1. The virgin.
She went off to the city to find what she was looking for, to identify, to really try, to find herself some hope, with the summer sun for laughing and the winter rain did pour, she was lovelier from learning and from living, loving more.
From her dancing love and young soul and the gypsies in her dream, to the pulse of stark acceptance when the winds began to freeze, with no curfews left to hold her and no walls to shield her pain, finding out that facts were older and that life forms are insane.
The presence of protection seemed to fade, as did her doubt, that she now was no exception, nor was the love who pushed her out, though the streets cried out, go homesick, virtues strength of mind would ring, in the maladies of meaning the sad song she learned to sing.
Now, her teachers and philosophers, and the poet's silver throat, are the vessels which on wisdom's karmic ocean she will float, was this her revolution, just a child in love's crusade, with the question in her innocence through the lies her eyes betrayed.
2. With tomorrow.
It was more like a dream than reality, I must have thought it was a dream while she was here with me, when she was near I didn't think she would leave, when she was gone it was too much to believe. So with tomorrow I will borrow another moment of joy and sorrow, and another dream, and another with tomorrow.
So if there some day won't be time just to look behind, there won't be reasons, no descriptions for my place and mind, there was so much I was told that was not real, so many things that I could not taste but I could feel. So with tomorrow I will borrow another moment of joy and sorrow, and another dream, and another with tomorrow.
3. White light.
Oh, the village of the hill sitting silently at will like some prophecy forgotten by an age, with no guns before its gate the mysterious estate lies waiting for its history's dawning page. With the raging of the sea before its height and the strength of those whom see beyond their sight.
Oh, the smithies anvil rings and the symphony it sings, no voice, nor poet's pen can put to tune, and electric lines of force ring around the humble lives of the souls that hear the master saying soon. With the clouds that gather near disturb the night, striking flashes of a difference, fleeing fright.
No slight of tongue, nor hand can so boldly there withstand, when the spirit of its truth shall speak the time, and no ignorance of life can be held within the sight of the buttresses of ageless binds of time. The communion of the forces take delight with the fear that no tongues may read nor write.
White light. Oh, the village of the hill sitting silently still with the strength of ages past they're still at hand, reckons not to look behind but to look within and find and to hear of those enlightened by the lamb. With the powers of the wind both fierce and light and the waters of the storm went through the night.
From her dancing love and young soul and the gypsies in her dream, to the pulse of stark acceptance when the winds began to freeze, with no curfews left to hold her and no walls to shield her pain, finding out that facts were older and that life forms are insane.
The presence of protection seemed to fade, as did her doubt, that she now was no exception, nor was the love who pushed her out, though the streets cried out, go homesick, virtues strength of mind would ring, in the maladies of meaning the sad song she learned to sing.
Now, her teachers and philosophers, and the poet's silver throat, are the vessels which on wisdom's karmic ocean she will float, was this her revolution, just a child in love's crusade, with the question in her innocence through the lies her eyes betrayed.
2. With tomorrow.
It was more like a dream than reality, I must have thought it was a dream while she was here with me, when she was near I didn't think she would leave, when she was gone it was too much to believe. So with tomorrow I will borrow another moment of joy and sorrow, and another dream, and another with tomorrow.
So if there some day won't be time just to look behind, there won't be reasons, no descriptions for my place and mind, there was so much I was told that was not real, so many things that I could not taste but I could feel. So with tomorrow I will borrow another moment of joy and sorrow, and another dream, and another with tomorrow.
3. White light.
Oh, the village of the hill sitting silently at will like some prophecy forgotten by an age, with no guns before its gate the mysterious estate lies waiting for its history's dawning page. With the raging of the sea before its height and the strength of those whom see beyond their sight.
Oh, the smithies anvil rings and the symphony it sings, no voice, nor poet's pen can put to tune, and electric lines of force ring around the humble lives of the souls that hear the master saying soon. With the clouds that gather near disturb the night, striking flashes of a difference, fleeing fright.
No slight of tongue, nor hand can so boldly there withstand, when the spirit of its truth shall speak the time, and no ignorance of life can be held within the sight of the buttresses of ageless binds of time. The communion of the forces take delight with the fear that no tongues may read nor write.
White light. Oh, the village of the hill sitting silently still with the strength of ages past they're still at hand, reckons not to look behind but to look within and find and to hear of those enlightened by the lamb. With the powers of the wind both fierce and light and the waters of the storm went through the night.
4. Because of you.
You toss your head and turn your eyes when storm clouds brew, you look around to quick relate to a good time you knew, then the dark clouds break away and a rainbow comes on through.
The sun I see only shines for me because of you, before this time we both saw blind in spite of fact, we lost our place and made no haste to make contact, now by what we gain the taste of one and two.
I'm satisfied beneath my pride because of you, and now the worth of living wealth is more in the end, and now the price of simple things is not so much to spend.
So close your eyes and pick a place to fly away, and think of reasons why this warmth is here to stay, then the dark clouds break away and a rainbow comes on through, the sun I see only shines for me because of you, yes, the sun I see only shines for me because of you.
5. One in a hundred.
Don't you come down, don't you feel bad, even though your dreams are of the things you've never had. Close to the earth, near to the sun, reflecting your own life you can see that you can be more than one.
Hear the bells ring, morning has come, over the town the morning star fades in the dawn, voices of time bringing surprise, voices that sing in waking moments to look into life's eye.
Aren't you glad it's another day, look and tell, so you though you would run away but you know that way too well. Rhythms of rhyme, seasons shall say to look at a longer life now, a longer yesterday.
Don't you come down, you know you're the one, looking at tomorrow let your your troubles fade and fly into the sun, into the sun...
6. For a spanish guitar.
The dissonant bells of the sea, who are ringing the rhymes of the deep, as they sing of the ages asleep, not so near or so far, and the old masters wind of the waves, sped forth for the free men and slaves, whispers of secrets it saves and about whom they are. And the workings of sunshine and rain, and the visions they paint that remain, pulsate from my soul through my brain in a spanish guitar.
The beggar whom sits in the street, on his miserable throne of defeat, envisions no wealth there to meet, thinking nowhere is far, and the laughter of children employed by the fantasies not yet destroyed, by the dogmas of those they avoid, knowing not what they are. And the right and the wrong and insane, and the answers they cannot explain, pulsate from my soul through my brain in a spanish guitar.
To play on a spanish guitar with the sun shining down where you are, skipping and singing a bar from the music around, just to laugh through the columns of trees to soar like a seagull in breeze, to stand in the rain if you please or to never be found.
You toss your head and turn your eyes when storm clouds brew, you look around to quick relate to a good time you knew, then the dark clouds break away and a rainbow comes on through.
The sun I see only shines for me because of you, before this time we both saw blind in spite of fact, we lost our place and made no haste to make contact, now by what we gain the taste of one and two.
I'm satisfied beneath my pride because of you, and now the worth of living wealth is more in the end, and now the price of simple things is not so much to spend.
So close your eyes and pick a place to fly away, and think of reasons why this warmth is here to stay, then the dark clouds break away and a rainbow comes on through, the sun I see only shines for me because of you, yes, the sun I see only shines for me because of you.
5. One in a hundred.
Don't you come down, don't you feel bad, even though your dreams are of the things you've never had. Close to the earth, near to the sun, reflecting your own life you can see that you can be more than one.
Hear the bells ring, morning has come, over the town the morning star fades in the dawn, voices of time bringing surprise, voices that sing in waking moments to look into life's eye.
Aren't you glad it's another day, look and tell, so you though you would run away but you know that way too well. Rhythms of rhyme, seasons shall say to look at a longer life now, a longer yesterday.
Don't you come down, you know you're the one, looking at tomorrow let your your troubles fade and fly into the sun, into the sun...
6. For a spanish guitar.
The dissonant bells of the sea, who are ringing the rhymes of the deep, as they sing of the ages asleep, not so near or so far, and the old masters wind of the waves, sped forth for the free men and slaves, whispers of secrets it saves and about whom they are. And the workings of sunshine and rain, and the visions they paint that remain, pulsate from my soul through my brain in a spanish guitar.
The beggar whom sits in the street, on his miserable throne of defeat, envisions no wealth there to meet, thinking nowhere is far, and the laughter of children employed by the fantasies not yet destroyed, by the dogmas of those they avoid, knowing not what they are. And the right and the wrong and insane, and the answers they cannot explain, pulsate from my soul through my brain in a spanish guitar.
To play on a spanish guitar with the sun shining down where you are, skipping and singing a bar from the music around, just to laugh through the columns of trees to soar like a seagull in breeze, to stand in the rain if you please or to never be found.
7. Where my love lies asleep.
Where my love lies asleep there's no chains to her spirit as she enters the doorway of dreams drifting free. Lightning's flash, rivers roar, round the island she's sleeping and the echoes soul that speaks where she's sleeping, where my love lies asleep there's no past nor tomorrow, only treasures to keep, there's no fears there to borrow.
Through the hallways of wonder, down the steps of the deep, and the secrets that drum where my love lies asleep.
8. Tears of rage.
We carried you in our arms on Independence Day and now you'd throw us all aside, and put us on our way. Oh, what dear daughter beneath the sun would treat a father so, to wait upon him hand and then foot, and always tell him no. Tears of rage, tears of grief, why must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so alone and life is brief.
We pointed out the way to go and scratched your name in sand, though you just thought it was nothing more than a place for you to stand. I want you to know that, while we watched, you discover there was no one true, and now myself I remember that thought it was a childish thing to do. Tears of rage, tears of grief, must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so low and life is brief.
It was all very painless when you went out to receive all that false instruction that we never could believe. And now the heart is filled with gold as if it was a purse, but, oh, what kind of love is this that goes from bad to worse? Tears of rage, tears of grief, must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so low and life is brief.
9. 1975.
With all the legends that the century sings and it's vision bring to life, while foreign waters breathe against the shore and the wind plays ore it's rusted fife, I see the ships of a friendly fleet and a song so sweetly sounding, and gentle souls who think not to defeat as across the waves they are bounding.
And then the thoughts of all the days this time, they have been confined without reason, and in the matters of their health and wealth they cannot be defined but as treason, but go where and find the better life as in the name of love you have freed them, and those you need not you have left behind, and those you keep in mind you know to heed them.
Across the bridge, across the river, where we've never been before, within and out of worlds around us and in the light of finding more, we always easy understood that it was no good not to explore, but never really understood that it was no good just to ignore.
Where my love lies asleep there's no chains to her spirit as she enters the doorway of dreams drifting free. Lightning's flash, rivers roar, round the island she's sleeping and the echoes soul that speaks where she's sleeping, where my love lies asleep there's no past nor tomorrow, only treasures to keep, there's no fears there to borrow.
Through the hallways of wonder, down the steps of the deep, and the secrets that drum where my love lies asleep.
8. Tears of rage.
We carried you in our arms on Independence Day and now you'd throw us all aside, and put us on our way. Oh, what dear daughter beneath the sun would treat a father so, to wait upon him hand and then foot, and always tell him no. Tears of rage, tears of grief, why must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so alone and life is brief.
We pointed out the way to go and scratched your name in sand, though you just thought it was nothing more than a place for you to stand. I want you to know that, while we watched, you discover there was no one true, and now myself I remember that thought it was a childish thing to do. Tears of rage, tears of grief, must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so low and life is brief.
It was all very painless when you went out to receive all that false instruction that we never could believe. And now the heart is filled with gold as if it was a purse, but, oh, what kind of love is this that goes from bad to worse? Tears of rage, tears of grief, must I always be the thief? Come to me now, you know we're so low and life is brief.
9. 1975.
With all the legends that the century sings and it's vision bring to life, while foreign waters breathe against the shore and the wind plays ore it's rusted fife, I see the ships of a friendly fleet and a song so sweetly sounding, and gentle souls who think not to defeat as across the waves they are bounding.
And then the thoughts of all the days this time, they have been confined without reason, and in the matters of their health and wealth they cannot be defined but as treason, but go where and find the better life as in the name of love you have freed them, and those you need not you have left behind, and those you keep in mind you know to heed them.
Across the bridge, across the river, where we've never been before, within and out of worlds around us and in the light of finding more, we always easy understood that it was no good not to explore, but never really understood that it was no good just to ignore.
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Año: 1971.
Procedencia de la banda: Tipton (Missouri), Estados Unidos.
· · ·
Año: 1971.
Procedencia de la banda: Tipton (Missouri), Estados Unidos.
· · ·
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