say to me: What kind of fool believes That songs (dreams, love) will make a difference in the end? By way of a reply I say: A fool such as I, Who sees a song (dreams, love) as somewhere to begin. CHORUS A dream is somewhere to begin To search for something worth believing in. If changes are to come There are things that must be done. And a dream is somewhere to begin. Love is somewhere to begin To search for something worth believing in. If changes are to come There are things that must be done. And love is somewhere, And dreams are somewhere, and a song is somewhere to begin. |