1. |
roadside park
04:38
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Roadside Park
When I stopped by your roadside park,
the sun was low, it was almost dark
the lullaby of a meadowlark
crossed the woods and weeds like a soft remark
A rusty can held a bracken leaf
and a paper wrap held a crumb of beef
and a newsprint ad, “Drive with Superchief”
impaled on grass and in bold relief
I sat and stared at your tabletop
Where “I love Irene” soaked up soda pop
And a cryptic note that read simply “stop”
brought an end to words
beneath a round raindrop
A million miles on this asphalt line
all ending here by this picnic sign
and a human touch on such great design
in the refuse you have left behind
And I know you’ll find it hard
when you close your eyes at night
to imagine that I knew you here
in the dusky fading light
but we’re more alike than different
and I know you by the sight
of all that you’ve discarded
in the hurry of your flight
A pen was crushed beneath your brand new tire
and it bled like art, which I much admire,
and the ashes of your charcoal fire
fed your hungry life as much as my desire
On the restroom door, I read a thousand hands
all moving in silence to nature’s first demands,
and a fly that buzzed in the bathroom’s fans
calls your scent to me from each place he lands
And I know you’ll find it hard
when you close your eyes at night
to imagine that I knew you here
in the dusky fading light
but we’re more alike than different
and I know you by the sight
of all that you’ve discarded
in the hurry of your flight
A broken mirror in the parking lot
helped me see the fear
that made you leave this spot
you must travel on and be one who’s got
a place to go instead of this place that’s not
But I’m going to wait right here in your roadside park
and let the sun pull in all this rising dark
I want to sleep and wake to your meadowlark
across the woods and weeds like a soft remark
from inside your heart
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2. |
his way
05:30
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|
his way
Riding that rail right outside of Ishpeming,
he hears the track clicking in time
as the whistle sings
and a hundred bright meadows pass by him
with the fragrance of Spring
and make him wonder if he’s moving at all
or just waiting for whatever the world brings
Traveling far, captivated by the open road,
it’s a lonely feeling
when you’ve got a lot of dreams you left at home
but if he just keep holding on
to what he wishes he could be
he can forget that living free
is not a flat car or a freeway sign
if he just keeps searching he will never have to find
his way
Standing on a corner, right outside of Big Cloud
listening to the rumbling of the cars
yeah, they’re moving steady and loud
across the surface of the asphalt
conversations abound
and they’re mixed with the sound
of that late day traffic crowd
And he hears but he does not understand a word
oh, he sees but only black and white
and the rest is obscured
and these dreams and spirits keep plaguing him
with these wishes that are too absurd
he wants to stay as free as a bird
and pretend that these feelings never occurred
he’s not concerned, he’s never discerned
his way
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3. |
other side of the night
04:25
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|
other side of the night
I could never be honest with you
or show you the real me
rather than the one who you knew
we read each other’s hearts
like tea leaves in a cup
when we got too far beyond prediction
we just gave up
acting like everything was going to be alright
as long as every other thing was kept out of sight
sometimes it’s easier to shut out the light
but now I’m on the other side of the night
I still remember the look in your eyes
a look that said “I love you
but I know that that’s not wise”
and even now this contradiction
is like a bridge between we two
and it sways with each passing breeze
blowing through
sometimes I don’t know why we put black over white
I’d follow the sun but you shut it up tight
you’d rather stay blind but I want it bright
because I am on the other side of the night
We try to stay numb with all of our might
We say pretty words
instead of words that aren’t quite
Words made of clay, words that won’t bite
Words I can’t hear on the other side of the night
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4. |
wounded man
04:55
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wounded man
I thought I saw you wounded man
crawling around my heart
begging me for mercy and tearing me apart
but I had my own way to go
and you can just bleed in the snow
because you’re pulling me down
and I know who I am
I saw a man-child reach for his father’s hand
and little fingers spilled their love
like water into sand
those feelings became ships
that could not find land
weighted down with loneliness
that someone christened “Man”
Adrift, they turn to pirate and plunder
each ship, the other ship’s brother
they ram and they pillage
and murder each other
with generations of hand to hand
Wounded man
The combat we have shared
left me here and you over there
the armor that we wear
keeps us safe from our despair
but if we cannot talk to each other
our hearts are just torn out at that altar
where it’s easier to crawl than to stand
Wounded man
I can see your open wound
underneath Diana’s moon
you’re longing for woman to cure
a hurt that’s not put there by her
a wound borne of loss taking aim
adds to your sorrow and shame
blind to the hurt that you do
you must see that I’m wounded too
Wounded man
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5. |
birdman of rosa park
04:57
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the birdman of rosa park
Battles, bitterness, burning bridges down
sirens, silence, sighs without sound
money, honey, running about
to get what’s worth getting
without going without
My friend, your friend,
my time alone
Knowing your secrets
without mine being known
Betrayal, dismay
or this may go alright
Collision, division
or cries in the night
Mercy and evil and basically good
Hearts made of stone, heads made of wood
But the birdman of Rosa Park
is feeding his pigeons until after dark
they sit on his hands
they eat from his lips
and out pours affection
from the bag that he grips
Love in abundance
there’s a cause we could mourn
it flows like a river
between the seed and cracked corn
in this place where we bury
what we wish could be born
There’s down on your knees and down on your luck
down on your brother or sister
or just down in the muck
there’s trying too hard
or not trying at all
or trying to make contract before we all fall
There’s fifty years left, fifty days, fifty seconds
there’s a light in the dark,
in the mist, and it beckons
there’s living each day as a soldier to Grace
there’s chasing down trouble
and staring right in its face
Making your life just a seed in that hand
and feeding the dreams of the doves as they land
While the birdman of Rosa Park
is feeding his pigeons until after dark…
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6. |
what is a home?
03:20
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what is a home?
Jesse LeRoy is sitting down thinking,
lost on the 23rd floor
The sign on the door
that reads “janitor”
was his father’s and his father’s before
For 65 years, a LeRoy cleaned the urinals
Now tears stain the floors of this office subservial
the paint is all peeling and the cockroach proverbial
is laughing as he claims all the walls
And what is a home
and is yours forgotten
Did you go on the roam
while the old flame went rotten?
Sometimes these dreams
are just like an old building
where the tenants are gone
and the draperies are filthy
oh love, let us unlock these doors,
we must wash all the floors
Jane Doe isn’t anyone
checking in at the shelter
while helter skelter plays in her brain
she’s the other side of life
on the edge of a knife
that cuts between the crowds
that pass her by
she’ll sleep in the doorway
like an old rag tonight
that’s fluttered to the pavement
and out of our sight
muttering curses
at first morning’s light
like a deckhand gone asleep on the watch
And what is a home
and is yours forgotten?
Did you go on the roam
while the old frame when rotten?
Sometimes these dreams
are just like an old building
where the tenants are gone
and the draperies are filthy
oh love, let us unlock these doors
we must wash all the floors
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7. |
spinnin' out
04:02
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spinnin’ out
A hurting time, spinning out, like
an antelope on a frozen lake,
falling, falling, falling
and hoping that the ice won’t break
Our day undone in ice and sun
and a winter from the gates of hell
when it’s melting
finally Spring
I’m sinking into this shell
I want to drown in your embrace
but the sound of our anger
hits me right in the face
oh, listen to that cold wind blow
who’d go out on a night like this
everything covered with snow
and a goodbye that’s been sealed with a kiss
and even though I love you very much
somehow we’ve forgotten how to touch
and, oh no, I feel like we’re spinning out
A cutting sound, cutting down, like
a logger way up in the hills
and this old tree has fallen down
to the sorrow of the whipperwills
oh can’t you see, inside that tree
ring upon ring, you and me
all we could be and every song I sing?
And the tenderness flows like a river of light
down the side of the mountain
and into the night
You can feel that motion inside of your soul
I’m off of the ice now
and back in control
but even though I love you very much
somehow we’ve forgotten how to touch
and, oh no, I feel like we’re spinnin’ out
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8. |
||||
9. |
goodbye
04:29
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|
Goodbye
You went down to the supermarket
To get yourself a paper
Reading about some politician’s blues
In some undercover caper
I could see you were amused
To read of his conviction
Such stories were of more use to you
While I was only fiction
So I went to turn the TV on
Only to find that Cronkite’s gone
And I heard you yawn in the bathroom mirror
And thought I saw a look of fear
But you’ve been away so long
I’m not even sure you’re really here
You were standing at the corner bar
With an old friend and a cheap cigar
You were laughing at some corny joke
Although I couldn’t make out
All the words you spoke
And ‘though I hungered for you
And I thirsted to find you
Like a deaf man talking with the blind
I was just looking for a sign
You cared for me
Before I set you free
So I followed you
I tugged on your coat
I read every single word you wrote
Until something got caught inside my throat
And I watched you disappear
Now you’ve been away so long
I’m not even sure you’re really here
There’s nothing easy about our need
To say goodbye
I hope you’ll stop and think
Before you make those who love you cry
You know, it’s easier to hurt those
Who can only hide
From your cruelty and ignorance and pride
And ‘though you turn your back on me
Because I would not feed your ego
You were naked as a newborn babe
Although you felt so high and regal
And I couldn’t save you from yourself
When you threw that gauntlet down
I’m not willing to cross swords with you
Even for your rusty crown
There’s just mercy here for times gone by
Hope we don’t make our children cry
A hug beneath this winter sky
And a life of truth borne of a lie
You know, I’ve been away so long
I’m not sure I have the strength
To say goodbye
Goodbye
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10. |
here & now
04:53
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here and now
You can spend a lifetime trying
to run that dollar down
You can find the right time to notice
the beauty all around
capture the mystery behind
the grace of loving eyes
or sacrifice the moment to
the future’s distant prize
I’m living in the here and now
my dreams are so immediate
they’re all that I’ll allow
I see and I experience the tao
I’m living in the here and now
Everybody’s chasing a rainbow
like it’s never going to end
moving from lover to lover
and passing from friend to friend
nothing is forever anymore
not a promise or a kiss
yesterday is dead and gone
and tomorrow you might miss
I’m living in the here and now
my dreams are so immediate
they’re all that I’ll allow
I see and I experience the tao
I’m living in the here and now
Time is a part of my history
that I learned when I was young
now is the place I live in
when all is said and done
Tao is the way that takes you
between the lyric line
soon you are still and unfolding
as the tangles all unwind
You’re living in the here and now
your dreams are so immediate
they’re all that you’ll allow
you see and you experience the tao
you’re living in the here and now
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11. |
||||
|
his way
Riding that rail right outside of Ishpeming,
he hears the track clicking in time
as the whistle sings
and a hundred bright meadows pass by him
with the fragrance of Spring
and make him wonder if he’s moving at all
or just waiting for whatever the world brings
Traveling far, captivated by the open road,
it’s a lonely feeling
when you’ve got a lot of dreams you left at home
but if he just keep holding on
to what he wishes he could be
he can forget that living free
is not a flat car or a freeway sign
if he just keeps searching he will never have to find
his way
Standing on a corner, right outside of Big Cloud
listening to the rumbling of the cars
yeah, they’re moving steady and loud
across the surface of the asphalt
conversations abound
and they’re mixed with the sound
of that late day traffic crowd
And he hears but he does not understand a word
oh, he sees but only black and white
and the rest is obscured
and these dreams and spirits keep plaguing him
with these wishes that are too absurd
he wants to stay as free as a bird
and pretend that these feelings never occurred
he’s not concerned, he’s never discerned
his way
|
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12. |
||||
13. |
||||
|
polish the stone
There is a jackpine standing in the
tundra wind,
Bent and gnarled with all its branches
turned in,
Stripped raw on one side by the storms
it’s withstood;
Made more of hard knots than of
useful wood –
Polishing the Stone.
It can grow no higher at this
altitude.
Just above it, the land lies barren
and nude.
Still it seems to struggle on ahead
As if to challenge the very things
That make it look ugly and dead –
Polishing the stone.
Polish the Stone!
Don’t be a fool – only God knows
if the stone is a jewel.
Marked with your sweat, your flesh,
blood, and bone;
Your spirit still shimmers when you
Polish the Stone.
Polish the Stone,
Then leave your mark
For others to find their way
In the dark.
When you cannot, when you’re alone,
Find hope again when you
Polish the Stone.
Dead in the night, you can hear the
silent scream
Of an innocent life deprived of the
right to dream
But still reaching out, despite all
probability
Through the forest of despair,
Still having the will to be
Polishing the Stone.
You, like that tree, may not
feel fully grown.
You may stand in a fierce wind,
feeling cold and alone
At the summit of Hope above
A valley of complacency.
It may be so hard
Being what you’re meant to be:
Polishing the Stone
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14. |
||||
|
Roadside Park
When I stopped by your roadside park,
the sun was low, it was almost dark
the lullaby of a meadowlark
crossed the woods and weeds like a soft remark
A rusty can held a bracken leaf
and a paper wrap held a crumb of beef
and a newsprint ad, “Drive with Superchief”
impaled on grass and in bold relief
I sat and stared at your tabletop
Where “I love Irene” soaked up soda pop
And a cryptic note that read simply “stop”
brought an end to words
beneath a round raindrop
A million miles on this asphalt line
all ending here by this picnic sign
and a human touch on such great design
in the refuse you have left behind
And I know you’ll find it hard
when you close your eyes at night
to imagine that I knew you here
in the dusky fading light
but we’re more alike than different
and I know you by the sight
of all that you’ve discarded
in the hurry of your flight
A pen was crushed beneath your brand new tire
and it bled like art, which I much admire,
and the ashes of your charcoal fire
fed your hungry life as much as my desire
On the restroom door, I read a thousand hands
all moving in silence to nature’s first demands,
and a fly that buzzed in the bathroom’s fans
calls your scent to me from each place he lands
And I know you’ll find it hard
when you close your eyes at night
to imagine that I knew you here
in the dusky fading light
but we’re more alike than different
and I know you by the sight
of all that you’ve discarded
in the hurry of your flight
A broken mirror in the parking lot
helped me see the fear
that made you leave this spot
you must travel on and be one who’s got
a place to go instead of this place that’s not
But I’m going to wait right here in your roadside park
and let the sun pull in all this rising dark
I want to sleep and wake to your meadowlark
across the woods and weeds like a soft remark
from inside your heart
|
||||
david edward walker Indianola, Washington
"With a style that encompasses urban and rural images, rich metaphors, spiritual themes, moving ballads, and ambitious
fingerstyle guitar work, David Edward Walker (aka 'David Folks') is a singer-songwriter with special ability to reach listeners on an emotional level."
~ Music Hound,
The Essential Folk Album Guide
"Spilled poetic love." ~ Dirty Linen
"Folk Hero."
~Detroit Monthly
... more
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