The Freewheelin' Troubadour - The World Turns - Live @ Proud

09.08.08

The World Turns

The marching man in the marching band,
plays his song and claps his hands,
my mhost draws traces in the sand,
the world it turns regardless.

A loveless bride to be she weeps,
unanswered calls from Shepherd's sheep,
get herded down a path that's meek,
by using the same barber.

Half full or empty is indescript,
it holds irrelevance in this defining trip,
where tears down cheeks they slowly drip
try not to fall, but beware of the slip,
removed from your chest its your heart that's ripped,
The painting remains unsigned.

Women lose spines on Atkins diet,
tell their children to be quiet,
the angst-filled Anglophile starts a riot,
he gives the wall a pasting.

Them magazines make you see the way,
it is you're meant to be, they say,
just don't think twice and walk away,
the Priest will keep on preaching.

Jokers will always dent your pride,
whilst Thieves take call girls for a ride,
as curtains draw, he slips inside,
the sordid seeds they're spreading.

Sav takes a pull and strums a tune,
as summer nights arrive too soon,
funeral attendees fill the room,
smoking cigarettes, re-doing lipstick.

The church promotes it's faith as fact,
but I saw his imagine in a burlap sack,
Degenerated, and painted black
its statues weight is getting slack,
with healing hands, its knowledge they lack,
Bring the tray round, so I can sleep soundly.

A tramp is sick into a bin,
and begs forgiveness for his sin,
a worker sips his paint stripped gin,
holds signs that point to subway.

The sign points up, but life goes down,
as lost freewheelers roam this town,
one lengthy toke removes their frowns,
they no longer care where they're going.

Kids get too much, wives not enough,
husbands build houses, then sleep out in the rough
if you can't smile then that's just tough,
you play the hand you're dealt with.

The concept of love leaving fit men blind,
better move it quick, don't get left behind,
wrap your own heart up in the ties that bind,
Gold diggers dig gold in abandoned mines,
hold lovers hands and stroll past pines,
What's mine is yours and yours is mine,
"What's that? You don't like sharing? Fine.
My love has no conditions"

As the sun may rise and suddenly fall,
and clouds shade shadows from the wall,
i'll love all forever, and not at all,
still the world it turns regardless.

www.myspace.com/thefreewheelintroubadour

Category:

Music

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• Viola
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• Performing
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