#46
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Well, I always love to be told a good story. None more moving than the story of a partisan who survives all the major battles of the Eastern front only to be caught up in a transit camp at wars end and another long journey to where the steely Russian skies go on forever........
They crossed over the border, the hour before dawn Moving in lines through the day Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay Waiting for orders we held in the wood Word from the front never came By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away Ah, softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees Crossing their lines in the mists in the fields on our hands and on our knees And all that I ever Was able to see The fire in the air glowing red Silhouetting the smoke on the breeze All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine Smolensk and Viasma soon fell By autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel Closer and closer to Moscow they come Riding the wind like a bell General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill Winter brought with her the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground while the sky filled with snow And all that I ever Was able to see The fire in the air glowing red Silhouetting the snow on the breeze In the footsteps of Napoleon the shadow figures stagger through the winter Falling back before the gates of Moscow, standing in the wings like an avenger And far away behind their lines the partisans are stirring in the forest Coming unexpectedly upon their outposts, growing like a promise You'll never know, you'll never know which way to turn, which way to look you'll never see us As we're stealing through the blackness of the night You'll never know, you'll never hear us And the evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming The morning roads lead to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming Two broken Tigers on fire in the night Flicker their souls to the wind We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin It's been almost four years that I've carried a gun At home it will almost be spring The flames of the Tigers are lighting the road to Berlin Ah, quickly we move through the ruins that bow to the ground The old men and children they send out to face us, they can't slow us down And all that I ever Was able to see The eyes of the city are opening Now it's the end of the dream I'm coming home, I'm coming home, now you can taste it in the wind, the war is over And I listen to the clicking of the train-wheels as we roll across the border And now they ask me of the time that I was caught behind their lines and taken prisoner "They only held me for a day, a lucky break, " I say they turn and listen closer I'll never know, I'll never know why I was taken from the line and all the others To board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia And it's cold and damp in the transit camp, and the air is still and sullen And the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming And I wonder when I'll be home again and the morning answers "Never" And the evening sighs, and the steely Russian skies go on forever. Al Stewart live: https://youtu.be/BZdhPRPP0oM |
#47
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Al Stewart - Roads To Moscow,
The soldier was Alexander Solzhenitsyn, fabulous song, great writing, thanks for posting the lyrics. I no longer have the album regrettably. |
#48
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Quote:
"fingers and toes, fingers and toes 40 things we share" 41 if you include the fact that we dont care" and way too many lyrics from Cohen that I love as well. and from John "you fill up my senses like a night in the forest" and from lightfoot- the entire song-Early Morning Rain
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#49
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I think there's something compassionate about someone being honest about really personal and difficult stuff and putting it all out there. Leonard Cohen's Bird on a Wire and (in my estimation) Lou Reed's most personal song, Coney Island Baby spring to mind.
I rediscovered Vic Chesnutt's 'Flirted With You All My Life' recently. An ambivalent look at death by someone ambivalent about life. It gets me like almost no other lyric... 'when my mom was cancer sick, she fought but then succumbed to it. You even made her beg for it: "Lord Jesus please, I'm ready".' |
#50
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Man “the conflict overseas” kills me every time I hear this song.
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#51
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Quote:
All this time I hadn't realized the song was about Solzhenitsyn. I thought it was just some partisan kid caught up in history. Learn something new every day....as they say. Old Admirals: https://youtu.be/rvtLRlbR34g |
#52
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The preacher man says it's the end of time
And the Mississippi River, she's a-goin' dry The interest is up and the stock market's down And you only get mugged if you go downtown I live back in the woods you see My woman and the kids and the dogs and me I got a shotgun, a rifle and a four-wheel drive And a country boy can survive Country folks can survive I can plow a field all day long I can catch catfish from dusk 'til dawn (Yeah) We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too Ain't too many things these old boys can't do We grow good-ole tomatoes and homemade wine And a country boy can survive Country folks can survive Because you can't starve us out and you can't make us run 'Cause we're them old boys raised on shotguns We say grace, and we say ma'am If you ain't into that, we don't give a **** We came from the West Virginia coal mines And the Rocky Mountains, and the western skies And we can skin a buck, we can run a trot line And a country boy can survive Country folks can survive I had a good friend in New York City He never called me by my name, just Hillbilly My grandpa taught me how to live off the land And his taught him to be a businessman He used to send me pictures of the Broadway nights And I'd send him some homemade wine But he was killed by a man with a switchblade knife For 43 dollars, my friend lost his life I'd love to spit some Beech-Nut in that dude's eyes And shoot him with my old .45 'Cause a country boy can survive Country folks can survive 'Cause you can't starve us out and you can't make us run 'Cause we're them old boys raised on shotguns We say grace, and we say ma'am If you ain't into that, we don't give a **** We're from North California and South Alabam' And little towns all around this land And we can skin a buck, and run a trotline And a country boy can survive Country folks can survive A country boy can survive Country folks can survive |
#53
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Corb Lund - Old Men (acoustic version if your familiar)
When it comes to fixing fence, riding bulls and drinking beer Give me some young buckaroo, who's kind of wet behind the ears 'Cuz I'll take fire in the belly, and if he's a little green Well sometimes piss and vinegar is exactly what you need But I want old men making my whiskey I want old men singing my blues I want old men teaching my horses 'Cuz there's just some things, young men can't do Like the old boys do I want some scrappy kid To have my back, in the middle of a bar room fight And a little youth to kind of help Sometimes, with the girls on Friday night When I was but a young man, I was wild and full of fire Acid trips and rocker chicks, well I'm lucky I'm alive I want old men making my whiskey I want old men singing my blues I want old men teaching my horses There're just some things, young men can't do Like the old boys do Old men making my whiskey Old men singing me blues Old men educating my horses 'Cuz there's just some things, young men can't do Like them old boys do |
#54
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Nobody knows where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald |
#55
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Quote:
I'm listening on YT right now. Thanks for posting. |
#56
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"Does anyone know"....instead of "Nobody knows"...
__________________
Acoustics: Yamaha FG800 Vintage; Epi PR-150 Natural, Martin Backpacker, Electrics: Epi Les Paul PlusTop Pro Heritage Cherry Burst; Epi ES-335 Cherry Amps: Vox AC10C1, Vox Pathfinder, PG Spark 40 Pedalboard: EB Volume->Tuner->Gate->Soul Food->HoF->Looper "Let there be songs, to fill the air" |
#57
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Quote:
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#58
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A lot of my favorites mentioned already. Some inexplicably left out singwriters:
Guy Clark - The Cape, Maybe I Can Paint Over That Steve Earle - Fort Worth Blues is the greatest song ever written about Townes Van Zandt (according to me and Guy Clark) Kurt Fortmeyer - My Dog Jesus Lucinda Williams - Drunken Angel, Lonely Girls, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road Gilian Welch - Orphan Girl Eric Taylor - Happy Endings, The Great Divide Neil Young - Thrasher, Powderfinger Ian Tyson - Summer Wages To name just a few. |
#59
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How could I forget Kris Kristofferson? Some of the greatest lyrics ever:
Sunday Morning Coming Down Loving Her Was Easier Help Me Make it Through the Night And although done to death, massacred, dismembered, buried, exhumed and reanimated by tone deaf karaoke singers and open-micers for Decades, Me and Bobby McGee. And quite possibly the most murdered by covers tune by Steve Goodman, City of New Orleans. Stil great lyrics. |
#60
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Quote:
On a morning in November you were blinded by the sun In your place that makes you feel so safe from everyone You're totally oblivious to the rampant poverty Not affected by the millions that you don't see And so we toast to opportunity and talk about the weather Although we never look each other in the eye We are paranoid and out of step with every word that we just said We all sound completely crazy and no one can lie down in their own bed In a moment you will tell us of your own personal hell I'm starting to believe that everyone is for themselves We really don't have an eternity to make our dreams come true But thinking for tomorrow isn't in you On my way down to the city I was looking out the window At some point you learned to look the other way We're so desperate that it's dangerous, we basically have lost our heads Responsible for nothing but taking credit where ever we can (Particularly love those lines) And so we live under the garden where we can hide And not smell the dregs of earth Beneath the sun of the same planet, inherit wealth, inherit dirt Last edited by Bushleague; 11-27-2021 at 11:08 PM. |