LITTLE MOVIES

VOICE FROM AFAR

If you’ve been true to every one but yourself
Set your course toward the dreams of someone else
Should you decide to see who you were meant to be
There’s a part of you that knows just where to turn
 
CHORUS
It’s a voice from afar that tells you where you are
As true to the traveler as the northern star
It won’t talk loud to be heard but listen to every word
You’ll find that it’s coming from your heart
Like a voice from afar
 
The compass spins round and round you’ve lost your bearings
The sails are torn the wind’s too loud for you to hear
Go where it’s calm down below trust the part of you that knows
That you could find your way with your eyes closed
 
CHORUS
 
You’ll see not once were you alone
As you search for what you’ve always known
 
CHORUS
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
Jon Wikstrom, Ironic Juxtoposition Music, ASCAP
Judy Massa

 

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Mondays Come Too Soon

I’ll pick you up at three o’clock I swear I’ll be on time
If we leave town before the rush we can make the beach by nine
Dreaming of the weekend is all that gets me through
Oh Fridays take forever and Mondays come too soon
 
Saturday we’ll wake the sun build castles in the sand
We’ll tempt the gulls to come and take the bread right from our hands
Then we’ll build a driftwood fire stay up and ask the moon
Why Fridays take forever and Mondays come too soon
 
How I wish that I could see you every day
But when moms and dads fall out of love
Sometimes it’s not that way
 
Sunday morning we’ll go out and look for one last shell
Something you can take back home and have for show and tell
And I’ll be back at work again with this clock that hardly moves
Thinking Fridays take forever and Mondays come too soon
Oh, Fridays take forever and Mondays come too soon
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
Jon Wikstrom, Ironic Juxtaposition Music, ASCAP
Tim Bays, In Cahoots Music, ASCAP

 

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DEAD EGYPTIAN BLUES

 

Oh Mr Tut what good’s it do
They love your chair but nobody cares for you
Egyptian nights were never colder
And all your friends are thousands of years older
What ever happened to that gang down by the sphinx
Seems they’re only forty winks away
Those girls from Cairo with their belly button jewels
Made you play the fool yesterday
And now you keep in shape with Elmer’s glue
Cause you’re all wrapped up in those dead Egyptian blues
 
Oh Mr Tut they love the mask
Do they love it honey sweetheart don’t ask
And where’s those baby browns and pearly smile
That smile that drove ‘em wild on the early Nile
You make one terrific heiroglyphics don’t you bro
Centuries of standing sideways turned you to a pro
And those girls from Cairo that filled your heart with lust
They’ve all turned to dust yesterday
And those bandages don’t do much for you
Cause you’re all wrapped up in those dead Egyptian blues
 
Oh Mr Tut they love the tomb
Yeah all that gold leaf brightens up a room
So what’s the diff when your stiff
What riff you’re playing
When your ears have spent 5000 years decaying
What does it matter what possessions you may boast
When you’re just a ghost it’s only jive Clive
Your sarcophagus is glowing
But your esophagus is showing
Who cares how rich you are love
When you look like Boris Karloff
Call Nautilus they might refund your dues
Cause you’re all wrapped up in those dead Egyptian blues
 
Oh Mr Tut just wait and see
Another few thousand years
They’re gonna dig up me
And I’ll have all my little treasures near at hand
A CD of Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
A little Maui wowie all crumbled in a bong
A letter from my honey saying
Miss you kid so long
Some peanut butter sandwiches
That have long returned to sand
Not much gold and silver but
I think that you will understand
That in my way I’ll be a lot like you
All wrapped up in those dead Egyptian blues
 
Michael Peter Smith, Bird Avenue Publishing, ASCAP
 
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YOU MIGHT TAKE IT RIGHT

 
Each time your eyes look in my eyes
The rest of the world goes away
You say hello and I don’t know my own name
You smile and then take my hand
But I hold it just a little too tight
If I don’t watch what I’m doing
You might take it right
 
I can’t explain why I feel this way
It’s like I’ve known you before
My head says I’m crazy
But my heart knows I’m helpless
From wanting you more
 
I’m not the kind to play the fool
Or believe in love at first sight
If I don’t watch what I’m doing
You might take it right
 
The music plays and we embrace
Please let this dance last all night
If I don’t watch what I’m doing
You might take it right
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
 
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MOTHER EARTH BLUES

 
Now listen here kids
I’ve been watching your behavior and I’m not amused
You act like you own the planet but I think you’re confused
You weren’t even in diapers when I saw her
Give the dinosaurs their walking shoes
Take it from Father Time Mother Earth has got the blues
 
You dumped crude in the ocean stripped the jungle of its trees
Punched a hole in the ozone drove the animals to their knees
I’ve not seen her this upset since maybe the deluge
Take it from Father Time Mother Earth has got the blues
 
You want more beachfront property this can be arranged
How about a nice long stretch
At the foot of the Rocky Mountain range
Weather getting too warm afraid of a drought
Maybe a new ice age would help chill things out
You’re laughing - you think she wouldn’t treat you that way
Seems like I heard that once before back in old Pompeii
 
For the last hundred years I’ve heard every excuse
But what we’ve got here is a case of planet abuse
You better come to your senses you’ve got everything to lose
Take it from Father Time Mother Earth has got the blues
 
You’ve got everything to gain and everything to lose
Take it from Father Time Mother Earth has got the blues
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
Jon Wikstrom, Ironic Juxtaposition Music, ASCAP
 
 
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WISHING YOU WERE HERE

 
I took a stroll watched the breakers roll
Down by the old stone pier
Passed the shipwreck shop where we always stop
To look for souvenirs
That Jamaican man with the steel drum band
Still plays our favorite song
Remember how we danced and sang along
 
As the sea and sun melt into one
And the stars appear
I’m missing you wishing you were here
 
It’s late and I need to close my eyes
And try and get some sleep
But first I’ll go to the shore and throw
This letter out to sea
And I’ll ask the wind to explain again
How life can just go on
And how to make my heart believe you’re gone
 
The pale moon slides down the sky a sliver tear
I’m missing you wishing you were here
I’m missing you wishing you were here
 
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
Jon Wikstrom, Ironic Juxtaposition Music, ASCAP
 
 
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DREAM ON

 
Just a dirt farmer’s daughter
Picking cotton with torn up hands
Nine years old working the fields like a man
Dawn till dusk no time to play
Dreaming a dream all day
On a stage singing with a country band
She’d say “Don’t worry daddy it’ll be OK
I’m gonna be a big star someday”
He’d shake his head and say
CHORUS
Dream on baby dream on
Wish for anything you want
You can have it for a song
Dream on baby dream on
 
Five years married by the time she was twenty-two
Raising three little babies in a shack
Where the cold wind blew
She’d lie awake while her husband slept
Dreaming the dream she kept
Her name in lights, satin gown, fancy shoes
She’d say “Honey get me out of this place
I’ve got to try before it’s too late"
He’d shake his head and say
 
CHORUS
 
He said stay but she had to go
So she packed the kids and hit the road
Set out to make it on her own
The years flew the seasons rolled
Then late one night he was driving home
When he heard her singing on the radio
He shook his head as she sang
 
CHORUS
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
Jon Wikstrom, Ironic Juxtaposition Music, ASCAP
 
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THE GIG FROM HELL

The year that I turned 25 - I was playing in a band
A swinging little combo that traveled cross the land
We sang at clubs and festivals bar mitzvahs and birthdays
We played original music and most times we got paid
 
One day about the crack of noon
A ringing roused me from my sleep
“I’d like to book the band”
The voice on the phone did speak
“We have a little festival three months from now in May
We’d like to have some music – would you like
to come and play “
 
“What kind of festival “ I asked as I wiped sleep from my eyes
“It is a 4 wheel rally” the voice quickly replied
“We love to race our monster trucks up and down
the hills all day – at night we’d like to party
to the music that you play”
 
I said “We are artists, we create our own songs
Why not hire a cover band this just seems all wrong “
He said “Three thousand dollars we are prepared to pay”
I said “What is your address I’ll get the contracts out today”
 
Finally the day arrived and we loaded up the van
Lights, PA, instruments, 4 musicians, one soundman
We traveled for hours as the directions showed
Till we ran out of interstate, 2 lanes, and country roads
 
When we reached our destination a sign pointed the way
Welcome 4 wheel rally happening today
An arrow pointed to the trail that led down to the show
Less suited for a music van, more for a mountain goat
 
At the bottom of a holler in a sea of mud
Like Noah’s ark seem to float a stage made out of wood
For it had been raining 3 days and it did flood
We looked at each other and said “This can’t be good”
 
But we set up our equipment all except for Steve
He was our lead guitar player and he did moan and grieve
For a mighty hangover, queezy stomach and a cough
And for last night’s party and the brain cells he had lost
 
He held his head in his hands and said a little prayer
“Thank God it can’t get any worse”
God whispered “Oh contraire”
For about that time a monster truck with tires as tall as men
Revved up its mighty engines and its wheels began to spin
 
The smoke did spew and the mud did fly from 50 yards away
And like a guided missile a glob of slime and clay
Headed straight for Steve’s position as I whispered “No way”
But it was if God had said “Go ahead and make my day”
 
That night we played our songs but to no applause
The mud was too deep except for pigs and frogs
So in their monster trucks they sat a hundred yards away
And blinked their lights and honked their horns
After each song that we would play
 
So all you young musicians come heed my advice
Don’t do it for gold records, screaming fans and limo rides
Do it for the love of music then when things go wrong
You can even take the gig from hell and write it in a song
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
 
 
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I THOUGHT HIS NAME WAS COACH

 
I can till see that old pickup bouncing through the gate
Full of bats and baseballs we could hardly wait
He’d honk his horn and like a swarm we were off in nothing flat
To change that field into a diamond just like that
 
He’d swap his business hat for a baseball cap
His briefcase for a mitt his ballpoint for a bat
Then he’d gather us round him and quicker than a dream
He’d turn that bunch of boys into a baseball team
 
CHORUS
He taught us how to hit a curve ball how to turn a double play
How to win with style and how to lose with grace
He’d stand out on the dugout steps and whistle n’ crow
“Atta boy red head, way to go”
 
Now his shoulders were stooped and there were lines on his face
Hell, without his glasses he couldn’t see second base
But he said some things that took me years to understand
I thought his name was Coach and I loved that man
 
CHORUS
 
Now 20 years had come and gone the day the letter came
With a clipping from the paper that he had passed away
And though I had not seen him since that summer long ago
I turned my head and cried like I was nine years old
 
CHORUS
 
I can still see that old pickup bouncing through the gate
Full of bats and baseballs we could hardly wait
 
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
 
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Wires and Wood

When the work is all done at the end of the day
I sit on the porch and open my case
I pick out a tune that matches my mood
And pour it all out through wires and wood
 
CHORUS
Wires and wood and a feeling to share
Straight from the heart, out in the air
Friends gather round, everybody feels good
When the spirit is singing through wires and wood
If I had the money if I had my say
I’d just sit right here and make music all day
It lifts up my mind runs deep in my blood
When I lay my hands on wires and wood
 
CHORUS
Ron Sowell, Story Circle Music, BMI
Jon Wikstrom, Ironic Juxtaposition Music, ASCAP
John Van Meter, Sony/ATV Cross Keys Publishing, ASCAP
Tim Bays, Sony/ATV Cross Keys Publishing, ASCAP
 
 
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Hell, I'd Go!

 
Hell, I'd go
If they came down and got me
They could be little green men
That wouldn't stop me
Buzzin' through the galaxy
Who could beat a ride for free?
 
For all I know I'm just the perfect fellow
Not too white, not too yellow
Get me on that big space ship
This could be my hippest trip!
 
Hey you, UFO guy
Put me first on standby
I'm traveling light, my attitude's right
 
I've seen that night
Don't call me crazy
They were in the sky
Lookin' quite amazin'
Doin' figure 8s around the moon
Why’d they have to leave so soon
 
Count me in
I ain't no hesitater
I'll jump right aboard
And write home later
Say: "How’re all you folks at home?
I just got the bug to roam!"
 
Hey you, UFO guy
How you make that thing fly?
Say, I won't tell, I won't say a thing
 
Pluto, Saturn
Aurora Borealis
We'll hit 'em all
We'll land in Dallas
There'll be a big parade for me
I'll make the news, just wait and see
 
Hey you, skinny space man
Can't you see that I'm on the lam?
Come on, you flyin' saucer
Won’t you make me an offer
I’ll book the flight the time is right
 
Dan Hicks, Great Guns Publishing, ASCAP
 
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