home videos playlist lyrics biopress stuff

Gypsy Hymn #117

Pale and stormy autumn steals

on the afternoon before my way.

Blackbirds cross the empty fields,

flying low way down the long highway.

Smoke rises on a low sky.

The windows watch as I walk by.

Eyes grown tired of living

find themselves just wishing they could fly.

Withered stalks in rows of brown,

old soldiers who lost the fight to time,

stand and wait to be cut down,

obeying their orders with resign.

Naked trees stretch out their arms

to keep a favorite son from harm

but I'll leave their cold embrace

to find another some place that is warm.

I can't give you promises --

at least not any I could really keep.

The boy's got to be honest

as to that moving feeling in his feet.

If you'd know me at all

then you'd count the leaves that fall

'cause I get restless sitting

hearing that clock tock-ticking on the wall.

The wind blows out the moon and stars

of a night grown old before its time.

Thoughts of one girl on my heart --

I once sang her my rough lullaby --

they leave me wondering when

I'll see where the pavement ends.

Will I find the finish

to be the beginning once again?

Rough cut video posted to YouTube 10/22/09. Click here to watch the video.

an acoustic guitar

Subscribe to Dave's monthly newsletter

* indicates required

crossed guitars