1. |
Name All Day
05:04
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Sunflower
In the midnight hour
She bows her head, she bows her head
A new hour, a diamond power
Fresh eyes and ears to feel the tears burn down the faces
I can say the name all day
An April shower
Fifty miles per hour toward the sea, toward the sea
I would walk downtown to see you
With a nectarine and a paper bag filled with seeds
I could see the sun come through you
We got stranded on the fourth of July
On a tiny island underneath a velvet sky
On the roof in the summer rain
With friends who don’t even know their names
In the dark and in the light
I’ll be the same
God willing I won’t break your heart
I can say her name all day
On a pier in Belize
You move with ease and all I see is sunlight (sunshine)
Warm misty mountain
The Trevi Fountain
Baby let me follow you down where the sawgrass waves
A sunflower
In the midnight hour she knows how to bow her head
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2. |
Murder by Guitar
02:14
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I’m gonna kill a man with my guitar
Yes I’m a’gonna kill a man with only a guitar
My mama said son why don’t ya kill the evil men with that guitar
It’s a six stringed machine you can aim at the heart, that’s a guitar
I’m a gonna pull the strings back, take aim, and fire my guitar
I’m gonna take a man down with only a guitar
Mama done told me son take the evil men down with a guitar
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3. |
Thought It'd Never End
03:40
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I start awake some mornings with jolted, jostled, jaunty little smiles
Throw the window open wide
and add my voice to the fleshy damp spring choirs
Beading sweet sweat gathered up in silver drops
cascading down my chin
Blade and branch still wet from evening escapades
in sap stained piney glens
May morning’s palest cheek is flushed with freshness
by the gentle golden hues
Of brilliant sun-kissed memories
packed between some waking dream and you
Winter stretched a county mile
and just when I thought it would never end
Spring has sprung and with it love
and now it seems the sun can shine again
Blood is pumping hot and quick
and steam rises likes ghosts up from a lake
Swirling round and mixing with mosquito hawks
and twitching hot heat waves
Now my wheels are spitting rocks, turning fast,
throwing up a dusty cloud
Wind is whipping like a free fall but baby my feet are on the ground
Birds are diving, spinning, soaring,
looking like a thousand bomber planes
Sun a’glinting off their wings
and sure helping me forget that dirty rain
I’m throwing back my head and letting loose one more melody
Just in case you forgot the way
the honey warmth can change things for me
Like fireflies a buzzing bright,
shaking sleep and ice from the shining end
I’m thawing out with greenest sprouts
and striking out with diamonds on my brand new skin
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4. |
Mary-land
03:46
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My boy left home for to take his stand
Left his mama crying with flowers in her hand
Sailed on o’er to England back in 44
Operation Overlord on Normandy’s shore
On the other side stands a boy just like mine
They both follow orders, pushing on that line
His feet pound the ground to that fresh hole dug
Silent as the grave after manmade thunder struck
A telegram came to my door in Mary-land
Lonesome soldier placed a folded flag in my hand
The Germans are evil, so the papers read
Nothing is that simple with 60 million dead
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5. |
More Than One Way Home
04:46
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People think I'm strange and unclear
Won't let go of my dreams
They laugh at me with questions on their lips
They tell me I'm splitting at the seams
But with my cousin by my side
I step underneath the sun
Tired of all my friends and their doubting eyes
They’re making me want to run
More than one way home
In the town I grew up in
I’m known by my father’s name
Some would say that he’s an unlucky man
That all I bring home is shame
I got sadness in my eyes
And around the corners of my mouth
My spirit bent and almost broke
Growing up down south
But there’s more than one way home
Got to find my way back home
Learn to be myself at home
But, everyday there’s a brand new dawning
Every night a serenade
I wake with salt air in my lungs
And I walk toward an open gate
Down at the bottom of some ocean
Wild things moving nice and slow
I feel the highway pulling on my feet
And I can hear the wind whistle of my soul
On a Sunday morning,
All I could do was sing
I can’t keep my mouth closed
That ain’t no different than every other day
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6. |
Mind Full of Horses
05:00
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On the 22nd day of a long December
I could not get to sleep for the sound of remembering
All the years I’ve been pining, whining, crying
For a lover to help still my fear
With a mind full of horses, pounding round well worn courses
I heard hooves beat the ground, while the stars came unwound
And silver thread poured down from the sky
The pieces caught the eyes of children in their beds
And out they ran to catch it in their hands
All the children brought the strings to their hideout in the wings
Of a 1953 fighter plane
They adorned the silver wings with the hundred silver strings
And it shone like a moonbeam every night
All it takes to remember that day in December
Is a short walk underneath a pockmarked night
The wind will hunch your shoulders and time can make you colder
But a moonbeam is a time machine for eyes
My hard and lonely road with its tired groaning stones
Is thirsty for that silver-covered plane
Oh the way we used to sing, perched so proudly on the wings
Brings the North Wind to the embers in my chest
Two hundred strands of far off stars,
caught and laced through all the bars
In a clearing out behind a cut corn field
Out (of) the corner of my eye I see reflecting from on high
A hint of silver in every passing face
And when I remember the way I see it, come December
I revel in the glory and the grace
With a mind full of horses, pounding out well worn courses
It takes a season’s change to unfreeze my locked up frame
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Daniel Levi Goans North Carolina
Heeding to the winds and the waves on the Bay, BrotherStranger looks into the loneliest moments of human experience with a piercing gaze that weaves them into a place of tenderness and safety. These meditations are nestled in a poetic cadence that resists modern cynicism and fragmentation while harkening to a place in our hearts and our heritage that recognizes the sacred nature of narrative. ... more
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