Seven Songs EP Lyrics
1: Unconfirmed
Words: Cornelius Eady
Music: Bernie Heveron and Cornelius Eady
Arranged by Rough Magic
Step aside, step aside
Trouble’s coming, step aside
Step aside, step aside
Trouble’s coming, step aside.
Left, right, up down
Back and forth, town to town
I’m a torn coat, a wild seed
Unconfirmed, a bad breeze
I am a pilgrim on that lonesome highway
Beneath an endless sky
I am a pilgrim on that lonesome highway
Never thought I’d be that guy.
Left, right, up down
Back and forth, town to town
I’m a torn coat, a wild seed
Unconfirmed, a bad breeze
Step aside, step aside
Trouble’s coming, step aside
Step aside, step aside
Trouble’s coming, step aside.
Left, right, up down
Back and forth, town to town
I’m a torn coat, a wild seed
Unconfirmed, a bad breeze
I am the dust that stalls the engine
The grit that floats in your eye
I am the flat note in the choir
Never thought I’d be that guy
Left, right, up, down
Back and forth, town to town
I’m a torn coat, a wild seed
Unconfirmed, a bad breeze.
Step aside, step aside
Trouble’s coming, step aside
Step aside, step aside
Trouble’s coming, step aside.
Left, right, up down
Back and forth, town to town
I’m a torn coat, a wild seed
Unconfirmed, a bad breeze
2: Maumee Ruth
Poem: Sterling A. Brown
Music: Cornelius Eady
Arranged by Rough Magic
Might as well bury her
And bury her deep
Might as well put her
Where she can sleep
Might as well lay her
Out in her shinny black
And for the love of God
Not wish her back
Maum Sal may miss her—
Maum Sal, she only ---
With no one now to scoff
Sal may be lonely….
Nobody else there is
Who will be caring
How rocky was the road
For her wayfaring
Nobody be heeding in
Cabin, or town
That she is lying here
In her best gown
Boy that she suckled---
How should he know,
Hiding in city holes
Sniffling the ‘snow’?
And how should the news
Pierce Harlem’s din,
To reach her baby gal,
Sodden with gin?
To cut her withered heart
They cannot come again,
Preach her the lies about
Jordan, and then
Might as well drop her
Deep in the ground
Might as well pray for her
That she sleep sound
3: Twilight Is The Hour
Words and Music: Cornelius Eady
Arranged by Rough Magic
The lamps in Bryant Park glow like fireflies
Duende floats under the trees.
A group of poets sing the blues
To fill in the space where you ought to be
Twilight is the hour of the Motherless Child
Another man gone, gone down that lonesome mile.
Twilight is the hour.
There’s a tongue we use to let things go
There’s a song that we shake at danger.
There’s a way to wash a body down,
Even if he’s a stranger.
Twilight is the hour of the Motherless Child
Another man gone, gone down that lonesome mile
Twilight is the hour.
There are words we spin to shadow a hearse,
A prayer to un-jumble the mad universe.
The poets breathe Trayvon into the wind.
It could happen to you like it happened to him.
For Trayvon Martin
4: Leaving Sickness
Words and Music: Cornelius Eady
Arranged by Rough Magic
Can’t tell the wind
From the breeze
Can’t tell the forest
From the trees
Can’t tell a diamond
From a stone
Can’t tell a snake
From a bone.
You give me
Leaving sickness
Can’t tell piss
From the rain
Can’t tell a dummy
From a brain
Can’t tell happy
From a drag
Can’t tell a silk scarf
From a rag.
You give me
Leaving sickness
Can’t tell hunger
From a piece of pie
Can’t tell truth
From a pack of lies
Can’t tell love
From a kick in the ass
Can’t tell your future
From my past.
You give me
Leaving sickness
Can’t tell a wise man
From a fool
Can’t tell a teacher
From a school
Can’t tell a switch blade
From a tool
Can’t tell a shark tank
From a wading pool
You give me
Leaving sickness.
Can’t tell a sinner
From a priest
Can’t tell a bullet
From total peace
Can’t tell what’s living
From what’s deceased.
Can’t tell gristle
From a piece of meat.
You give me
Leaving sickness.
Can’t tell champagne
From soda pop
Can’t tell love
From a broken heart
Can’t tell a doodle
From a piece of art
Can’t tell what’s started
From what’s stopped
You gave me
Leaving sickness.
5: Painting Song
Words: Cornelius Eady
Music: Cornelius Eady and Rough Magic
Arranged by Rough Magic
There’s a sea in a bottle,
There are pigs in the sky.
There are clouds where your lungs were,
But don’t ask me why.
You just do what you have to,
You just see what you see.
Scratch your head, if you want to,
Makes no difference to me.
I’m unscrambling my head,
Painting, painting
Decoding what the light just said,
Painting, painting
Pushing breath through my brush
Filling in the blanks, as we must.
Maybe you’d like a postcard,
Or a slap on the back.
You made the wrong turn, buddy,
Your trains on the wrong track.
You keep looking for Whistler,
You get ghouls at the mall.
A woman’s accusations,
Holy warts, and all.
I’m unscrambling my head,
Painting, painting
Decoding what the light just said,
Painting, Painting
Pushing breath through my brush,
Filling in the blanks, as we must.
You just do what you have to,
You just see what you see.
Scratch your head, if you want to,
It’s just music to me.
For Susan Micklem
6: A Poet Forgets His Library
For Jack Agueros
Words: Cornelius Eady
Music: Bernie Heveron
Arranged by Rough Magic
Look at all those lovely books.
What are all those books to me?
Words are wriggle-fish in an endless sea.
I over-hear them talking,
Sometimes I think
They’re talking about me.
All this time, all this time
All this time at sea.
They say it has no memory.
A poet forgets his library.
Something was written long ago.
A voice I should know says it was written by me.
Something like a hymn, almost holy song,
Some face on the cover, but they’ve
Got it all wrong.
Tell me what this nonsense
Has to do with me?
All this time, all this time
All this time at sea.
They say it has no memory.
A poet forgets his library.
My name they say, is a man beloved,
A man with a printed history.
Here I sit, and here they try
To read it back to me.
What’s this accusation?
The hell is poetry?
All this time, all this time
All this time at sea.
They say it has no memory.
A poet forgets his library.
7: Last Known Address
Words and Music: Cornelius Eady
Arranged by Rough Magic
John Snowden’s been pardoned
Where can we find him?
Deep in the woods, down some gully
Wind, lifting leaves
In some Potter’s field
Send the news to the ones
He loved best
Mail the letter
To his last known address.
John Snowden’s been pardoned
Who’s gonna tell him?
The un-mowed grass
On his un-marked grave,
The butterflies floating
Heavy with nectar.
Send the news to the ones
He loved best
Mail the letter
To his last known address
John Snowden’s been pardoned
Who’ll say we’re sorry?
Maryland then ain’t Maryland now,
A white girl’s dress
Was a black man’s burden.
Send the news to ones
He loved best
Mail the letter
To his last known address
John Snowden been pardoned
His hard times are over
A black man dead since 1919
A free man now,
He’s a free man now.
Send the news to the ones
He loved best
Mail the letter
To his last known address
John Snowden’s been pardoned
The insult forgiven
The technicality of a wandering eye
The skin that couldn’t hold
His alibi.
Send the news to the ones
He loved best
Mail the letter
To his last known address.