The only boy living in New York

Tom, get your plane right on time I know your part’ll go fine Fly down to Mexico Da-n-da-da-n-da-n-da-da and here I am, The only living boy in New York I get the news I need on the weather report Oh, I can gather all the news I need on the weather report Hey, I’ve got nothing to do today but smile Da-n-do-da-n-do-da-n-do here I am The only living boy in New York Half of the time we’re gone but we don’t know where And we don’t know where Here I am Half of the time we’re gone, but we don’t know where And we don’t know where Tom, get your plane right on time I know that you’ve been eager to fly now Hey, let your honesty shine, shine, shine Like it shines on me The only living boy in New York The only living boy in New York

Baby driver

My daddy was the family bassman My mamma was an engineer And I was born one dark gray morn With music coming in my ears In my ears They call me Baby Driver And once upon a pair of wheels Hit the road and I’m gone What’s my number ? I wonder how your engines feel Ba ba ba ba Scoot down the road What’s my number? I wonder how your engines feel Shine the light My daddy was a prominent frogman My mamma’s in the Naval Reserve When I was young, I carried a gun But I never got the chance to serve I did not serve They call me Baby Driver And once upon a pair of wheels Hit the road and I’m gone What’s my number ? I wonder how your engines feel Ba ba ba ba Scoot down the road What’s my number? I wonder how your engines feel My daddy got a big promotion My mama got a raise in pay There’s no-one home, we’re all alone Oh come into my room and play Yes, we can play I’m not talking about your pigtails But I’m talking ‘bout your sex appeal Hit the road and I’m gone What’s my number? I wonder how your engines Ba ba ba ba Scoot down the road What’s my number? I wonder how your engines feel

The boxer

I am just a poor boy Though my story’s seldom told I have squandered my resistance For a pocketful of mumbles Such are promises All lies and jest Still, a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of a railway station Running scared Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go Looking for the places only they would know Lie-la-lie . . . Asking only workman’s wages I come looking for a job But I get no offers Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there Lie-la-lie . . . Now the years are rolling by me The are rocking easily I am older than I once was And younger than I’ll be But that’s not unusual No, it isn’t strange After changes upon changes We are more or less the same After changes we are More or less the same Then I’m laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone Going home Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me Leading me Going home In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the remainders Of every glove that laid him down And cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame “I am leaving, I am leaving” But the fighter still remains Lie-la-lie . . .

 

Keep the customer satisfied

Gee, but it’s great to be back home Home is where I want to be I’ve been on the road so long, my friend And if you came along I know you couldn’t disagree It’s the same old story,yeah Everywhere I go I get slandered, libeled I hear words I never heard in the Bible And I’m one step ahead of the shoe shine Two steps away from the county line Just trying to keep my customers satisfied Satisfied Deputy Sheriff said to me “Tell me what you come here for, boy You better get your bags and flee You’re in trouble, boy And now you’re heading into more” It’s the same old story Everywhere I go I get slandered, libeled I hear words I never heard in the Bible And I’m one step ahead of the shoeshine Two steps away from the county line Just trying to keep my customers satisfied Satisfied And it’s the same old story Everywhere I go I get slandered, libeled I hear words I never heard in the Bible And I’m so tired I’m oh, so tired But I’m trying to keep my customers satisfied Satisfied

 

Cecilia

Celia, you’re breaking my heart You’re shaking my confidence daily Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees I’m begging you please to come home Celia, you’re breaking my heart You’re shaking my confidence daily Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees I’m begging you please to come home Come on home Making love in the afternoon With Cecilia Up in my bedroom I got up to wash my face When I come back to bed Someone’s taken my place Celia, you’re breaking my heart You’re shaking my confidence daily Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees I’m begging you please to Come on home Jubilation, She loves me again I fall on the floor and I laughing Jubilation She loves me again I fall on the floor and I laughing

El condor pasa

I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail Yes, I would If I could I surely would I’d rather be a hammer than a nail Yes, I would If I only could I surely would Away, I’d rather sail away Like a swan that’s here and gone A man gets tied up to the ground He gives the world its saddest sound Its saddest sound I’d rather be a forest than a street Yes, I would If I could I surely would I’d rather feel the earth beneath my feet Yes, I would If I only could I surely would

Wednesday morning, 3 a.m.

I can hear the soft breathing Of the girl that I love As she lies here beside me Asleep with the night And her hair, in a fine mist Floats on my pillow Reflecting the glow Of the winter moonlight She is soft, she is warm But my heart remains heavy And I watch as her breasts Gently rise, gently fall For I know with the first light of dawn I’ll be leaving And tonight will be All I have left to recall Oh, what have I done, Why have I done it? I’ve committed a crime, I have broken the law For twenty-five dollars And pieces of silver I held up and robbed A hard liquor store My life seems unreal, My crime an illusion A scene badly written In which I must play Yet I know as I gaze At my young love beside me The morning is just a few hours away

A church is burning

A church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying, aglow in the sky Like hands that are praying, the fire is saying "You can burn down my churches, but I shall be free" Three hooded men thru the back road did creep Torches in their hands, while the village lies asleep Down to the church, where just hours before Voices were singing and hands were beating And saying "I won’t be a slave any more" And a church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying, aglow in the sky Like hands that are praying the fire is saying "You can burn down my churches, but I shall be free" Three hooded men, their hands lit the spark Then they faded in the night, and they vanished in the dark And in the cold light of morning, there’s nothing that remains But the ashes of a Bible and can of kerosene And a church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying, aglow in the sky Like hands that are praying, the fire is saying "You can burn down my churches, but I shall be free" A church is more than just timber and stone And freedom is a dark road when you’re walking it alone But the future is now, and it’s time to take a stand So the lost bells of freedom can ring out in my land And a church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying, aglow in the sky Like hands that are praying the fire is saying "You can burn down our churches, but I shall be free"

For Emily, whenever I may find her

What a dream I had Pressed in organdy Clothed in crinoline of smoky burgundy Softer than the rain I wandered empty streets Down past the shop displays I heard cathedral bells Tripping down the alley ways As I walked on And when you ran to me Your cheeks flushed with the night We walked on frosted fields Of juniper and lamplight I held your hand And when I awoke and felt you warm and near I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears Oh, I love you, girl Oh, I love you

The sound of silence

Hello darkness, my old friend I’ve come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence In restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone ‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence And in the naked light I saw Ten thousand people, maybe more People talking without speaking People hearing without listening People writing songs that voices never share No one dare Disturb the sound of silence “Fools” said I, “You do not know Silence like a cancer grow Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you” But my words like silent raindrops fell And echoed in the wells of silence And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said "The words of the prophets Are written on subway walls And tenement halls And whispered in the sounds of silence"

I am a rock

A winter’s day In a deep and dark December I am alone Gazing from my window To the streets below On a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow I am a rock I am an island I’ve built walls A fortress, steep and mighty That none may penetrate I have no need of friendship Friendship causes pain. It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain. I am a rock I am an island Don’t talk of love Well, I’ve heard the words before It’s sleeping in my memory And I won’t disturb the slumber Of feelings that have died If I never loved, I never would have cried I am a rock I am an island I have my books And my poetry to protect me I am shielded in my armor Hiding in my room Safe within my womb I touch no one and no one touches me I am a rock I am an island And a rock feels no pain And an island never cries

Blessed

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on O Lord, Why have you forsaken me? I got no place to go I’ve walked around SoHo for the last night or so Ah, but it doesn’t matter, no Blessed is the land and the kingdom Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to Blessed are the meth drinkers ,pot sellers, illusion dwellers O Lord, Why have you forsaken me? My words trickle down like a wound That I have no intention to heal Blessed are the stained glass, windowpane glass Blessed is the church service, makes, me nervous Blessed are the penny rookers, cheap hookers, groovy lookers O Lord, Why have you forsaken me? I have tended my own garden much too long

A hazy shade of winter

Time, time, time See what’s become of me While I looked around for my possibilities I was so hard to please But look around Leaves are brown And the sky is a hazy shade of winter Hear the Salvation Army band Down by the riverside’s Bound to be a better ride Than what you’ve got planned Carry your cup in your hand And look around you Leaves are brown, now And the sky is a hazy shade of winter Hang on to your hopes, my friend That’s an easy thing to say But if your hopes should pass away Simply pretend That you can build them again Look around The grass is high The fields are ripe It’s the springtime of my life Seasons change with the scenery Weaving time in a tapestry Won’t you stop and remember me At any convenient time? Funny how my memory skips Looking over manuscripts Of unpublished rhyme Drinking my vodka and lime I look around Leaves are brown And the sky is a hazy shade of winter Look around Leaves are brown There’s a patch of snow on the ground Look around Leaves are brown There’s a patch of snow on the ground

Richard Cory

They say that Richard Cory Owns one-half of this whole town With political connections to spread his wealth around Born into society, a banker’s only child He had everything a man could want Power, grace and style But I work in his factory And I curse the life I’m living And I curse my poverty And I wish that I could be Oh, I wish that I could be Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show And the rumor of his party and the orgies on his yacht! Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he’s got But I work in his factory And I curse the life I’m living And I curse my poverty And I wish that I could be Oh, I wish that I could be Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch And they were grateful for his patronage and they thanked him very much So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read "Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head" But I work in his factory And I curse the life I’m living And I curse my poverty And I wish that I could be Oh, I wish that I could be Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory

The dangling conversation

It’s a still-life watercolor Of a now late afternoon As the sun shines through the curtain lace And shadows wash the room And we sit and drink our coffee Couched in our indifference Like shells upon the shore You can hear the ocean roar In the dangling conversation And the superficial sighs The borders of our lives And you read your Emily Dickinson And I my Robert Frost And we note our places with bookmarkers That measure what we’ve lost Like a poem poorly written We are verses out of rhythm Couplets out of rhyme In syncopated time And the dangling conversation And the superficial sighs Are the borders of our lives Yes,we speak of thing that matter With words that must be said “Can analysis be worthwhile?” “Is the theatre really dead?” And how the room is softly faded And I only kiss your shadow I cannot feel your hand You’re a stranger now unto me Lost in the dangling conversation And the superficial sighs In the borders of our lives

The 59th street bridge song

Slow down, you move too fast You got to make the morning last Just kicking down the cobblestones Looking for fun and feelin’ groovy Ba da da da da da da, feelin’ groovy Hello, lamppost, what’cha knowin’? I’ve come to watch your flowers growin’ Ain’t’cha got no rhymes for me? Doot-in doo-doo, feelin’ groovy Ba da da da da da da, feelin’ groovy I got no deeds to do No promises to keep I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep Let the morning time drop all its petals on me Life, I love you All is groovy

A poem on the underground wall

The last train is nearly due The underground is closing soon And in the dark deserted station Restless in anticipation A man waits in the shadows His restless eyes leap and scratch At all that they can touch or catch And hidden deep within his pocket Safe within his silent socket He holds a colored crayon Now from the tunnel’s stony womb The carriage rides to meet the groom And opens wide and welcome doors But he hesitates, then withdraws Deeper in the shadows And the train is gone suddenly On wheels clicking silently Like a gently tapping litany And he holds his crayon rosary Tighter in his hand Now from his pocket quick he flashes The crayon on the wall he slashes Deep upon the advertising A single-worded poem comprised Of four letters And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding The poem across the tracks rebounding Shadowed by the exit light His legs take their ascending flight To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night

A most peculiar man

He was A Most Peculiar Man That’s what Mrs. Riordon says, and she should know She lived upstairs from him She said he was a most peculiar man He was A Most Peculiar Man He lived all alone Within a house, within a room, within himself He was A Most Peculiar Man He had no friends, he seldom spoke And no one in turn ever spoke to him ‘Cause he wasn’t friendly and he didn’t care And he wasn’t like them Oh no, he was A Most Peculiar Man He died last Saturday He turned on the gas and he went to sleep With the windows closed so he’d never wake up To his silent world and his tiny room And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere Who should be notified soon And all the people said "What a shame that he’s dead, But wasn’t he A Most Peculiar Man?"

You don't know where your interest lies

You don’t know that you love me You don’t know, but I know that you do You may think that you’re above me, yeah What you think isn’t always true Don’t try to debate me You should know that I’m womanly wise Still, you should try to manipulate me You don’t know where your interest lies No, you don’t know where your interest lies You don’t begin to comprehend You’re just a game I like to play You may think that we’re friends, all right But I won’t let friendship get in my way No, I won’t let friendship get in my way Indications indicate Runnin’ the same riff will turn you around Obviously, you’re going to blow it But you don’t know it You don’t know that you love me You don’t know, but I know that you do You may think you’re above me, yeah What you think isn’t always true And you don’t know where your interest lies You don’t know where your interest lies

Homeward bound

I’m sittin in the railway station Got a ticket for my destination On a tour of one-night stands My suitcase and guitar in hand And every stop is neatly planned For a poet and a one-man band Homeward bound I wish I was Homeward bound Home, where my thought’s escaping Home, where my music’s playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me Every day’s an endless stream Of cigarettes and magazines And each town looks the same to me The movies and the factories And every stranger’s face I see Remind me that I long to be Homeward bound I wish I was Homeward bound Home, where my thought’s escaping Home, where my music’s playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me Tonight I’ll sing my songs again I’ll play the game and pretend But all my words come back to me In shades of mediocrity Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me Homeward bound I wish I was Homeward bound Home, where my thought’s escaping Home, where my music’s playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me

Sparrow

Who will love a little Sparrow Who’s traveled far and cries for rest? "Not I," said the Oak Tree "I won’t share my branches with no sparrow’s nest And my blanket of leaves won’t warm her old breast" Who will love a little Sparrow And who will speak a kindly word? "Not I," said the Swan "The entire idea is utterly absurd I’d be laughed at and scorned if the other Swans heard" And who will take pity in his heart, And who will feed a starving Sparrow? "Not I," said the Golden Wheat "I would if I could, but I cannot, I know I need all my grain to prosper and grow" Who will love a little Sparrow? Will no one write her eulogy? "I will, " said the Earth "For all I’ve created returns unto me From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be"

Leaves that are green

I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song I’m twenty-two now, but I won’t be for long Time hurries on And the leaves that are green turn to brown And they whither with the wind And they crumble in your hand Once my heart was filled with love of a girl I held her close, but she faded in the night Like a poem I meant to write And the leaves that are green turn to brown And they wither with the wind And they crumble in your hand I threw a pebble in a brook And watched the ripples run away And they never made a sound And the leaves that are green turn to brown And they wither with the wind And they crumble in your hand Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello Good-bye, Good-bye Good-bye, Good-bye That’s all there is And the leaves that are green turn to brown

He was my brother

He was my brother 

Five years older than I 

He was my brother 

Twenty-three years old 

the day he died 

Freedom rider 

They cursed my brother 

to his face “Go home, 

outsider, 

This town is gonna be 

your buryin’ place 

He was singin’ on his knees 

An angry mob trailed along 

They shot my brother 

dead Because

 he hated what was wrong 

He was my brother 

Tears can’t bring him back to me 

He, was my brother 

And he died so his brothers could be free 

He died so his brothers could be free