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LYRICS! DROP EM HERE!
- Thread starter OPBASSMAN1994
- Start date
Ehhh, it would be more like "the Lamb Lies Down On Broadway" by Genesis and the book of Revelation in the Bible. I'll send you a copy of the story when I've developed it. I have to have the songs in place first. They are the integral points to the story.
I have a new song that I think will be nice. Post apocalyptic landscape used as a metaphor for the turbulence of life. When everything around has fallen apart, the only direction left is toward the cross, and the light around it.
HAND AND HORIZON
I went looking for some sunlight,
but all I found was rain.
I went looking for some guidance,
but all I heard was who's to blame.
I went looking for a place to rest,
but had to sleep in desert sand.
I went looking for a hero,
but all that was left to stand
was a cross on the horizon,
and the gold one in my hand.
was a cross on the horizon,
and the gold one in my hand.
I went looking for conversation,
but found just the voice of the wind.
I went looking for a companion,
but the dunes were my only friend.
I went looking for arrival,
but all I found was miles to go.
I went looking for direction,
but the only clue I know
is the cross on the horizon,
and in my hand, one made of gold.
is the cross on the horizon,
and in my hand, one made of gold.
I went looking for some answers,
but found I had them all the time.
I went looking to clear my conscience,
but found no record of my crimes.
And I've gone looking in this wasteland,
and wandered if you're still in town.
I went out looking for you,
and this is what I found:
A cross on the horizon,
and one that circles my hand round.
A cross on the horizon,
and one that circles my hand round.
to walk into the sunrise,
that's the place that I am bound.
A cross on the horizon,
with the wind, the only sound.
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
HAND AND HORIZON
I went looking for some sunlight,
but all I found was rain.
I went looking for some guidance,
but all I heard was who's to blame.
I went looking for a place to rest,
but had to sleep in desert sand.
I went looking for a hero,
but all that was left to stand
was a cross on the horizon,
and the gold one in my hand.
was a cross on the horizon,
and the gold one in my hand.
I went looking for conversation,
but found just the voice of the wind.
I went looking for a companion,
but the dunes were my only friend.
I went looking for arrival,
but all I found was miles to go.
I went looking for direction,
but the only clue I know
is the cross on the horizon,
and in my hand, one made of gold.
is the cross on the horizon,
and in my hand, one made of gold.
I went looking for some answers,
but found I had them all the time.
I went looking to clear my conscience,
but found no record of my crimes.
And I've gone looking in this wasteland,
and wandered if you're still in town.
I went out looking for you,
and this is what I found:
A cross on the horizon,
and one that circles my hand round.
A cross on the horizon,
and one that circles my hand round.
to walk into the sunrise,
that's the place that I am bound.
A cross on the horizon,
with the wind, the only sound.
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
new one written on the flight to arizona last night
CHASING THE SUN
Left the land at six a.m.
to climb into the sky.
With the lightning screaming at us,
and midnight rushing at our eyes.
The daylight had receeded,
under careless watch of time,
some ran into the corner,
waiting until they saw a sign.
But we saw fate would not be kind,
and that the sand was falling through,
had to admit, we didn't know,
what else is there to do?
We chase the sun to where he's from,
and try to understand,
we chase the sun until all is done,
and we grasp his hand.
Chased on over clouded plains,
with single minded thought.
All the while wondering,
If we'd find what we sought.
Before, the scales tipped violently,
and the lines were turning grey,
None around us knew the things,
to do or what to say,
Only hazy memories,
carved in red upon a scroll.
But that is all that we we could see,
so we fly on as thunder rolls.
We chase the sun to where he's from,
and try to understand,
we chase the sun, until all is done,
until we grasp his hand.
(Daniel Graham 2011)
CHASING THE SUN
Left the land at six a.m.
to climb into the sky.
With the lightning screaming at us,
and midnight rushing at our eyes.
The daylight had receeded,
under careless watch of time,
some ran into the corner,
waiting until they saw a sign.
But we saw fate would not be kind,
and that the sand was falling through,
had to admit, we didn't know,
what else is there to do?
We chase the sun to where he's from,
and try to understand,
we chase the sun until all is done,
and we grasp his hand.
Chased on over clouded plains,
with single minded thought.
All the while wondering,
If we'd find what we sought.
Before, the scales tipped violently,
and the lines were turning grey,
None around us knew the things,
to do or what to say,
Only hazy memories,
carved in red upon a scroll.
But that is all that we we could see,
so we fly on as thunder rolls.
We chase the sun to where he's from,
and try to understand,
we chase the sun, until all is done,
until we grasp his hand.
(Daniel Graham 2011)
I write most of the songs for my band. I think this is my best work yet:
Snookie's Muff Cabbage
by Ryan of fRK (Invalid Link Removed)
She's got long black hair
That **** me stare
And if I had to guess
If she was DTF
The answer would be yes
I like to dance
But when I want to get in your pants
There just isn't a chance
That I
Want
to
Dance
....Still working on a chorus/refrain/2nd verse. I think it will sell like hotcakes.
Snookie's Muff Cabbage
by Ryan of fRK (Invalid Link Removed)
She's got long black hair
That **** me stare
And if I had to guess
If she was DTF
The answer would be yes
I like to dance
But when I want to get in your pants
There just isn't a chance
That I
Want
to
Dance
....Still working on a chorus/refrain/2nd verse. I think it will sell like hotcakes.
Here's a portion of a song I'm working on...
Come on
turn off your radio
come with us
because you know
we're gonna go
crazy
we all wanna live again
(who needs a thousand facebook friends?)
Where's the life?
Where's the love?
Where's the anguish
screaming from our lungs?
We're not made of plastic anymore...
there's more but that's the basic jist.
Come on
turn off your radio
come with us
because you know
we're gonna go
crazy
we all wanna live again
(who needs a thousand facebook friends?)
Where's the life?
Where's the love?
Where's the anguish
screaming from our lungs?
We're not made of plastic anymore...
there's more but that's the basic jist.
Thanks to Genesis for the album "Trick of the Tale", under the musical influence of which I wrote this! 
THE MOMENT THAT STIRS THE SOUL
The moment may hold,
what you can hold on to.
As a flash that grows old,
Has meaning only when it stirs the soul.
Stirs the soul.
Nothing has a foothold,
unless the heart has found a home,
if in the passing of a second,
it finds it's not alone.
Nothing turns to daybreak,
until the light comes along,
when the hands that created it hold it,
and the gates pour forth a song.
ripples don't come back,
so the wave must be ridden,
to the point where nothing lacks,
to feel as much, to finally touch, the truth.
touch the truth.
Nothing really matters.
Except what's really true.
Nothing really matters,
Except for what found you.
Nothing really matters,
when the sunshine's turned to gray,
Nothing really matters,
except the moments that you pray.
The moment may hold,
what you can hold on to.
As a flash that grows old,
Has meaning only when it stirs the soul.
Stirs the soul.
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
THE MOMENT THAT STIRS THE SOUL
The moment may hold,
what you can hold on to.
As a flash that grows old,
Has meaning only when it stirs the soul.
Stirs the soul.
Nothing has a foothold,
unless the heart has found a home,
if in the passing of a second,
it finds it's not alone.
Nothing turns to daybreak,
until the light comes along,
when the hands that created it hold it,
and the gates pour forth a song.
ripples don't come back,
so the wave must be ridden,
to the point where nothing lacks,
to feel as much, to finally touch, the truth.
touch the truth.
Nothing really matters.
Except what's really true.
Nothing really matters,
Except for what found you.
Nothing really matters,
when the sunshine's turned to gray,
Nothing really matters,
except the moments that you pray.
The moment may hold,
what you can hold on to.
As a flash that grows old,
Has meaning only when it stirs the soul.
Stirs the soul.
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
That, and that the moments that matter most are the ones where you are near to God, honestly praying for help, guidance, or just for blessings on the road of life. I'm glad you like it! Here's another below:
FLYING HOME
I am filled with longing,
as the miles pass me by.
And I am far from feeling,
by the ice of northern skies.
But behind the clouds of morning,
past where the sun is set,
I have no regrets,
And I won't forget.
I am coming back at last.
Moving by my past.
the rearview fading fast.
Far across the wings of echoes in the distant beat,
way off across the mountains where heaven and earth meet.
I have travelled a million miles just to feel nothing beneath my feet but the Kingdom's air.
My home is there.
My home is there.
I am quickly fading,
as the night sky closes in,
and I have to cut me open,
and bleed out where I've been.
Ahead is the decision,
And I choose to fly ahead,
toward where I was led,
toward where I was led.
I disregard the time,
And just focus on the rhyme,
I am yours and you are mine.
Far across the wings of echoes in the distant beat,
way off across the mountains where heaven and earth meet.
I have travelled a million miles just to feel nothing beneath my feet but the Kingdom's air.
My home is there.
My home is there.
The breath of light offers up it's gift,
I feel my body tugged by my soul's lift.
I am shedding the black, and shedding the gray,
taking on all of the colours of day.
Far across the wings of echoes in the distant beat,
way off across the mountains where heaven and earth meet.
I have travelled a million miles just to feel nothing beneath my feet but the Kingdom's air.
My home is there.
My home is there.
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
I am filled with longing,
as the miles pass me by.
And I am far from feeling,
by the ice of northern skies.
But behind the clouds of morning,
past where the sun is set,
I have no regrets,
And I won't forget.
I am coming back at last.
Moving by my past.
the rearview fading fast.
Far across the wings of echoes in the distant beat,
way off across the mountains where heaven and earth meet.
I have travelled a million miles just to feel nothing beneath my feet but the Kingdom's air.
My home is there.
My home is there.
I am quickly fading,
as the night sky closes in,
and I have to cut me open,
and bleed out where I've been.
Ahead is the decision,
And I choose to fly ahead,
toward where I was led,
toward where I was led.
I disregard the time,
And just focus on the rhyme,
I am yours and you are mine.
Far across the wings of echoes in the distant beat,
way off across the mountains where heaven and earth meet.
I have travelled a million miles just to feel nothing beneath my feet but the Kingdom's air.
My home is there.
My home is there.
The breath of light offers up it's gift,
I feel my body tugged by my soul's lift.
I am shedding the black, and shedding the gray,
taking on all of the colours of day.
Far across the wings of echoes in the distant beat,
way off across the mountains where heaven and earth meet.
I have travelled a million miles just to feel nothing beneath my feet but the Kingdom's air.
My home is there.
My home is there.
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
that, and also dying and going to Heaven. "Icarus-Born on Wings of Steel" by Kansas must be cited as influence on the song, as well as "We Can Fly From Here" by Yes!
Do you like it?
Do you like it?
AN EMPTY GIFT
I - Center Stage
Center stage, the actor monolouges,
of his assesment of the weak and poor,
it's automatic, practiced thoroughly,
to be forgotten as he crosses through the door,
to drive out, to the old airfield,
where the blessings he's sold with words,
come to shape his flyer, waiting,
to claw into God's sky with the birds.
But his performance takes a turn,
as his mask begins to burn,
like his waxen wings,
and the silver of his rings.
II - The Crash
Down, down, down,
the charade has had it's day and is falling apart.
Down, deep down,
the stone is cracking in the castle in your heart.
Down, to the ground,
the walls collapse and the fields wither away,
Down, on your knees,
Is this how you pictured your last day?
and down, down, down,
you collapse into a pool of tears,
down, down, down,
it's the sorrow, it's the sorrow of your years...
III - At the Gates
He turned his face from me,
I saw a tear run down his cheek,
a bitter sort of dissapointment,
and I was striken weak.
And it was Christmas morning,
and all I had to give,
was a pocket full of sand,
and the lies that I had lived...
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
Basically the story of a corrupt preacher who gives a sermon on the blessings of the poor and weak, just to climb into his private jet. Midway through the flight, the jet experiences an engine failure and crashes, killing him. He finds himself before God at the gates of Heaven, where others, who were truly faithful and righteous, are presenting Him with marvelous gifts that represent their lives for Christ on earth. It comes to be his turn to present his gift, and the preacher reaches into his pockets and finds nothing but sand that was once hundreds of dollars in cash. He looks up, and sees sadness and disappointment in God's eyes, and the preacher realizes his whole life has been a lie, and that he had wasted it all.
I - Center Stage
Center stage, the actor monolouges,
of his assesment of the weak and poor,
it's automatic, practiced thoroughly,
to be forgotten as he crosses through the door,
to drive out, to the old airfield,
where the blessings he's sold with words,
come to shape his flyer, waiting,
to claw into God's sky with the birds.
But his performance takes a turn,
as his mask begins to burn,
like his waxen wings,
and the silver of his rings.
II - The Crash
Down, down, down,
the charade has had it's day and is falling apart.
Down, deep down,
the stone is cracking in the castle in your heart.
Down, to the ground,
the walls collapse and the fields wither away,
Down, on your knees,
Is this how you pictured your last day?
and down, down, down,
you collapse into a pool of tears,
down, down, down,
it's the sorrow, it's the sorrow of your years...
III - At the Gates
He turned his face from me,
I saw a tear run down his cheek,
a bitter sort of dissapointment,
and I was striken weak.
And it was Christmas morning,
and all I had to give,
was a pocket full of sand,
and the lies that I had lived...
(Daniel Graham, 2011)
Basically the story of a corrupt preacher who gives a sermon on the blessings of the poor and weak, just to climb into his private jet. Midway through the flight, the jet experiences an engine failure and crashes, killing him. He finds himself before God at the gates of Heaven, where others, who were truly faithful and righteous, are presenting Him with marvelous gifts that represent their lives for Christ on earth. It comes to be his turn to present his gift, and the preacher reaches into his pockets and finds nothing but sand that was once hundreds of dollars in cash. He looks up, and sees sadness and disappointment in God's eyes, and the preacher realizes his whole life has been a lie, and that he had wasted it all.
Got the whole concept of this song done along with the music, but the lyrics are far from it!
For now it's known to the band as G Minor. Creative eh?
It's somewhat of an epic and is split into parts, I'm just about finished the first section.
Part 1: The March of the Damned
Horded atop the battlegrounds
With edged blades at hand
The weather struck as cold as ice
And questions to no end
Why must we fight?
The answers afield
Indecipherable it remains
But the foes draw near
As exquisite fear
And the war must now begin
For now it's known to the band as G Minor. Creative eh?
It's somewhat of an epic and is split into parts, I'm just about finished the first section.Part 1: The March of the Damned
Horded atop the battlegrounds
With edged blades at hand
The weather struck as cold as ice
And questions to no end
Why must we fight?
The answers afield
Indecipherable it remains
But the foes draw near
As exquisite fear
And the war must now begin
He spoke the joke
No thought to the quote from his throat
Just hope to stay afloat
Backpedalling, retracing, facing the past
dredging the muck from the bottom of the moat
Changing each day with the passing
the pulse of his heartbeat relaxing
Action, infraction, brings the distraction
and the dissatisfaction of a fraction
of the circle surrounding
While in between flurries of questions
keeping you guessing
from where the next bomb drops
and when next the time stops
it's too late to get off.
No thought to the quote from his throat
Just hope to stay afloat
Backpedalling, retracing, facing the past
dredging the muck from the bottom of the moat
Changing each day with the passing
the pulse of his heartbeat relaxing
Action, infraction, brings the distraction
and the dissatisfaction of a fraction
of the circle surrounding
While in between flurries of questions
keeping you guessing
from where the next bomb drops
and when next the time stops
it's too late to get off.
I've got a couple of new songs - "Highway Freedom" and "Mummy in a Tank". However, one had improv'd lyrics (with the help of some/lots of Jäger) and the other has written lyrics, which I don't have with me...
[Invalid or Expired Link Removed]
The tracks are up there - btw, these songs aren't 100% serious...
[Invalid or Expired Link Removed]
The tracks are up there - btw, these songs aren't 100% serious...
