Pet the Cat
There's me back home,
There's me on the road.
There's me in the twilight,
Under stars untold.
There's me on the mountain,
There's me in the hole,
There's wood in the hearth,
There's me in the cold.

I'm gonna light me a fire,
I'm gonna strike me a match.
I'd leave this world,
But I'm too attached.
I'm gonna plant a field,
I'm gonna hoe a row.
Scatter some seed,
And Watch it grow.

Will you wait for me,
I'm coming home,
Just a call away on the telephone?
Another highway in another state,
I'll hoe that row until I, I get it straight.

There's a big fat cat,
Out on patrol.
Between me and the cheese,
And that cubby hole.
I got a hole in my stomach,
I got an empty plate.
But you stay down wind,
When you're fat cat bait.

Will you wait for me trim and true,
I got some calls to make,
And chores to do.
The road is lonesome,
The cheese is fat,
You say a prayer,
I'll pet the cat.

There's my state and there's my street
And there's my house, and something good to eat.
You know I've been away too long,
When I can't wait to mow the lawn.

I'm not a farmer or a business man,
To make ends meet you do what you can.
I've been through Hell,
I've lived through that,
If I don't die,
I'll pet the cat.

Will you wait for me,
I'm coming home,
Just a call away on the telephone?
The road is lonesome,
The cheese is fat,
You say a prayer,
I'll pet the cat.

Marlene
Learn to let it go Marlene,
Have you misinterpreted your girlhood dreams?
Life happens like rivers flow,
Dam it all - or let it go.
Hold it back or let it run
Kingdoms go and kingdoms come.

Remember when it was you,
You don't see it coming - it comes so slow.
He stood strong by your side,
Now it's his turn to hide.
Nips of gin - on his way home,
So you won't know - how far he's gone.
Does he hear you cry at night
For the drunken fool in the TV light.

Life happens like night and day,
Color your hair but, it still grows grey.
Color your face so your age don't show,
Stay inside and watch the hours go.
Or take your place in the sun,
Kingdoms go and kingdoms come.

Beautiful Maiden dressed in white,
Rose scented candles, for your wedding night.
Beautiful Dreamer, a perfect day,
When the love of your life stole your heart away.
Does he hear you cry at night
For the drunken fool in the TV light.

Learn to let it go Marlene,
Have you misinterpreted your girlhood dreams?
Life happens like rivers flow,
Dam it all - or let it go.
or take your place in the sun,
Kingdoms go and kingdoms come.

History
I was born to the bones of a mill town
In the heart of poverty,
Where all you made was good times,
Hitler was history.

When Elvis became King,
From shore to shining shore,
They cut his hair and teenhood,
And made a poster-boy for war.

Hear the call, get in line,
Pull your weight, do your time.
A picture perfect prodigy.
That's history.

I was standing on the corner,
I was holding down the curb.
I was waiting on a peace train
A rumor that I heard.

And the flag went up in flames
I heard an awful cry.
I saw it on TV.
I watched the war go by.

See the fire, who's to blame?
It's in the streets,
the police came.
There's pictures for the world to see,
History.

There are pirates on the water,
The reaper's at the door.
Existing in the order,
They reap the spoils of war.

Disk Jockey play me,
Spin me one more song,
Like a dime on the tip of your finger,
You spin, I'll sing along.

About peace and common ground,
And a world tore apart,
The highwaymen in the bushes
The bullet broken hearts.

Another soul, a bag of bones,
In another hole, in a row of stones.
Another mother's legacy,
History.

I was rolling down the highway
Putting poetry to rhyme.
Making sense of my existence
Raising up old bones.

Can you try to see it my way
In between the broken lines.
Am I my own resistance
Praying to the stones?

Speak your mind, bullets fly,
Leaders lead, people die.
It's not magical or mystery,
It's History.

Highway
John, has taken to the highway,
He loves the wind in his face,
His destiny in his hands,
A puzzle piece in its place,
His Harley between his knees,
Riding his own breeze,
Lit up like "King of the Pride,"
It's not the arrival, it's the ride.

Free from the rod at his back,
He's Free from the call of the clock,
Free from the yoke at his neck,
A highway right of way.

Al, has taken to the skyway,
He loved the sound of the sax,
Magic at his lips,
Power at his finger tips,
His patrons' hearts at his knees,
Riding his own breeze,
Lit up like "King of the Pride,"
It's not the departure, it's the ride.

Free from the rod at his back,
He's Free from the call of the clock,
Free from the yoke at his neck,
A skyway right of way.

Michael, but the years blow by,
And just when we're getting it right,
Here be the end of the ride,
It comes like a thief in the night,
I'm sorry about your brother Tom,
I seen him in your father's eyes,
And although he's come and gone,
He'd a never turned down the ride.

He's free from the rod at his back,
He's free from the call of the clock,
Free from the yoke at his neck,
A skyway right of way.

John, has taken to the highway,
He loves the wind in his face,
His destiny in his hands,
A puzzle piece in its place,
His Harley between his knees,
Riding his own breeze,
Lit up like "King of the Pride,"
It's not the arrival, it's the ride.

Free from the rod at his back,
He's free from the call of the clock,
Free from the yoke at his neck,
A highway, sky highway right of way.

Hard Knocks
Tony was a good man,
And in the great depression,
A Merchant Marine at age fifteen.

He was in the CCC's,
Then he joined the Army,
And he fought the great World War,
Where he learned to drink.

Adopted a family,
Old secrets aren't clear to me,
He kept us safe from woeful tears.

He loved my mother,
There never was another,
Except Friday night fights,
And Bohemian beers.

Hard knocks and heart ache,
It don't matter who you are,
Nurturing a painful past,
Can make a journeyman of the bar.
Comradery in a bottle,
You know the painless can be so cruel,
They don't realize the hero,
They only see the Fool.

Bobby was a good old boy,
An iron horseman,
From the city of Troy,
He loved to ride,
And let his colors fly.

He carried more crosses,
Than that cycle had horses,
And that last cross,
broke his stride.
A wife of twenty-some years,
Left him in a puddle of tears,
Three children too, so I'm told.

He kept the boys together,
But he could have done better,
If he had left them crosses,
At the side of the road.

Hard knocks and heart ache,
It don't matter who you are,
Nurturing a painful past,
Can make a journeyman of the bar.
Comradery in a bottle,
You know the painless can be so cruel,
They don't realize the hero,
They only see the Fool.

He ain't all bad,
He ain't all good,
Who's to say who shouldn't or should,
A hungry man won't be told.

Even Mary Magdalene,
After living a life of sin,
At the story's end,
Had a heart of gold.

Hard knocks and heart ache,
It don't matter who you are,
Nurturing a painful past,
Can make a journeyman of the bar.
Comradery in a bottle,
You know the painless can be so cruel,
They don't realize the hero,
They only see the Fool.

Shine Boy
Snow flows in circles
Revealing the wind
Christmas lights glow in a halo.

Garland hung across the street
Strung pole to pole
Bus tires crunching the new snow.

Carols on loud speakers
Mark Christmas Eve
He holds closed his collar
His hands up his sleeves.

Visions of big tippers
Danced in his mind
He holds out his shoe box
Ten cents a shine.

Ten blocks to Main Street
In the New England cold
Two hours, no takers
Damn the snow.

The neighborhood's sleepy
But Main Street's alive
Crowded with shoppers
In nineteen fifty-five.

The minister's scrapbook
Brings tears to his eyes
The newspaper clippings
The picture inside
Of the shine boy on a curbstone
With tears coming down
And the caption read,
"The Lonliest Boy in the Town."

Nothing so tender as the love of a mother
As sure and steady as hourglass sand.
Nothing slows time like the grip of hunger,
Nothing stops time like the back of her hand.

The shine boy sits down
On the edge of the curbstone
His feet in the gutter
His head in his arms.

A camera man calls
and gets his attention,
In the flash, a picture,
The moment lives on.

In the forgotten scrapbook
Pictures don't lie
Confronted by a moment
He'd rather deny
As he stopped in the church
To get out of the cold
A vision comforted his soul

Nothing so tender as the love of a father
As sure and steady as hourglass sand.
The fatherless boy, the husbandless mother
The poet, the prophet, the savior of man.

Snow flows in circles
Revealing the wind
And Christmas lights glow in a halo.

Mill Town Boy
All I got's this hole in my head
Listen what the wind blew through.
I ain't in touch except for pulling some strings
Me and this guitar keep courting the Blues.
A blast from the past practically blew me away.
A friendly letter can open a book
"The Best of the God Old Days."

Mill Town Boy, Crazy Edie you're a hell of a guy.
We spun our wheels at the tops of the tops
Higher than where eagles fly we hung with the moon.
Beams lit up the night sky
Higher than the winter fuel bills.
He moved down south on a green light
And now he's approaching the hill.

Hennie Pennie's at a stand still
Dancing to talk radio.
Guitar Steve is in the hot seat.
He drinks a little wine, he eats a little crow.
The night falls down on Bean Town
And the night life cascades a display.
Would be stars play their heart throbs,
In the light of the songster's arcade.

Mill Town Boy, Crazy Edie you're a hell of a guy
We spun our wheels at the tops of the tops
Higher than where eagles fly we hung with the moon.
Beams filled up the night sky
Higher than the screeching chalk shrills.
Them school days are in a purple haze
And now we're approaching the hill.

The years blow by like the wind on the fly
Unnoticed except for the cold.
When it blew so hard it knocked you out of your shoes
Like a red hot love or a stone cold blues.
Lou's still riding the high seas,
And the beach still goes on in L.A.
I'm reminiscing an old song,
The best of the good old, These are the good old days.

Mill Town Boy, Crazy Edie here's mud in your eye
Here's to spinning wheels and to mountain tops
And places where eagles fly
Here's to the moon, holding the high tide
Riding on the wings of a prayer.
A camel ride through a needle's eye
A draw card can take you there.

Here I Am
I had a brother fall in autumn,
He's weathered, tired and torn,
He'd been confined to the fast lane,
Since the day that he was born.

And he never made excuses,
You know I knew him when,
He rode a 57 Harley,
To Hell and back again.

And what else could be better,
The sun arcing off the chrome,
And the wind whistling - welcome home,

Blue jeans and black leather,
Flying in between the lines,
Like poetry on cloud nine.

I got a brother in the guard house,
He's weathered, tired and torn,
Been confined to the guard house,
Since the day that he was born.

And he never had no confidence,
And he never knew no peace,
In fear of what's to come,
Keep comings never cease.

A bomb beaten soldier,
Suspicious of the air,
Imagining, what isn't there.

Looking over his shoulder,
And the silence seemed to shout,
And he's bound by his own mouth.

There's a woman in my home town,
And she wears a thorny crown,
For all the broken children,
Where all the chips are down.

And she never passes judgment,
And she deals with what's at hand,
She's a tender loving mother,
As strong as any man.

Lifting up from down under,
The debris of what went wrong,
A confident, in the storm.

When all is gone asunder,
She's a beacon in the night,
The melody of a heart felt song.

Have you ever seen them black clouds,
That come blocking out the sun,
They come rolling in on thunder,
And they pour on everyone.

And a fair wind from the southern,
Leans against the storm,
Kicks up its heels in fury,
Where the cold air meets the warm.

And the sun breaks through the thunder,
And the rays of beaming gold,
Are like God's own hands collecting souls.

And me, I look in wonder,
At the parting of the sky,
And the wind whistles,
Here am I, Here I am.

Careful Of The Devil
All God's children want a happy home,
A strong foundation and a cornerstone.
A place to lay your weary head,
And the hands that keep them warm and fed.

You be careful of the Devil, he's a Hell of a liar,
And he can talk a bum from a warm camp fire.
And he can drown a fish with a quenchless thirst,
And he can take what hurts and make it worse.

In the tenement houses on the lower south side,
Where the walls have ears and the streets have eyes,
And the girls wear red and the boys wear black,
And Friday night comes like a heart attack.

A Devil's ransoms gonna be paid,
Yet the best he could do was stay away,
Momma don't feel what momma don't know,
And nobody cares on old skid row.

Daddy left home like he disappeared,
He sure could've used that strong right hand,
Momma worked all day in the Holley Mill,
And now she sees another man.

Jennie and the Harley were a beautiful sight,
There's nothin' about them He didn't like.
And he carried that load but he couldn't let go,
And he got dragged down that old skid row.

You be careful of the Devil, he's a Hell of a liar,
And he can talk a bum from a warm camp fire.
And he can drown a fish with a quenchless thirst,
And he can take what hurts and make it worse.

All God's children want a happy home,
A strong foundation and a cornerstone.
Wayward children tend to stray,
As the cornerstone gets chipped away.

You be careful of the Devil, he's a Hell of a liar,
And he can talk a bum from a warm camp fire.
And he can drown a fish with a quenchless thirst,
And when you think he can't he'll make it worse.

Winter Sun
You burned up like a winter sun,
A white hot light in a cold blue sky,
Late to rise and quick to fly,
You cop and then you run.

A source of warmth on those frigid days.
The winter night come way too soon,
House lights on at five o'clock,
The winter sun falls like a rock.

I didn't know you'd go that day.
To the poppy fields
Where the wayward children play.

All night long, running in the park.
Hide and seeking in the dark.
I didn't go I didn't know that game.

The junkyard dog is on your heels.
You wayward children know how it feels
Stay too long and play too hard,
You'll get caught in that junkman's yard.

You couldn't keep the love you found.
The winter sun could never stay
Long enough to melt away
The frozen rock hard ground.

You couldn't keep yourself away
From the junkman's yard
Where the wayward children play.

All night long, flying with the flock.
Hide and seeking in the dark.
I didn't go I didn't know that pain.

Tell his father that Johnnie lost the war.
Who'll tell his mother he had a heart attack?
Only his lover knows the cold heart-wrenching fact
Who covered up the monkey tracks.

The springtime sun takes its place.
The winter sun is on the run
The curtain falls the deed is done
The star's on his face.

The heroin's left all alone.
She touches death with her finger tips
Cries his name, kisses his lips,
And doesn't leave a trace.

She didn't know he'd go that day,
To the poppy fields, where the wayward children play.
All night long, flying towards the sun,
Hide and seeking on the run.
She didn't know he had to go that way.

Never Too Late
I know the lie, I felt it's slap,
I've learned to keep the cold to my back.
I got so low, so I got high.
Is it hard to watch the baby cry?

Never too late to learn,
Never too early to go.
When the tables turn
I move too slow.

I felt the heat, I touched the fire,
I could stay and watch the flames get higher.
I thought you knew, you understand,
It's cold, but I don't give a damn.
I'd stay if I liked pain,
I'd say good-bye if I thought you'd care.
I paid the fare, I'll take the train,
You need the space, I need the air.

Never too late to learn,
Never too early to go.
When the tables turn
I move too slow.

You dug a hole, you set a trap,
See what unfolds while you take a nap.
I hit the road, I did my time,
I wiped my feet and left my devils behind.
You keep your "only you know why",
I'll keep my pride, and catch a flight.
You earn the things that you can't buy,
And I won't pet, dogs that bite.

Never too late to learn,
Never too early to go.
When the tables turn
Don't move so slow.
Don't move so slow.
Don't move so slow.

Feather
You see the Doc is tending bar,
He had Cubby on the phone,
And he's drunk and drugged and toying with a gun.
It was a long distance cry
Over the grave of Featherstone,
Burned Bridges, No returns, Done's Done.

Feather was a strong arm
Bookmaker at the bar,
For the old man pitching cards in the back,
Who's blowing smoke of discontentment
Out the side of his cigar,
A hand shake, a wink, a contract.

I shot Feather in his bed,
I put the gun in his hand,
You know toying with the mob is suicide.
And playing catch-me-if-you can,
Doesn't fly with the old man,
I got bought, he got caught, and he died.

Trust your ears to what's around you,
Like your hands on contact,
Trust your eyes as you move forward,
Trust your friends to watch your back.
And When fate shores a mountain,
When right gets twisted wrong,
From men from dust to dust,
You pick up, you move along.

I had a wife and I had kids,
I had a big league contract,
I had the world on a stick when I was young.
Promise of fortune and fame,
A sure spot in the game,
I was Phoenix, rising from the dung.

I was easy prey for sin,
I had no self-discipline,
Too much, too fast, for just a kid.
And I got stopped dead in my tracks,
By the monkey on my back,
I don't recall losing it all, but I did.

You see gambling was the game,
Bread and butter of the vain,
And the easy money came when the blood run cold.
And it's brought me to this wake,
To bury my name sake,
Who followed my footsteps to this hole.

Trust your ears to what's around you,
Like your hands on contact,
Trust your eyes as you move forward,
Trust your friends to watch your back.
And When fate shores a mountain,
When right gets twisted wrong,
From men from dust to dust,
You pick up, you move along.

Like all them sons of Cain,
That could never break the chain,
That binds them like the truth in some old fable.
Feather was my friend,
I knocked he let me in,
Part of me hated him, he was so Able.

Cubby hung up the phone,
Twelve hundred miles from home,
A fugitive of love in a nod.
He put the gun to his head,
Wishing he were dead,
Wishing that he had trusted God.

Trust your ears to what's around you,
Like your hands on contact,
Trust your eyes as you move forward,
Trust your friends to watch your back.
And when fate shores a mountain,
When right gets twisted wrong,
From men from dust to dust,
You pick up, you move along.

You see the Doc was tending bar,
They had Cubby on the phone,
And he's drunk and drugged and toying with a gun.
It was a long distance cry,
Over the grave of Featherstone,
Burned Bridges, No returns, Done's Done.

Progress Is A Slow Train
Rachel's on the back yard swing,
Sarah's doing the sandbox thing,
This old house will bring them warmth and shelter.

That old shops closing down,
And that old mill's on rocky ground,
And that old song ain't nothing these old walls haven't heard before.

Progress is a slow train,
Moved by an idea, built on a dream.
Conclusions are illusions,
It's just the horizon,
It's just the end,
Where you start again.

This old world's turning round,
And that old tide is up and down,
And that old moon keeps losing ground, to obscurity.

That old car is stinking gas,
And this too will come to pass,
A hundred miles, a hundred bucks,
Ain't what it used to be.

Progress is a slow train,
Moved by an idea,
Built on a dream.
Suspicions and conditions,
Can slow you down,
Like a stumbling block,
We'll go around,
But we won't stop.
We'll fill the void,
Where we see the need.
Give of ourselves,
Till our hearts bleed.

Rachel come home again,
Sarah's living in the city,
Musicians drink like fishermen,
Long, hard and slow.

Mary, Mary with the white halo,
With roots as white as snow,
Tell me if you know,
Where does the time go.

Progress is a slow train,
Moved by an idea, built on a dream.
Conclusions are illusions,
It's just the horizon,
It's just the end,
Where you start again.