Clay Chords of Throwing

Lyrics

0716 Clay Chord of Throwing

Well, Burt found himself fighting fires
In the city after the Civil War.
He also started one with Emily -
A florist who would be alone no more.

Joseph was born to them, a hammer on his mind,
But a sister that he would never know.
Ol' Joe then met Ada, a suffragette
And they were set with seeds to sow.

"The reason for this failure is that women haven't been able to bring pressure the bear upon the government, and government moves only in response to pressure. The reasons why women should have the vote are obvious to any fair minded person" Christabel Pankhurst

He built themselves a farm and they had Cora.
A neighbor boy, Howie, tilled her soul
They shared the land with her parents,
And managed together through the Dust Bowl.

Their two kids, Don and Shirley,
Were as different as block and ring -
Don became a banker, and Shirley
Met Isiah listening to Doctor King.

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Shirley and Isaiah adopted Jennifer
A daughter they raised in love and power
She married a fire fighter in the city,
But sadly he was caught in the second tower.

Now Jennifer sits with her son Noah
Alone, him on her knee
He's looking out with his father's eyes
She wonders what will be for he.

The roots of the American Family Tree
Are planted from the global seed
Even in the darkest of distress
Branches come together for progress.



0802 Clay Chord of Throwing

Our covenant is other worldly and spiritual, but grounded in a beingness. A responsibility from beyond our control that we are signed to regardless of our awareness of it. And even if we aren't aware of it, we are bound to find it eventually in our own ways. And when we know it and ignore it, as people, as a species, as beings - the only promise that is kept is remonstrance on the highest order. A klaxon of warning sounds in the silence when we do things like ignore the signals of climate change and issues of equity. When we sweep them under the carpet. In this covenant there is a responsibility to grow responsibly.

I recognize in you your sorrow,
I feel it, but it's not mine to borrow.
We all may be drunk on prosperity,
But bad empathy undermines its sincerity.



0808 Clay Chord of Throwing

The moon rose high above the trail that led to the cliffs,
As Jameson Davies stumbled to town in fits.
He was the lighthouse keeper on the edge of the sea,
But that night the pale moon was the only light to be.
His gait was short, and his eyes were wide,
One arm clutching the other tight to his side.
He found the door of Constable Bailey and knocked,
Awakening him from sleep, the door was unlocked.
Bailey took in Jameson - his face white as bone -
Not knowing the tale he’d soon be shown.
He put on a pot, with water for coffee
And sat with Jameson waiting for it to steam.

"H–Harold is gone! Dead - was killed by the ghosts!
We were sitting for supper, just a little soup and a little toast,
When there came a knock at the dor, and we thought we’d might as well be good
But no one was there - just the howl of the wind behind the wood!
Still Harold went out, for a look on his own,
While I stayed in the shadows and wedged myself beside the bookshelf alone.
A heartbeat later he screamed for me to see
A luminous ship set adrift in the sea.
From it came banshees with a wail and a cry,
With swords bright as moonlight and murder in their eye.
They poured on the shore and drifted to the beacon,
So we doused the flame, hid the light they were seekin’."

Bailey breathed slow, astonished what's been told.
But there was only one thought in his mind - 'Poor Harold'
He poured a coffee and continued listening
To the story retold by suffering Jameson.

"We couldn't hold off, they were just too many,
Their bodies were clear, but swords as metal as a penny.
They got my arm, but they got Harold's throat -
Come with me and see the damned ghostly boat"

Bailey donned his hat and his own sharp saber
He would have to be ready because he wasn't expecting any favors.
He ran to the signal, that saves ships from sinking
But it's true - in the rush - he was hardly thinking.
He got to the lighthouse and he kicked down the door
To see poor Harold bled out on the floor.
He sees no ghosts, nor boats, just blood on the walls and ceiling.
And is overcome then by a sickening feeling.

After a moment he hears footsteps behind him,
Not shuffling, but confident and grim -
He feels a peircing stab in his sides
And turns to the last thing he sees - Jameson's wild eyes.

Be careful who you trust, my friend,
For you never know who will guide you to the end.