At one time in my earlier years I imagined that I was a singer songwriter, and these are some of the lyrics of those days. Sorry, I don’t have decent quality recordings of these.
Back On the Wagon
Your reflection in an empty bottle,
On a bet that I could drink it dry.
Staring up, out at me from the bottom,
Saying, “Oh, honey, why did you have to lie.”
You put me out in the state of Nevada,
In a state of desolation and pain.
It rarely rains in the state of Nevada,
But in my heart it was flooding again.
I was back on the wagon again.
I had gone back on the wagon again.
But, every time you walk in, I start drinking again.
Now you’re gone and I’m back on the wagon.
I said I’d never go back to drinking with my friends.
You’d never see me on that bar stool again.
I promised you I’d give up tonic and gin,
But, then, oh honey, when you came walking in.
I was back on the wagon again.
I had gone back on the wagon again.
But, every time you walk in, I start drinking again.
Now you’re gone and I’m back on the wagon.
© 2001 Mark Fought
Red Ribbons (Ballad for Jessie)
I was hanging out in Dallas, just in from El Paso.
The sun was rising, but the sky was still dark.
I was half drunk, and weaving, asleep in the saddle,
But the madness inside me was as clear as my gun.
I was wanted for shooting a man back in Kansas.
My picture was in every state west of there.
I figured that the sheriff would know me if he saw me,
But I had some business and I guess I didn’t care.
There was red in my eyes and a fire in my heart.
Before that day was done I would break those two apart.
Jessie, sweet Jessie, you said when I left you,
That you would not forsake me, you said you would wait.
I was riding in west Texas when I heard from a traveler,
That you’d gotten married to my very best friend.
I loaded my six-guns and I rode straight through to Dallas,
‘Cause Jessie, I couldn’t share you with some other man.
She wore red ribbons in her hair that morning.
They were there to meet a train and I was there in spite of warning.
The sheriff was up early, and he knew me when he saw me.
He called out “Hey Jimmy, throw down your six-guns,
You’ve killed one too many and I’m taking you in!”
Then Jessie and her lover walked out of the station.
I drew both my Colts and I shot that man down.
The bullets were flying and one hit the sheriff,
But a wild shot caught Jessie, and she fell to the ground.
There was red on the ground and red in the sky.
Two men lay dead and my Jessie lay dying.
I only had a moment before I’d be found out.
I quickly kissed Jessie, then I hightailed away.
Now I’m living South of the border, I can’t go back to Dallas.
Every Ranger in Texas has a bullet with my name.
She wore red ribbons in her hair that morning.
© 2001 Mark Fought
Backstage With Sally City
She could never understand the pace.
She could never even find the race.
There was always money in the hands of the fastest man.
She tried to duplicate the shapes,
Of the motion it may take,
To comprehend incessant change as the world expands.
She tried to annihilate the masks,
Of the timeless iconoclasts.
But she would always lie about her visions if she were asked.
Sally City was just a young girl,
Flirting with Broadway eyes,
With slim hips and ruby lips,
And skyscraper desires.
Sally City won’t you come down
To Earth for a change,
And take a peek at all the things
That God and man have not arranged.
She could never make and exit
From the stage without a bow.
An audience was just a state of mind.
She would portray dramatic episodes
Of her day of cosmic birth,
Testimonials caked with the makeup of her act.
She attempted to inspire
All the members of the cast,
But she would break down when she was asked about the past.
Sally City was just a young girl,
Flirting with Broadway eyes,
With slim hips and ruby lips,
And skyscraper desires.
Sally City won’t you come down
To Earth for a change,
And take a peek at all the things
That God and man have not arranged.
Bottle of Blues
Bottle of blues, with a whiskey top.
Bottle of blues, with a whiskey top.
Once I get started, I just can’t stop
I dial the phone, but you just walked out.
I dial up your number, but you just walked out.
You can keep on walking, until you wear your shoes out.
Halfway full, halfway gone.
Half up full, half down gone.
Try to make it up, but you been gone too long.
Time flies by, my oh my.
How time flies, my, my, my.
I get so low, I get too high.
Bottle of blues, with a whiskey top.
Bottle of blues, with a whiskey top.
Once I get started, I just can’t stop.
Red Chair
Sitting on a red chair, pickin’ on my guitar,
Looking out yonder at a mountain sky.
Sitting on a red chair, pickin’ on my guitar,
And wondering why.
Why did we say the things that we said.
Why did we flee from the promise ahead.
Why couldn’t we have worked it out instead.
And why did I paint this old chair red.
Sitting in a cabin at a mountain hideaway,
Looking up yonder at the moon up there.
Sitting on a red chair, pickin’ on my guitar,
And wondering where.
Where did you run to, that cold winter night.
Footprints in the snow were all that you left behind.
Where are you now, I hope that you’re doing fine.
And Me? I’m rocking in my old red chair tonight.
Sitting on a red chair, pickin’ on my guitar,
Looking out yonder at the morning sun.
Sitting on a red chair, sturmmin’ on my guitar.
In the new day sun.
The Coleus is Turning Brown
An unknown voice in the darkness is all that it takes.
A sudden poor choice of words and your pulling up stakes.
Another bit of friction in a collection of mistakes.
It takes some time to know the quality of freedom you require.
I’ve never tried to compromise the past that you’ve acquired.
Angry words from out of context have spread like wild fire.
I never could understand you when I was trying to be your man.
I would always act as though I could understand.
A jealous vein would boil until I completely lost control.
I never should have asked if you had somewhere else to go.
The sun shines through the wicker in and empty place.
The coleus is turning brown and falling on the lace.
In the shadows of some cobwebs I believe I saw you face.
One More Kiss
We spent a summer somewhere near the great divide.
High up in the Rockies we lived mostly on love, you and I.
You raised a garden and I played my guitar,
You weren’t a good singer. I couldn’t grow a thing.
You wore a white linen dress in the moonlight.
We lived in a lost dimension somewhere beyond time.
That old dog Tinker, he went along with us.
We would awake when the sun touched our eyes.
We’d walk out to the river as naked as jaybirds.
The trout must have chuckled; they knew I couldn’t fish worth a damn.
They would not laugh at Tinker though, he could catch one now and then.
You and I and Tinker, why did this summer ever have to end?
When the aspens started turning
we both knew that we had to come down.
Give me one more kiss.
Our grubstake was getting low,
We knew we had to pack it up and go.
Just one more kiss.
Before it began to snow,
We would have to return below.
Only one more kiss.
High up in the Rockies, we lived mostly on love, you and I.
That summer somewhere near the great divide.
Lost at Sea
I get the loneliest feeling when I’m putting out to sea.
I get to feeling as if something is going to change with you and me.
Gigantic, Titanic loneliness in every rusty creek.
Somebody rescue me, I get lost out here at sea.
I guess it’s just my sea legs that take me back to ship.
A windward lure, Oceanus ties his knots with a sailor’s wit.
A shanghaied, drunken feeling at the pier of a broken heart.
Yes, my love, I’m leaving; I know I’m leaving from the start.
If a phantom lover rises from the fathoms of delay,
I’ll sail myself into a bottle crying, “Help! I’m cast away.”
I get the loneliest feeling when I’m putting out to sea.
I get to feeling as if something is going to change with you and me.
Gigantic, Titanic loneliness in every rusty creek.
Somebody rescue me, I get lost out here at sea.
If a leeward dream misleads me, turns me loose on phantom waves,
Adrift through ports of fantasy, mesmerized by lustful ways,
If I dock a while in thought and the thought of you drifts in,
Then it’s truth, not myth, that mermaids exist somewhere within.
A red sky in an Asian evening delights my salt filled eyes,
And navigates my billowed heart west, on homeward tides.
I get the loneliest feeling when I’m putting out to sea.
I get to feeling as if something is going to change with you and me.
Gigantic, Titanic loneliness in every rusty creek.
Somebody rescue me, I get lost out here at sea.
Magic of our Love
Sometimes when I’m down
If I get down on you,
It’s because you’re around,
That you’re the one that I choose.
You can hold your own ground,
When I get the blues.
We both know that we are responsible
For the lives that we use.
That’s the magic of our Love.
On special days that are high
If I space out on you,
You’re my wings, I can fly.
stretch out and spread the good news.
It’s the trust in our lives
That allows our different views.
We both know that we are responsible
For the life that we choose.
That’s the magic of our love.
What if it doesn’t work out,
Because of some natural cause?
What if formations of doubt
Are governed by natural laws?
What if “what if” were left out?
Just eliminate that thought.
We both know we are responsible,
For any love that we loose.
That’s the magic of our love.
Close Your Eyes
Close your eyes; think of what you’re saying.
Take a look inside; listen to how you’re praying.
“Lord up above, grant all of my wishes.
Make me the king, and the world my mistress.
Give me everything I think is delicious.
And, oh, don’t forget, give me you best wishes.”
Close your eyes. Try. Try to sleep tight tonight.
Close your eyes; think of the hereafter.
Send your mind upon a ride through human disaster.
Are our gods within? Is our language master?
Our bodies give in; do our spirits outlast us?
Can a new born babe sin? Do you remember the laughter?
And, oh, can you forget, or does our conscious live after?
Close your eyes. Try. Try to sleep tight tonight.
Close your eyes, are you alone now?
Is anybody there? Are we still juxtaposed now?
If you listen well, you may hear the world breathing.
Many things that you smell aren’t as you perceive them.
Blind sensations of touch may change what you’re feeling.
And, oh, can you forget, the bitter taste of last evening?
Close you eyes. Try. Try to sleep tight tonight.
Cuddle Up, Snuggle Up
You can fly as high as you want to,
That’s all right with me.
You can come and go when you’d like to,
As strange as that might seem.
You don’t have to ask me if I love you,
I’ll tell you exactly what I mean.
When you cuddle up, Cuddle up with me.
When you snuggle up, Snuggle up with me.
You can dance with anyone you want to,
That won’t hurt my pride.
Entertain whomever you have a mind to,
You are not confined.
But, when you need someone to show your love to,
Let me be there always by your side.
When you cuddle up, Cuddle up with me.
When you snuggle up, Snuggle up with me.
Telephone your friends whenever you want to,
I will not complain.
Say whatever is on your mind if you need to,
I am not afraid.
But, when it’s time to say “Darling I love you.”
Come to me any time of day.
When you cuddle up, Cuddle up with me.
When you snuggle up, Snuggle up with me.
Dance with Me
You just came in,
It’s very plain to me.
Candlelight is flickering,
It’s very hard to see.
I can’t see you dancing
With nobody but me.
I just came in,
It’s very hard to see.
You’re eyes are flaming,
You keep aiming inside of me.
I can’t see you dancing
With nobody but me.
We could go out stepping,
Maybe then you’d agree.
We could waltz across the floor
Maybe then you would see,
That you can’t go dancing
With nobody but me.
I can’t see you dancing
With nobody but me.
Liquid Midnight
I feel the midnight
Liquid in my soul again.
I can’t forget you,
No more than my own name.
The icy winds blow,
Through the cracks in my cabin walls;
Cold and down like your distant stare.
The winter moon glows,
Through stripped down branches,
Cold, and old, and bare.
Think I’ll take the time now;
The time I didn’t take then.
The passing time flows,
Like drifting smoke from my chimney highs.
I can’t be solid if I see your face.
Like tears on windows,
I can’t be straight and trace them any place.
Your Should Have Heard the Story Unfold
I tried to believe that I could see straight through the lies that you told.
But I just heard from a cue ball hood, and you should have heard his story unfold.
Maybe you thought my spirit was lost, well, I’ve got news for you.
I just stepped back onto the street, and the whole situation is new.
You should have heard his story unfold.
A tale more precious than gold.
Was it just a fantasy,
But, “Baby, I believe you.”
Ain’t it funny how that line grows old.
I heard you say that I need someplace to stay,
I agree, but you’re never at home.
Times will change, remember Dylan say
“Start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone.”
I just heard from a big bird in town,
And you should have heard the story she told.
From the mustard seed to rag weed,
How the distance in between has grown.
You should have heard her story unfold.
A tale more precious than gold.
Welcome to reality.
You just want to be free.
Ain’t it sad how you phrase it so cold?
Blind old sailor, tell me what you see,
You have your third good eye to go.
Psychic Madam, can you tell me,
Are all my premonitions wrong?
Circles and rhymes come together this time,
There’s a line that I thought you should know.
“The fool on the hill sits perfectly still.”
I didn’t have to listen long.
You should have heard the story unfold.
A tale more precious than gold.
Just a technicality,
But, Baby I’ve received you.
Ain’t t it eerie how the soul can know?
You Should Know by Now
You should know by now that I’m the one who holds your hand,
Every time you come in crying that you’ve lost another man.
I’m the one who shares the tears you shed for all your supermen.
I’d have thought by now you’d know that I’m you loving man.
If you don’t know, then let me tell you,
I’m the one you’ve come to depend on.
Just when you think you’ve made it through the politics of romance,
A dark horse gal gallops up and takes him by the hand.
While you believe there is satisfaction in his wayward glance,
Another gal makes his bed and some vamp goes through his pants.
Think of all the times I’ve knocked at three a.m.
Just as many times I’ve heard my back door slam.
If you don’t know, then let me tell you,
I’m the one you’ve come to depend on.
Your attempt to exist without emotional impact,
Fades into the consequence of how you react.
If you’ve contrived a theory about how love is so abstract,
I hope that you’ve included all the times that you’ve come back.
You say that you believe it’s just a matter of degree.
You know we’ve always made love passionately.
If you don’t know, then let me tell you,
I’m the one you’ve come to depend on.
A Simple Country Melody
There seem to be a lot of songs written about the country.
A lot of folks I know are thinking about a farm.
Every time I hear the rooster call, “Wake up, howdy sunrise!”
I believe it must be something more than just nostalgia.
I’m going to leave this fire escape forest for the trees.
I’m going to walk across this ocean of concrete to the seas.
I’m going to flee this city smog in a breeze.
I think I’ll grin, and pick a simple country melody.
I suppose there’s justification for living in the metro fumes.
There are the New Orleans, Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago blues.
Just give me the simplifications of a harvest moon.
I’d rather hear the melodies with natural points of view.
I’m going to leave this fire escape forest for the trees.
I’m going to walk across this ocean of concrete to the seas.
I’m going to flee this city smog in a breeze.
I think I’ll grin, and pick a simple country melody.
When I’m Overdone
I’m going to move to Florida,
I’ve reached sixty-five.
Collect a check once a month,
It will keep me alive.
I’m going to move to Florida, and lie out in the sun.
I’ll build some sand castles, until I’m overdone.
Hey grandma, is there still time for fun?
We’re lonely children from a past generation.
Time keeps marching on.
I’m moving south for my winter days,
Lay me out in the sun.
Let the sea reclaim me,
When I’m overdone.
More lyrics to come. I have to search for where I put them. And, yes, I could clean up the grammar and syntax some, but what does a country boy know about that.
Blabberjam 