lyrics

lyrics

Journey Before Time
Lyrics to Pretend It Never Happened

Let’s Pretend It Never Happened

Lyrics and Music by Bobby Angel, his pre-drainage Everglades Song, Spring 2021

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams The Lake is bursting at its seams Going south in a skiff with Hugh Willoughby Through a wall of sawgrass thick as can be Until at the edge finally we break free Into a maze of braids an unending freshwater sea On my face the good feel of a sunny breeze And in the distance tiny islands of trees Below pumping up a subterranean freshet Teeming with fish, alligators and flocks of egrets And then we get swept west into the Big Cypress Towering trees all around like looking up at a cliff An ivorybilled woodpecker landing on a branch Underneath the shaded grove with many orchids And finally to the mangroves where saltwater I sniff When around turns Hugh to suddenly interrupt To say nothing is real it’s time to wake up

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams A wanted poster on the wall offering a big reward Wanted dead or alive, the new outlaw An scourge to paradise, it’s only flaw And so began the hunt for water Disston with his dredge he blew up the falls And tore into her marsh with his iron claws To drain it away at any cost With no concern or care for what might be lost Or anything other than greed might be served Turn the Garden of Eden into a trucking farm Nature would succumb and soon enough learn Draining it so hard it all started to burn The flame and the smoke filling sky at every turn Until we came to a ghostly face filling the air It was Disston saying welcome to my nightmare

Listen to the song and interview (after song)

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams First came the waves and then came the storm Awakening the Lake and causing it to roar Sending its water over the levee in a big waterfall Flooding many people across the southern shore A nation aimed at settling the score By defeating water and declaring war And so they sent in the the Army Corp To box it in this time for sure Control the water with concrete doors So when it rains it no longer pours Pave over the coast with more and more Until there’s nothing left to do just stay indoors Nature left hanging on life support As tourists click their drinks in a big beach resort That’s when I close my eyes and I hear a shout It’s Hugh on his skiff telling me its time to go back out

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams First thing we did was rip out the gates And let the water flow back to its natural state And slowly start to fill back the lake And overflow back into glades Forming new channels in the shape of a maze With all the animals returning as if to give praise After losing every battle turning a new page Welcoming in a new geologic age The clouds formed up in the sky Sending new water down from up high New springs forming down below So many new places for the water to go How did we even do it, we didn’t know Other than it was an incredible show We sat and watched content as could be Nature completely restored a sanctuary When something startled me and I opened my eyes A dim light in the distance a new sunrise

Pretend It Never Happened is the opening song (on Side A) of Bobby Angel’s album Listen to Big Cypress Bound (2022)

Lyrics to Stuck

Stuck Inside of Oasis

A farewell song to Rudi Heinrich Words and music by Bobby Angel Live at the The Brass Tap July 27, 2019

Gators are splashing wildly down the end of the boardwalk I try to see what the problem is but a tourist stops me to talk. And the visitors politely ask me questions that can’t seem to wait, like “Do you keep those alligators in a cage?” to which I answer “No ma’am it’s me that can’t escape”

Oh, Joe Lord, can this really be the end to be stuck inside of Oasis with the cypress blues again

Well Campfire Charlie he’s up at the Alley, not too far from the Florida Trail speaking to wildcat geologist about some old abandoned wells.“ Just two miles down” says the wildcatter, “Is the age when the dinosaurs played” to which Charlie responds, “yes I fondly remember those days.”

Oh Guy Bradley can this really be the end, to be stuck inside of an old gas station with the cypress blues again

Airboaters glide south to Coconuts, buggies north to Calstones, while I’m stuck behind the front desk answering a landline phone. So me I sit so patiently, opening the cash register for change. The people are all from so many different places, but my job’s always the same

Oh, Sig Walker, can this really be the end to be stuck inside a glass cube with stuffed panther and the cypress blues again.

“Nobody owns the water man,” I heard that said before, if they gave me the keys to the kingdom I’d open up the water doors. And so I posted a message on the old social media line that went viral with a thousand nasty comments, maybe I’ll just post a photo of a bird the next time

Oh shit, I somehow did it again, all the while being stuck inside of the VC with the cypress blues again.

The skunk ape gave me two tips for living off the land: One was to lather up with Ochopee mosquitoes the other was to double fist water moccasins in both hands. And like a fool they bit me and it jumbled up my mind.  Now the decades are all out of order which as a historian actually suites me fine

Oh, Joe Browder, can this really be the end, to be stuck inside an old hangar with the cypress blues again

The senator came down here to let everyone to kiss his ring and posing for a few group photo after a speech that promises everything. After all the confetti had fallen, and wouldn’t it be Rudi’s fate, to have been caught without a flat hat and not even get a piece of cake

Oh Art Marshall is this really the end, to be stuck around a bunch of dollar knickknacks with the cypress blues again

All the books upstairs in the Library, I’ve read them all twice or more, once for the information and the other times ‘cause I was bored. Yes, Reynold’s Sawmill Mill may look like ruins and Monroe Station burned the floor, but me I can see them so clearly just like in the good old days of yore

Oh Cap’n Turner can this really be the end to be stuck at the air conditioning with the cypress blues again

Five years passes in Orlando so Rudi returns to say hello.  The cypress trees look the same, but most of the faces he no longer knows. And so he cried a tear that soaked deep into the peat and turned into sheet flow of understanding that the march of time is a one way street

Oh mama, no, it wasn’t the end and I miss being stuck Oasis, those were some of the best days I ever had!

Listen to the Stuck Inside of Oasis

Wetland sharks

Jaws of the Glades

A farewell Song to Laurie Humphrey

Words and music by Bobby Angel

February 26, 2021

She used to work in the Everglades and always knew how to play the game whenever they asked and wanted to know she told them the Everglades were the only show but then one time she finally got fed up when she scooped the water up in cup to find it filled with all sorts of nasty stuff

That’s when she ran off and escaped to the Big Cypress Swamp a place that has everything you could ever want and forever more and ever since on the west side of a hill they call the L28 fence and now she feels free whenever a visitor has an inquiry she says it’s easy to see it’s shadier under the trees

If you like concrete and gates then the Everglades is your place 0r bureaucratic malaise again I recommend the Everglades or sawgrass that bites like a shark I point you in the direction of Everglades Park

Inside a dome that’s the place I call home water up to my knees and no entrance fees gators a grumbling and storm clouds a thundering and mosquitoes singing in my ears I promise really there’s nothing to fear

The Everglades was just a phase I really don’t get the whole craze I’d rather be the cypress maze away from the east coast smokey haze to catch the twilights last shadowy rays and fall to my knees to give them prays and then stare up into the pitch black night just me and the twinkling pinpricks of light

Its where you end not where you start that floods the love into your heart it’s where you end not where you start which is why the Big Cypress will always beat on in my heart

Gunpowder and reservoir

Pretty Boy and the Gunpowder

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

January 2, 2022

Your gunpowder didn’t blow And so went on your way Past the trail where the train once ran Beside a bridge that’s washed away Weren’t you the next big thing As guaranteed as anything And now look at you today Ruins overrun

Such a pretty boy you were Born in Jerusalem Spinning water at your wheel Into rifles for the coming war Outfitting old Henry’s fort Farther down the Locust Point Where cannons kept the ships at bay And sent them in retreat

High above the eagles soared As bulldozers built the wall For pretty boy to fill its banks To divert it all to city streets An edict of the ruling crown And so you laid your rifle down Surrender your powder To the dreams of gasoline

Over time you silted in And so your dreams slipped away A blessing now looking back How so little things ever changed Farther up he won it all Only somehow to lose Pretty Boy only flows these days To highways of concrete

Gunpowder long since relapsed To a cascade of small rapids Other than logs holding back Waters where beavers swim at night Protected as a county park You can still go there today And listen to a bluegrass play Or walk the covered bridge

Life is good on the old rail trail Long after they all moved away It’s waters never slowed On their steady fall into the bay Pretty boy doesn’t have much to say He just keeps it all inside From a flooded Paper Mill To the Mason Dixon Line

A medley to remember

Her and There

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Maybe you saw me maybe you didn’t the best part of life is always hidden you and me we’ll find that treasure take it to a higher level you and me we’ll never settle check it out check it out check it out we’ll be flying we’ll be rising over top of the horizon past the pain and all the dying finally we are arriving we are there we are there yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

I met her at the picnic table a cup of coffee in her hand she told me we couldn’t stay there so we went walking in the sand surf splashing at our ankles eventually we made the pier where she turned and told me one more step and we are there

Above the clouds passing by thirty five thousand feet up in the sky you know I think about you all of the time you’re always there up in my mind

Going down to the ground I wonder if you’re still around I wonder I wonder I wonder I’m a wanderer I am a plunderer I am a wrangler I am a gambler I am a rambler I am a galloper I am a guzzler I am a hustler I am a messenger and I will not stop until I find her

Has anybody been there lately has anybody been there lately has anybody been there lately and if so could you please tell me where she might me can anybody tell me

Maybe you saw me maybe you didn’t the best part of life is always hidden you and me we’ll find that treasure take it to a higher level you and me we’ll never settle check it out check it out check it out we’ll be flying we’ll be rising over top of the horizon past the pain and all the dying finally we are arriving we are there we are there yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Not getting there

Midstream

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be. Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be.

Don’t want to go to the other bank I’ve been there before so no thanks and I don’t want to return to the other shore there ain’t nothing for me there anymore. Midstream midstream there’ ain’t nothing for me there anymore. Midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream midstream.

Don’t care if I get washed away sounds better than having to stay and maybe it’s not to late to turn back the clock and regain my fate Midstream midstream there’ ain’t nothing for me there anymore. Midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream midstream.

Getting there isn’t what counts and it’s never the end when the ship goes down or maybe it is you never know it’s called learning to go with the flow. Midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream midstream.

Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be. Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be.

Feline adventure

Ballad of a Florida Panther

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Step right up I got a story to tell. It takes place in Old Florida near a wishing well. The names and places may be re-arranged. But what went down is more or less the same. It was midnight in Salt Lake when she got the fateful call about a missing footprint of a Texas Panther paw. It sounded so peculiar, she packed her bags and sent her money in for a Florida Cougar license tag. Turns out Tamiami’s too fast for our liking, gonna hafta ban all the cars and keep it to ten-speed biking, or use lots of ripple strips, you know they work just fine. Or how about painting a panther on a couple of signs.

It isn’t simple, there’s no easy plan.

First a hundred panthers, and how her.

She took The Plan deep into the woods. Panther got one look, he said – “This ain’t no good. We need a bridge that spans from here to “there, Route the traffic down around in boats, or fly it up in the air.” Whatever happened to living on the land? That got lost to development, it’s approved in The Plan. “You mean to tell me, there’s no place left to go? First they stuck me in the mud, next they’ll send us to the snow.” “Oh, you mean the glaciers? Yeah, they’re moving in, too. What once was dry land is seeping in my shoe.” “Hurry up and mix, we’ve gotta pour the plaster before that rain cloud fills the print up any faster!”

Florida is a force sort of like fate

“Would you like some raw hog head?” “No thank you I just ate.”

Bulldozers were scraping out on the ledge. They escaped inside a high rise and stood out on the ledge. Out with the pigeons, she pulled out some flossing, then rappelled their way down to a new wildlife crossing. She ran with her feet, he with his paws. They lived on the edge of society breaking all its laws. But after a while, the read the writing on the wall and climbed through a hole in the barbed wire because the fence was too tall. Senator Abstentia gave us half an ear as the crowd of screaming fans burst into tears. A tele-evangelist called it a “question of faith,” that we’ll get the “world and more,” if only we wait.

“Don’t they know, we’re a dying breed?

We need fifteen square miles just to roam free.”

They finally were rescued in a big cage in the zoo and fed lots of horse de oeuvres – and on Tuesday Cordon Blue. Then one night the wind blew something through their minds and they hopped the fence and put twenty miles behind. Where were they going? They didn’t even know. Panther cut the trail and she just went with the flow. Until all in an instant, it showed up in a flash, Panther dove into a water hole with a wad full of cash. They boarded a plane wearing fake mustaches. Border Patrol checked his ID while she did her eyelashes. They lived on an island that they called home, behind a waterfall that shined like sports car chrome. He poured a drink in the now dying sun as she stirred the straw and sipped: “It was the perfect amount of rum.” The fish were plentiful and the mist was good for her skin. All in all, it was a real win-win.

Farewell Old Florida, you’re a distant dream

Sometimes I lie awake at and wonder what it all means.

Dream revisited

Wrong Side of a Dream

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Its good to be out, but I aim to get back in. Then she walks across the floor, ain’t nothing more than I want than her, I’ll do what it takes to win. My money ain’t what it used to be but the men at the table don’t breath ’cause they know I got an ace up my sleave.

“Ma’am if you don’t mind, I got something to say. You know I’m sort of thinking out loud, but in this crowd my words won’t come. It didn’t used to be this way.”

“Promises are made, but harder yet to keep.” She said it through her lips so sweet I had to repeat it back through my mind

Wrong side of a dream, when you ain’t got nothing left. But you’ll always be what you’ll be, on the day that you left home.

The man whose brought up to want it his way, he’ll break you in two with his hand, unless there’s a plan to bring him to his knees. When I give the sign please don’t delay. We don’t need much, we’ll make it on the run, ’cause there are others who will fill his shoes and we can’t choose who they might be

“Do you believe that love can pass you by?” “They say it happens all the time, but don’t you find it sweeter that way?” “I’m never gonna let you down!” But then she frowned and I wondered why. “You didn’t think I’d leave it this way?” Then she just turned away and froze.

Wrong side of a dream, when you ain’t got nothing left. You’ll always be what you’ll be, on the day that you left home.

What was it she said stuck to the back of my mind. I couldn’t tell what she meant so I went forward anyway, and threw my cards down to the ground. The wall is written with what we don’t quite believe. I winged it all on a prayer and then I just sat and stared and cried.

Do you remember how we once saw the world? It passed us by in a blur can’t even be sure that it was even there. Or when we die we go there instead. You don’t know nothing ’til it’s all passed away. I couldn’t change if I tried so I’ve learned to lie to give it sense.

Wrong side of a dream, when you ain’t got nothing left. You’ll always be what you’ll be, on the day that you left home.

My small town

Downtown in Tivoli

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Valerie’s in the store, she’s sweeping up the kitchen. Honey stays at home, if he ain’t biting then he’s itching. Everybody’s doing whatever they’ve done before, balancing the books, evening the score. Stewart’s out back, he’s splitting wood for the winter. All he’s got is bare hands, he ain’t worried about no splinter. Somebody somewhere is reading his words, dividing by time and multiplying in thirds.

Way downtown in Tivoli, you can almost see the Hudson. The zebra mussels came and cleaned the river, so you can stop all your fussin’.

And go to Pongo, it’s a place that tends to be in between. It crunches like the apple but it tastes like the bean.

Wendolyn in her shop, she’s spinning around a kettle. Bill went off to Frisco, he had to go and prove his mettle. Nobody’s doing anything different today, standing in line, waiting for their pay. Annie’s checking out the water bill that she’ll be paying. The new republican got in, but the old guy’s still hangin’. Few words are spoken, there’s even less being said. Dinner pales are being eaten and dry mouths are getting wet.

Downstream of Tivoli, by train along the Hudson, there’s a city of ten million but up here you can hear the leaves rustlin’.

And go to Pongo, it’s a place that you’ll always find something for your stomach and something for your mind.

Buzz pulled in from out of town the other night. He’s got a bit of a dry cough I hope he’s feeling alright. Everybody keeps saying the same old think, take two of these and see what tomorrow brings. Julie left a note and she’s heading for the door. The old guy’s been good but she’s looking for something more. Many are trying but most are refused. Love letters reread. Soon she must choose.

Down there is Tivoli, “Can you see it in the valley?” Let’s hike off of this tower and get some food and beers in our bellies.

Hobo Hero

Hobo Camp

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Hobo camp hobo camp I’m gonna build me a hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I’m gonna build me a hobo camp. Found me a good spot at the edge of town. Cleared me a path and cleared me some ground. Not to close and not too far so I can still fetch me some food from the country bar.

Hobo camp hobo camp I finally got me a hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I finally got me a hobo camp. Life in the woods it’s pretty neat. I get my water from the river and use a log for a seat. And when it rains I go under my tarp, and play me a song on my old jews harp.

Hobo camp hobo camp I’m loving life in my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I’m loving life in my hobo camp. Feels good to be away. Heaven on earth is what I say. Got no problems don’t pay rent. Feels like a castle but looks like a tent.

Hobo camp hobo camp life is simple in my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp life is simple in my hobo camp. Who’s gonna say the woods aren’t mine? A homesteader earns a right with time. At least that’s what I tell myself knowing it all belongs to somebody else.

Hobo camp hobo camp I don’t own my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I don’t own my hobo camp. One day I was walking all alone, when I saw a row of orange cones, and off in the distance I heard a sound. Bulldozers knocking my forest down.

Hobo camp hobo camp hobo camp I’m gonna save my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I’m gonna save my hobo camp. Snuck up to them in the middle of the night. Poured sand in the tank and slashed the tires with my knife. Somebody had to protect the woods, just doing like I was raised like I knew I should.

Hobo camp hobo camp I slept well in my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I slept well in my hobo camp. Next day I was woke up by the law. Had lots of questions about what I saw. I told them I didn’t see a thing, but it didn’t stop them from throwing me in the clink.

Hobo camp hobo camp they took me away from my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp they took me away from my hobo camp. The judge he threw his hammer down and sentenced me to a cell in town. Been here now for about four weeks. Three meals a day and the roof doesn’t lead.

Hobo camp hobo camp I miss my hobo camp. Hobo camp hobo camp I miss my hobo camp. Finally got out and went back to the spot. Was surprised to see it was a parking lot. But me I can’t get too down. Just find me a new spot at the edge of town.

Hobo camp hobo camp I’m gonna build me a new hobo camp.

Land remembered

Preserved

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Across the Windmill Prairie there was a place my Grandpa knew, a cabin on the isle of pines not far from the dried up slough. He built a place, my dad and him out of old scrap metal and wood where they were free to hunt and just be back in the days when time were good. We get it, this modern world, it’s a place of compromise, but we can’t forget it either, how they tore it from our lives

Cause a man can build a cabin, and a man can shake your hand

But a handshake don’t mean nothing when lines get drawn on the land

Every autumn they went out, it was a tradition I guess you could say, forged in the sweat and blood of doing it the old fashioned way. Along the trail we passed the camps where the Indians stood firm and deeper we’d see a bear with so many lessons to learn. We get it, this modern world the frontier days long gone. But we can’t forget it either, how they smoked us out with their laws

We always knew there were bad actors and we did what we could

But the new sheriff didn’t separate the guilty from the good

We knew the end was coming, but we ignored it all because we still had a crazy hope it would go back to how it once was. That all changed the day Dad up and died out of the blue. His lifetime lease was suddenly void, there wasn’t anything we could do. We get it, this modern world, it’s signed away in ink. But we can’t forget it either, how they betrayed our handshake

They ran people out of the glades back in 1949

But they promised us it would be a different this time

I split the wood and lit it and sat and watched the flame thinking how so much unraveled with so many people to blame. We stayed up that whole night almost to the dawn in denial an era had ended and not ready to be moving on. We get it, it’s the modern world, you take what you can afford, but we can’t forget it either, how they took us back on their word.

They promised us our traditions in the swamp and the glades

Only to be boxed out of the table when the decisions were being made

I packed up what I could and left the all the rest to rot to be return to nature, ashes to ashes dust to dust. I kept a stoic face and didn’t once even turn back. Doing so would be admitting defeat and opening wounds to more salt. We get it, it’s the modern world nothing’s sacred anymore, but we won’t forget it either how they pushed us out the door.

Maybe they stopped the drainage and maybe they saved the land

But they killed a kind of freedom folks will never understand

Some people say the future is a screwed up version of the past. But me I’m just trying to enjoy whatever time I have left. Can you hear the wind a-blowin’ nd the call of the red shouldered hawk? None of this would even be here if they’d built the old Jetport

We get it, this modern world we all got what we deserve

But we can’t forget it either how they turned it into a preserve

Tragedy in the woods

Ugliest Forest

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Some people said it looked obscene. That it had all the wrong types of trees. Other people drove by it and didn’t notice it at all. The road was the only thing they saw. Rumor was it had hobo camp or three. Not exactly a nice place to be.

But if you listen closely you can hear the bird call.

It was the ugliest forest you ever saw

There was old two track that went to a foundation that somebody said used to be a service station. Long ago the owners up and left, and so grew back a secondary forest. Still see some fruit from the grove that in the light shine like gold.

Over time it grew thick and tall.

It was the ugliest forest you ever saw

Bears seemed to like it, at least one. He’d go in and play under the sun. Birds would fly in and land on a branch. They didn’t care it was the wrong type of plant Lots of mice, rabbits and squirrels and such. They liked the forest very much

Over time it grew thick and tall

It was the ugliest forest you ever saw

Then came the stakes and the neon tape that more or less sealed its fate. A week after that the machines revved the up and didn’t stop until everything was cut. Birds are gone except for some crows. And a dead bear by the side of the road.

It was about the ugliest forest you ever saw

But not anymore because it’s completely gone

Faith finds a way

Let Your Light Shine Through

Words and music by Bobby Angel

In the world where we live

You have got to forgive

And let your love shine through

Theories abound how it all went down

And everybody runs to a side (and hides)

But when the truth is let loose it will ring like a proof

Of mathematical metaphysical resound

Refrain

Some things don’t change no matter how much you rearrange

That don’t demean what you’ve done (or do)

‘cause when the day it grows dark them angels they hark

haleluhia to the good news that you brang

Refrain

Whispered words too light to be heard

You know that they’re better left unsaid (and unheard)

Well don’t bother to listen, it ain’t nothing your missing

On that I give my word

Refrain, repeat

Fair winds

North Wind

Words and music by Bobby Angel

When the north wind blows in, when north wind blows in – I can feel it down in my toes. When The north wind blows in, when the north blows in, I feel it down in my toes, down in my toes.

The sky is blue my mind is clear. I feel a hundred percent here. I’m feeling so good. Feeling just like I should. When the north wind blows in when the north wind blows in.

The palm fronds are blowing, my mind is glowing. The world is all in my reach. I don’t even need to speak

When the north wind blows in, when north wind blows in, when the north wind blows in

Old habits die hard
Bobby Angel's lyrics to "Not Sure"

Not Sure

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Where am I now and what happened last night, I’m not sure? As I get to my feet and pull the sheet over her shoulder. I go to the kitchen and splash water on my face and slide my shades into place. You know I do what I do because I’ve always done it that way. Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

How much longer can I go on living like this, I’m not sure? Other than I don’t think this drink will be my last one. Someday I promise I’ll go straight, and hopefully not before it’s too late. You know I’m just trying my best to get past the moment. Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

Is it me or does something feel different tonight, I’m not sure? As she walks through the door and sits next to me at the bar. Next think I know we’re chatting it up as the bartender he fills up our cup. Here I go again just like I did the other day. Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

Is this just a short walk to her car, I’m not sure? As she pulls the keys from her purse and she opens up the door. Can’t be convinced that I’m doing no harm as she lies asleep in my arms. Best present yet and it isn’t even my birthday. Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

Where am I now and what happened last night, I’m not sure? As I get to my feet and pull the sheet over her shoulder. I go to the kitchen and splash water on my face and slide my shades into place. You know I do what I do because I’ve always done it that way. Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

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Darkest hour

New Dawn

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Cards were bad and in a hole, had a low pair and was about to fold, Didn’t expect to be down so far in the game with younger faces all around whispering the same, But against my better judgement stayed in, doubled down and called his bluff I was going for the win. Whatever happened before now, it’s a thing of the past. And I gotta admit it came as a complete surprise, unexpected.

It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.

The darkest hour was coming on strong, everything I did wrong piling on. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I got a train coming at me on a collision course. No path ahead or way to retreat, I was a gonner in the tunnel of my final defeat Lights flashed in my eyes before I finally realized, not a train at all, just the best thing I ever saw.

It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.

Did my best but now I wonder why I even bothered to try. So I’ll be on my way, Just wasn’t in the cards at the end of the day, hit the trail out of town, hung my head with dread and stared at the ground. It was the darkest hour yet, the farthest from the sunset and then what came next was completely unexpected.

It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.

Barbarians knocking at the door Horsemen I’m counting four, Iagos whispering in my ear and the grim reaper is drawing near Vultures are perched on the roof, dear lord I don’t need any more proof. Fell to my knees to pray when I saw that golden ray and staggered to my feet in complete disbelief.

It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.

Jim Dill Road

Old Jim Dill

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Old Jim Dill was a friend of mine, a hermit who live at the end of the line. 

A man who didn’t have a lot to say.  An man who died but never went away.

He kept his medals and he kept his gun, when returned at the end of World War I.  But somehow things weren’t the same, so he left it all behind and he went away. Into the swamp to the end of the road, where he build him a cabin and called it home.  ‘Coon and a gator he kept as a pet.  Orneriest man you’ve ever met.

Old Jim Dill was a friend of mine, a hermit who lived at the end of the line. 

Didn’t say much didn’t have a phone.  Wonder if he ever felt alone.

Didn’t change at all and then it changed real fast, the new guard breaking away from the past. They chopped the trees and dug the earth, with not a care for what it was worth. Hated to see what he saw, but so goes the swamp under frontier law.  Where fending yourself to stay safe, meant pointing a riffle in somebody’s face..

Old Jim Dill was a friend of mine, the hermit who lived at the end of the line. Guarded his home with a gun and a horse, ‘til the day he was killed by a snake on his porch. Venom punctured through his hide, finally killed the pain inside.  Comforted by a nurse at his bed who held his hand to the very end.

Old Jim Dill is a friend of mine,  think about him when I pass the sign. 

Dead end then and a dead end to most, haunted by Jim Dill’s ghost.