www.paul-simon.info 
The neck of my Guitar

Forum Mainpage

Start a new Thread

Bottom


HeadlineSeven Pslams lyrics

Page: [1]

AuthorComment

James
May-20-2023, 00:11 GMT
South Africa


Send private message

I wrote the lyrics down as I was listening to it this morning. I’ll have to compare them to lyrics in the cd booklet when I get home (it’s arrived, waiting for me there) and see if I’ve made an mistakes. Still, I thought this may be helpful to those listening to it on streaming.



I’ve been thinking about the great migration.
Noon and night, they leave the flock.
And I imagine their destination.
Meadow grass.
Jagged rocks.

The lord is my engineer. The lord is the earth I ride on. The lord is the face in the atmosphere.
The path I slip and slide on.
Tru loo loo loo lu.

The crystal comet. Starlit night.
Silver moon smooths the edge of daylight.
Now it turned evening rose. Tribal voices.
Old and young. Celebrations.
A history of family sung.
The endless river flows.

The lord is my engineer. The lord is the earth I ride on. The lord is the face in the atmosphere.
The path I slip and slide on.
The lord is a virgin forest. The lord is a forest ranger. The lord is a meal for the poorest of the poor. A welcomed door to the stranger.

Tears and flowers, dry over time.
Memory leave us melody and rhymes.

When the cold wind blows, the seeds we gather from the gardener’s glove. Live forever, nothing dies from too much love.

The lord, the lord is the earth I ride on. The lord’s the face in the atmosphere.
The path I slip and I slide on.
The lord a virgin forest. The lord is a forest ranger. The lord is a meal for the poorest. A welcomed door to the stranger.

Covid virus is the lord. The lord is the ocean rising.
The lord is terrible swift sword. A simple truth surviving.

Love is like a braid, some say. And I, I don’t disbelieve it.
Cowrie shelves, fine combs made of jade.
To ornament and weave it.

I lived a life of pleasant sorrows, until the real deal came. Broke me like a twig in a winter gale. Called me by my name.
And in that time of prayer and waiting. Where doubt and reason dwell. A jury sat, deliberating.
All is lost or all is well.

Home, home. Sun on my doorstep. Shocks me to find I’m a child again entwined.
In your love. In your light. In your cool summer shade.
The garden keeps a rose and a thorn
and once the choice is made.
All that’s left, is mending what was torn.
Love is like a braid. Love is like a braid.

Good morning Mister Indignation!
Looks like you haven’t slept all night,
in my professional opinion,
go back to bed and turn off your light.

I’m not a doctor or a preacher. But I know, particular guiding star,
in my professional opinion,
I’m no more satisfied then you are.

So what in the world are we whispering for.
Everyone’s naked, there’s nothing to hide.

Gonna carry my grievances down to the shore.
Wash them away in the tumbling tide.

I heard two cows in a conversation. The one called the other a name.
In my professional opinion,
All cows in the country must bear the blame.

So all rise to the occasion,
or all sinking to despair.
In my professional opinion,
we’re better off not going there.

What in the world are we whispering for?
Everyone’s naked, there’s nothing to hide.

Gonna carry my grievances down to the shore.
Wash ‘em away in the tumbling tide.
Wash ‘em way in the tumbling tide.
Wash ‘em away in the tide.

All that really matters,
is the one who became us,
Anointed and gained us,
with his opinion.

The lord is my engineer. The lord is the earth I ride on. The lord is the face in the atmosphere.
The path I slip and slide on.
The lord a virgin forest. The lord is a forest ranger. The lord is a meal for the poorest of the poor. A welcomed door to the stranger.

The Covid virus is the lord. The lord is the ocean rising.
The lord is a terrible swift sword. A simple truth surviving.

Yesterday’s boy is gone. Driving through darkness searching for your forgiveness.

His sorrow, a beautiful song, lives in the heart and sings for all your forgiveness.

Inside the digital mind, a homeless soul ponders the code of forgiveness.

And I, the last in the line, hoping the gates won’t be closed, before your forgiveness.

Dip your hand in heaven’s waters,
god’s imagination.
Dip your hand in heaven’s waters.
All of life’s abundance in a drop of condensation.
Dip your hand in heaven’s waters.

I, I have my reasons to doubt.
There is a case to be made.
Two billion heart beats and out.
Waving the flag in the last parade.
I have my reasons to doubt.

Dip your hand in heaven’s waters,
god’s imagination.
Dip your hand in heaven’s waters.
All of life’s abundance in a drop of condensation.
Dip your hand in heaven’s waters.

I, I have my reasons to doubt.
A white light, eases the pain.
Two billion heart beats and out,
or does it all begin again?

Dip your hand in heaven’s waters,
god’s imagination.
All of life’s abundance in a drop of condensation.

When I was young, I carried my guitar down to the crossroads and over the seas.
Now those old roads are a trail of volcanoes
Exploding with refugees.

It seems to me,
we’re all walking down the same road…to wherever it ends.
The pity is,
the damage that’s done,
leaves so little time for amends

A change of mood.
A summer storm erased the sunny sky.
Two hapless hitchhikers were signaling us as we were cruising by.
Not in the mood,
for idle chat or hitchhike company.
Nevertheless,
we took them on as highway curtesy.

Hurry! Get yourselves inside the truck. We’re just going up aways.
The rain should turn to mist with any luck and you can find a place to stay.

The woman spoke,
her voice a blend of regional perfumes.

“We have no destination, the moon and stars provide us with our rooms”

“My boy and me. We’re refugees of sorts from my hometown. They don’t like different there.
They would have mowed us down”

“He doesn’t talk much anymore. Just to the voices in his head”

The boy just gazed down at the floor,
and nodded once or twice at what she said.

The sacred harp,
that David played to make his songs of praise.
We long to hear those strings that set his heart ablaze.

The ringing strings. The thought that god turns music into bliss.
We left the pickup in the driveway.
The moon appeared as amber in the mist

The lord is a puff of smoke,
that disappears when the winds blow.
The lord is my personal joke,
my reflection in the window.
I’ve been thinking about our tribal nature. Our benediction and our curse.
Are we all just trial and error? One of a billion in the universe?

The lord is my engineer.
The lord is my record producer.
The lord is the music I hear.
Deep in the valley, elusive.
The lord is my engineer.
The lord is the train I ride on.
The lord is the coast. The coast is clear.
The path I slip and I slide on.

Wait! I’m not ready. I’m just packing my gear.
Wait! My hands steady. My mind is still clear.
I hear the ghost songs I owned,
jumpin’, jivin’ and moanin’
Through a heart broken microphone.
Wait!

Life is a meteor. Let your eyes run. Heaven is beautiful. It’s almost like home. Children get ready, it’s time to come home.

I want to, believe in a dreamless transition.
Wait! I don’t want to be near the dark intuition.

I need you here by my side.
My beautiful mystery guide.
Wait!

Life is a meteor. Let your eyes run. Heaven is beautiful. It’s almost like home. Children get ready, it’s time to come home.

Amen.




Use SEND to share on Facebook or A.M.P.S


  [Like] [Reply] - [Readers: 235 ]

Brenda
May-20-2023, 01:22 GMT
USA - United Staates America


Send private message

Thank you so much James. A few of the words I was finding a little difficult to make out . will be great to listen again woth the words at hand !

  [Like] [Reply] - [Readers: 228 ]

Page: [1]

Forum Mainpage

Start a new Thread

Top