Straight Line

If my body could talk it would say to you,
"Take a piece of the ground that I'm going through,
pick it up in the heel of your loving hand,
with a touch of your fingers help me understand."

And I'm walking that field in a straight line,
walking out where the grass is tall and dry.
Yes I'm walking that field in a straight line,
and I'm walking the ground with my hands held high.

If my body could talk it would open up,
take a drink of the water from your loving cup,
pick it up, pour it out where the well is dry,
pour it out in a circle underneath the sky.

And I'm plowing that field in a straight line,
plowing down where the rocks are cold and dry.
Yes I'm plowing that field in a straight line,
and I'm planting my seeds on the winds of change.
Winds of change, the winds of change.

Winds of change, Earth is singing.
Feel my feet, hands are bringing my body back to me.
My body back to me, my body back to me.

If my body could talk it would tell a soul,
break it down into simple terms and make it whole.

And I'm walking that field in a straight line,
walking out where the grass is tall and dry.
Yes I'm walking that field in a straight line,
and I'm planting my seeds on the winds of chage.

Winds of change, Earth is singing.
Feel my feet, hands are bringing my body back to me.
My body back to me, my body back to me.

(Words and music 1992 Bruce Haedt, original recording

2002 on Bainbridge Island, WA, Eddie Jay Williams engineer)

Clay Slip

Clay slip dawning on me
Virtue cabin vested interest to reply
Turn the knocking into your song on the door we broke down

It was only a matter of time
Something sacred in the hallway
The comb in your hair falling
Now the resting is so simple taken over like a child

It was the body that we never shared
It was the collarbone of Jesus
Who would believe it could be so mundane to sleep the night away just dreaming

I heard the rocks descend to water
Goblets broken by the fireside
Laughter-tears out on the road, that touch will always be remembered

The way you looked over your shoulder
Accomplished much of what the gold rush bailed
Where is the watchtower, the shoreline, the body that we now remove
to follow all away?

It was only a matter of time
Something sacred in the hallway
The comb in your hair falling
Now the resting is so simple taken over like a child

Clay slip dawning on me.

(Lyrics and music 2003 by Bruce Haedt. Original tracks recorded in Auburn, WA 2004)

Parson

Parson stranded on a dark road, bible strung over his shoulder.
Muddy boots, cares for laces up the back.
Remembering the play of light, shoulders to bite or kiss and say goodbye.

God, god is wasted. Far, far away my home.
Home is selfish tears.

Parson watching the moon, leaning on the fence.
bats chasing gnats, stockings roll down his mind.
Regretting... not really, corner turned to road less traveled.
Something else spills from his morning word.

God, god is wasted. Far, far away my home.
Home is selfish tears.

Parson walking into town, new streets to kiss with prayer.
A few belongings, a letter, a sleeve of lace.
Eyes follow him and he returns a smile, some hollow need that keeps returning.
Lord of kindness guides his hand.

God, god is wasted. Far, far away my home.
Home is selfish tears.

Parson walking into town...

(words and music by Bruce 2003, written and first recording in Suquamish, WA
Additional tracks and remastering 2015)

Before and After

Perhaps your loss is given to those who listen for a sign.

In a recent conversation I detected my own confusion
coming up like waves and crashing into time that we
could have spent resolving what we're after.

Before and after, before and after.
I am catching up the bluebird, the bluebird of disaster
before and after, before and after.

I know I can be stronger, just like a willow bending.

The wind is beautiful with force and gale, it keeps me blending
conversation wilds. I am catching up the bluebird, the bluebird of disaster.

Before and after, before and after.
I am catching up the bluebird, the bluebird of disaster
before and after, before and after.

(music and lyrics 1995 by Bruce Haedt. Recording from 2002 and 2015 to be released as track 1 on "Almost Lost in Auburn" in September 2015.)

Almost Lost in Auburn

For the next few weeks I'll be posting lyrics from the upcoming album "Almost Lost in Auburn", release date planned for mid-September 2015. Initial tracks were recorded in Eddie's studio on Bainbridge Island or my home studio in Auburn, WA between January 2002 and January 2005.

Additional vocal and instrumental tracks were added last year and will be completed this summer with Georgia Browne, who composed several of the songs on the album. We had a meeting last night to discuss timing and process.

Options are still being considered for album artwork, but thinking something stark and lonely looking as there is a lot of that energy in the music.