Tunnel Vision

Standard
The first few lines of this song popped in my head one night while I was driving. This happens a lot. Sometimes I get on a tear and I have to pull over to write things down. Sometimes using the recorder on my phone is manageable. Other times I have to keep repeating things while I drive and hope I don’t come up with one lie too many and forget it. Tunnel Vision started as a little fragment that grew when I picked it up a few weeks later. Then I tucked it away and forgot about it. I came across it recently and fleshed it out.
I haven’t got someone to work out the music with but I do have a working melody, but it’s not easy for me to sing right now so I’ll wait to record it. My voice sounds alien to me. I suffer from a condition called vasomotor rhinitis and it has made it nearly impossible for me to sing for several months. Sometimes I can’t even croak out an octave. 
I suppose a lot of my stuff is moody, brooding or gloomy. Intense things just tend to inspire me more. And usually, words just pop into my head, like this one. I didn’t set out to write a song about an obsessive or smothering relationship. I think there are parts of this that are rooted in a relationship I had no business attempting but it sparked a lot of creative work and I can’t complain about that! The song does end on a hopeful note, swapping someone else’s narrow vision for the wide, clear, free expanse of blue sky. Yes, there’s a metaphor there. There’s a lot of symbolism in this song for you to work out in a way that’s meaningful to you someday. 

TUNNEL VISION

You are the intersection where my heart stopped
You are the course correction that fucked me up
Here stops my heart and it can go no further
Can’t veer off the road or make evasive maneuvers

All my gears are frozen still you set me spinning
And sorting through the sticks and stones is so confusing
You feel like an ending that is just beginning and it’s going to drag on

The sun is sinking deep into a panoramic blue
Visual dominion  holds my gaze like glue
Your own spectacular tunnel vision
The tunnel is wide
That tunnel is wide
And I can’t see through to the other side

You are the lake that iced with me half under
You are the sound at night that makes me shudder
Desperately lost and I can go no further
If my bones are never found who will avenge my murder

All my thoughts have folded in I can’t stop thinking
You must have found it funny when I came out swinging
You feel like an ending that is just beginning and it’s going to drag on

The sun is sinking deep into a panoramic blue
Visual dominion holds my gaze like glue
Your own spectacular tunnel vision
The tunnel is wide
That tunnel is wide
And I can’t see through to the other side

I’m prostrate at the crossroads with your boot on my back
You say that I’m mistaken but it’s there when I look back
And when I look up ahead the world just starts to crack
Oh the tunnel is wide
The tunnel is wide
And I can’t see through to the other side
No I can’t see through to the other side

So I’ll just put my head down and I’ll cover my eyes for a long time
So I’ll just put my head down and I’ll cover my eyes for a long time

I’ll put my head down and I’ll cover my eyes
‘Til the sun disappears
I’ll put my head down and I’ll cover my eyes
‘Til the sun disappears
I’ll put my head down and I’ll cover my eyes
‘Til the sun disappears And there is only blue sky
And there is only blue sky
And there is only blue sky
I’ll put my head down and I’ll cover my eyes
‘Til the sun disappears And there is only blue sky
Only blue sky
Only blue sky
Only blue sky
Only blue sky
Only blue sky

LM 2014
tmg-slideshow_l

Advertisements

Swamp Thing

Standard

Here is another thing I never got around to posting here. The year my brother killed himself, I’ll admit to writing a lot of dark and brooding stuff. Dark and brooding stuff is kind of my jam anyway which is hard for some people to grok because they often characterize me as a funny person. I do laugh a LOT. There is a whole lot wrapped up in it and there are some spots that could use a little tweaking. I’m not really sure if it’s a song or a poem. Perhaps it’s both. If  you have ever had addicts in your life and loved them whether it’s a friend, family member or lover this may articulate a lot of feelings for you.

the swamp

SWAMP THING

Trudging through this swamp that you have made
Moss you’ve hung like tinsel, miles and miles of ghostly trees
A million buzzing stinging things and quicksand at my feet
I’ll concede I’m lost and I just don’t believe
That even you can find the way out anymore

I see the fear you’ve woven into this charade
I know it when you falter, see the sweat pool upon your oar
I know you hear me talking, still you pretend to ignore
Even if you sacrifice the prospects of your joy
You seem so damn determined to leave me here alone

When a song could have been your compass
Now the notes have all gone out
And it really doesn’t matter
You’ve made the air so thick and hot
So here we are sinking with your dreams
And everything is exactly what it seems

Wading through this mess that you have made
You’ve opened all your presents, did you get everything
You wanted, did it make up for all the years of needs
Pardon me, If I say you don’t look satisfied
Sometimes we don’t know what we really need or want

You’ve convinced yourself of what you don’t yet know
A state of endless discontent, to which you’ve attached my light
As if I am instead the darkness, absence of all that’s bright
Up my hands, I surrender and I forfeit
You have told yourself a story who am I to unravel it

When a song could have been your lighthouse
Now the words have all gone black
And it really doesn’t matter
You’ve made the code too hard to crack
So here we are sinking with your dreams
And everything is exactly what it seems

-LM 2014

The Deep

Standard

Harp mermaid.jpg

THE DEEP

Do you feel my heart beneath your feet?
Do you feel the wave of turbulence about to spring up from the deep?
Do you sense that hand upon your back?
Do you know with every waking thought that a moment’s going to crack?

There’s a storm a brewing in the deep;
An awakening of something that’s been far too long asleep.
I know you hear it knocking despite the fire at your door.
Don’t be afraid to answer. It’s too loud to be ignored.

Do you hear the simple rhythm of the night?
When you look up, do you have a crown of stars or see merely scattered light?
Do you care what all this fight is for?
Do you know how many years of blood have left their mark upon this floor?

There’s a song forming in the deep;
An awakening of something that’s been far too long asleep.
I know you hear it calling through the forest, over the hills
Don’t be afraid to sing along, or listen standing still.

Have you felt time pass you, taking toll?
Do you hear the sounds of cracks and fissures, breakage in your soul?
Do you fear it’s certainly too late,
Now that you finally can articulate the change you want to make?

There’s a pearl forming in the deep,
An awakening of something that’s been far too long asleep;
Carried through an open window on the siren song of chance,
Inviting you to drop your burden and join into the dance.

Do you feel your heart beneath my wing?
Have you seen such strength mistaken for a brief and fragile thing?
Do you feel my hand inside your hand?
Does it matter any more to you where this flight is going to land?

Don’t be afraid of rumbling in the deep;
The awakening of something that’s been far too long asleep.
Greet that unfamiliar part of you like a dear and treasured friend.
Take a good look, hold it close, to love the dark is not an end.

Have you caught the scent of winter’s death?
Do you sense the rush of spring’s return in each and every breath?
You can taste the jasmine in your mouth.
Wounded hearts have steeped in every cup, yet flowers do pour out.

There’s a calm found after every storm,
A confidence, a knowing that you now are safe from harm.
There’s no sense treading water when your feet have found dry land.
Let the deep slip from your shoulders lost in endless sand.

-LM 2015

Changing Youth

Standard

This is a song, I started a long time ago that was worked on sporadically throughout the years and eventually recorded. It had long been one of my favorites. It was really a commentary on Looking back at lost youth as one grows older wondering if one should have done more. It is also about the young rebels of every generation who carry so much hope but also think they know everything. They don’t think they need to listen to the big wind of their parents.

Recently, I came across an online archive of lyrics and partial lyrics that I thought were lost forever and this snippet from the original song was in there. All my masters, notes, notebooks and computers were lost along with almost everything I owned in 2012. As an artist, it’s really heart wrenching to lose your art. It’s like losing your children!

Trauma has changed my brain so reconstructing things has been very difficult. Even lyrics from songs I have performed for years don’t pop off the top of my head the way they used to. There was another verse and a bridge to this song, but I don’t have it here. I remember it took setting the song aside for a several years before the right bridge came to me. Maybe something new will come to me more quickly this time around! Regardless, I was really very happy to find this old friend!

punks-80s-2

CHANGING YOUTH

Changing youth searching for truth in an empty room
Well, where will you go when the world gets old?
What will you have learned, from them?

This sacred place that we have forsaken inside our hearts now & then
Well, what will we say when it’s finally gone away
That we just played our parts?

I don’t have to tell you that you’re the only ones
Who can make a difference before more damage is done

Unholy thoughts that we act out
Then pray forgiveness in the dark
A kind of hush that you create
It’s a very good disguise

As you walk on by watch their big wind die
What did they know anyhow?
Changing youth you search for truth
But then you live a lie

And I don’t have to tell you that you’re the only ones
Who can make a difference before more damage is done

Changing youth searching for truth in an empty room….
-LM

I Know Where Your Love Lives

Standard

Just found this snippet of a piece of a song I was working on a couple of years ago. I intended it to be longer, but I don’t think I ever finished it.

Tea

If the heartbeat of this moment is all you have
What will you do?
Do you hear it knocking?
It rattles around
Down deep in your soul
pushing its roots down, down, deep underground

When you speak my name?
Do you know your own face?
Can you know that I love you?
Or must you touch everything to know that it’s real?
Do you comprehend?
I hold your truth
Oh and I see you I witness everything that you do
I know where your love lives and I’ll take good care of it for you

-LM MAR 2013

Songs of The Stomach Bard: Nostalgic Regrets

Standard

MaggiesBefore I moved to my current city I had a house-sitting gig here for a couple of months. Every time I would be coming back to the place I would pass this cute little building on a corner that looked like it should be a firehouse or even a small filling station but it said, Maggie’s over the front door so it had to be a cafe.

After I moved I forgot about it. Then I drove past it a week ago and had an, “Oh yeah, that place!” moment and decided to look it up. Turns out it’s been around for years and is a breakfast and burger spot so I decided I would get there early enough one day to check it out.

The parking lot was fairly desolate when I went in, I parked next to an old sedan that I’m betting belonged to an employee. As I got out an old truck pulled up and the owner whom I could tell from a distance had few teeth left rolled the window down for his dog and gave me a long stare. For a moment I thought, maybe this is close enough, but then I shrugged that off and entered.

maggies jukeboxThe place was seriously retro-divey! Old school vending machines, a jukebox and a red and possibly once white, checkered floor. The walls were covered with old movie memorabilia. Two booths sat empty under one window and there were a few tables littered about.

maggies codgersMost of the seating was on stools that were slightly too low following a long L shaped counter. Seated to my left with their backs to me, a gaggle of old fogies.

I took a seat at the other end of the L.

It was obvious this place was going to put the grease in greasy spoon! A smiling sunny waitress named Arlene obliged me with a cup of coffee that looked dubiously old but tasted fresh. The owner, Ed was at the grill filling the place with the smell of sizzling murdered cow. I shouldn’t have, but I had to order a cheeseburger. Maybe it was the pressure of the clutter surrounding me, maybe it was the feeling of nostalgia. Maybe it was the caffeine kicking in. Maybe the bus boy mopping the floor while I scanned the menu just made me nervous. “Order the burger” demanded the voice in my head. So I did.

maggies grill

The fries were really good, sliced with the skins on them. I asked Arlene if she had any dressing I could dip them into and she beamed, “We have ranch dressing! Home made!” “Perfect! I’ll try it!” I’m partial to dipping french fries in blue cheese dressing rather than ketchup. It’s something my brother got me hooked on when we were kids! The ranch worked fine. And when I told her how good it was it seemed to make her day! “Thank you! I make it myself from scratch!”

Maggies burgerThe burger by the standards of burgers you get at restaurants these days was not great but it was strangely satisfying. I had ordered it medium well and the cook had actually managed that state. It was greasy yet slightly dry and had some tough spots. All the toppings were just kind of perfect. It was a burger of small town childhood memory, a time machine. But sometimes you can’t go back, or at the very least you shouldn’t and my stomach was going to be the first to remind me of that.

maggies memorobeliaAs I sat in the car feeling my first twinges, Arlene came running out the door with my sweater. It had been warm that day but I had taken it in just in case the place had air conditioning. (It didn’t.) Please angry stomach. Let me make it home before you make me pay, I pleaded!

My stomach said, ok, just this once but first I’m gong to sing to you and you have to write this down word for word! Deal?

I whimpered and complied. Thus The Stomach Bard was born!

“You may think you had a nostalgic lunch
And that greasy meat was fun to munch
But you are so very wrong
And so I wrote you this song…..

You are going to live to regret this
You are going to be sorry you et it
When you spend an unwanted hour in the looooooo
While I rain intestinal distress down upon you

Boop boopie do

Boy oh boy I hope it was worth it
Remember that when you drop that nuclear sh**
Will you never learn
As the stomach turns

You are going to live to regret this
You are going to be sorry you et it
This is why the vegetarian lifestyle was so much better for you
Maybe next time you’ll choose “garden” instead of “moo”

Boop boopie doobie gurgle doo wah wah”

-LM’s tum tum 2015

maggies superman

Stupid Man

Standard

*music is coming for this one and maybe one more verse

lonely man

Oh what a stupid man
He thought he was very clever
Pretending to throw all the gold away
And hiding all.the silver

He used every last bit of it up
And squandered his roll in clover
Then stubbornly stared at the emptiness
And swore it was what he wanted

Oh what a sad sad day
When the sunlight has gone away
Those blue eyes too blind to notice
And oh what a silent night
When all music has taken flight
And those ears are as deaf as a stone

Oh what a stupid man
he swears he meant no harm
Sweeping the signs under the rug
Says he never saw it coming

He carelessly wired his bomb
And the shrapnal flew all over
Then he stared right past the carnage
And claimed himself the victim

Oh what a sad sad day
When compassion has gone away
The damage might be everlasting
Oh the plight of a broken heart
That can’t tell that it’s blown apart
And will never again find a home

There goes the stupid man
Forever he’ll be lonely
Even if he “has someone”
Only deceit will walk with him

His life is as flimsy as sand
His soul is as thin as paper
Like curses the stories he tells himself
Are a prison of his own making

Oh what a sad sad day
When the sunlight has gone away
Those blue eyes too blind to notice
And oh what a silent night
When all music has taken flight
And the heart is as dry as a bone.

 

-LM 2015