writingintune.com

by Michael McGrath

Pulling myself through the blue
Puffy clouds remind me of you
Looking down on the lake like a mirror
Greens and browns smell of pine in the air

Everybody wants to fly
And reach up to the sky
Do they think that god’s on high
Cause everybody wants to fly

Like the geese  we’re all heading south
I’ll take the lead for a while
Now that I’m  stronger with each passing day
Soon we’ll all be safe and flying free

Everybody wants to fly
And reach up to the sky
Do they think that god’s on high
Cause everybody wants to fly

The spirits they are calling me to come
And they’re showing me the way
I know that they won’t let me down
And they hear me when I pray

Everybody wants to fly
And reach up to the sky
Do they think that god’s on high
Cause everybody wants to fly
Cause everybody wants to fly
Everybody wants to fly
Everybody wants to fly

By Michael McGrath

When the boys they came back
Some were damaged and hurt
Most settled down but the nightmares stayed on

Many took to the drink
To forget and survive,
But the horrors of war stayed with them at night

They’d gather and talk about this about that
They would sit and recall at the sound of taps
The boys that they left, that would never come home,

They left in their teens,
And came back grown men,
Their lives torn apart at the call of a whim

And now their very own sons
are lined up again
To head off to fight
Where’s there’s nothing to win

They’d gather and talk about this about that
They would sit and recall at the sound of taps
The boys that they left, that would never come home,

How soon we forget,
When the bell tolls their names
That’s its up to us all to refuse
war again

To stop those in their tracks,
Who would send out boys back,
To kill and be killed in no one’s good name.

They’d gather and talk about this and about that
They would sit and recall at the sound of taps,
The boys that they left, that would never come home, No glory in that, resist my good friend, bring war to an end, Bring War To An End

By Michael McGrath – 1983

The Silver Grill on Ambridge Drive was run by Hin and Moma Sue,
Every night the boys in town would gather out front to booze,
The squeal of tires, the burning strips and haze inside their cars,
Energy ran down that drive like lines from lit fire flies.

Well Hin and Mama had two sons one Kenny was my age,
We both went though public school and where we became good friends.
A buddy told me a few years back that Kenny passed himself away.
Life got hard for him one day and somehow he lost his way.

The Silver Grill on Ambridge Drive was run by a Hin and Moma Sue,
Every night the boys in town would gather out front to booze,
The squeal of tires, the burning strips and haze inside their cars,
Energy ran down that drive like lines from lit fire flies.

Kenny took the exit out alone and just confused,
It hurts me still to think of him with nobody left to tell,
Just how a happy little boy falls into such a living hell.
He had to move in two different worlds every day just to survive.

The Silver Grill on Ambridge Drive was run by a Hin and Moma Sue,
Every night the boys in town would gather out front to booze,
The squeal of tires, the burning strips and haze inside their cars,
Energy ran down that drive like lines from lit fire flies.

Well Hin and Moma mourned real bad,
The lights burned low for months,
Yet, life inside the Silver Grill kept moving all the time,
Hungry darlings of the night in search of something else
Inside the walls, with juke box hits that was the Silver Grill

By Michael McGrath – 1986

The way he moves is slow and like he is captive,
He has the fear of a caged animal about him,
Slavery days of yesteryear still have a hold,
Buccaneers still ride the waves in his DNA,
Spanish galleons still guard the way to port.
When he stops to look in my general direction
I see the palm trees in his black coral eyes.
I see the palm trees in his black coral eyes.

He tells me of his life here in paradise,
His hands are rough with the work of hard labour,
Long hours in the hot sun have blistered his purple black skin,
He tells me everything is for papa back in Boca Chica,
Papa takes the most of his small pay and drinks away his days,
When he stops to connect with me,
I see the palm trees in his black coral eyes.
I see the palm trees in his black coral eyes.

When he is not working you can find him on the beach,
Not for the sun or sand and recreation,
Here amidst the dull and floating tourists,
He takes his daily bath and defecates,
Still somehow as he walks among the wealthy,
He shows them a smile and his anxious look is kind.
I see the palm trees in his black coral eyes.
I see the palm trees in his black coral eyes.

by Michael McGrath – 1985

I don’t know what type of tree it was,
Winter had taken the life from its limbs and branches,
Leaves had long since flown with the wind,
But, two berries remained dangling from a mere thread of fibre,
Bright Red Berries they were,
They almost glowed in contrast to the grey and white of the northern winter landscape,
They trembled in pulsating blusters and seemed so alone and out of place,
Red Berries in the snow

I stopped in my snowshoe tracks,
Then stomped and packed down the snow in a circle,
From a nearby pine I took some boughs to lay in a circle,
Here I lay down in the resounding silence,
Searching white clouds floated in the pastel blue sky,
A winter pale sun danced off of the infinite white blanket of snow,
I took comfort in the peace here on the outskirts of town,
Red Berries in the snow

Everyone else had moved on,
I felt as though I was more or less surviving these long winter days,
An entirely new and vast world lay before me at the edge of town,
Yet, I felt like a bird with a broken wing,
I could not fly and I did my best to deal with life on the ground,
The confines of town streets and the house pulled me and beat me down,
I may as well have been black in the middle of small town texas,
Red berries in the snow.

I Don’t Feel Like Singing Anymore
By Mike McGrath for Emily , June 21, 2007

C……Em……F……G……Em…..C

I don’t feel like singing anymore,
Feel like a bird that’s fallen from the sky,
I don’t feel like dancing all around,
Feel like a butterfly that broke its wing
It’s like the world has grown cold and grey

I don’t feel like laughing anymore,
Feel like a clown that’s lost his funny bone,
I don’t see the colours in your flowers,
They seem so pale without you around
It’s like they are leaving with you now

You move around me like a fading wind,
You brush against me make me feel again,
I hear your words inside the corridors,
Of all those memories we built in time,
And time heals everything in time

I don’t feel like gazing at the stars,
Feel like you have joined them, gone to far,
I don’t see reflections in the lake
Just deep wells of swirling sadness
It’s like my world’s turned upside down

I don’t feel like walking down the trail,
The forest seems so dark and lonely,
And I don’t want to sleep and dream,
My dreams seem troubled and full of anguish
And your not there when I awake

You move around me like a fading wind,
You brush against me make me feel again,
I hear your words inside the corridors,
Of all those memories we built in time,
And time heals everything in time

I don’t feel like singing anymore,
Still I try to find my way in song

Time For Living
Lyrics By Michael McGrath for an old friend April 14, 2008
The Song is being developed

Well I’m standing here feeling like a long lost friend,
Just might come by blowing in with the wind,
It just could be that I’ve finally bottomed out,
And just when I thought that life was over for me,
I’m moving ahead and feeling free

Feel like that little boy I once was,
I can see clearly what’s ahead of me
Time for living clean and free
Clean………

It feels like I’ve been spinning round and round,
Trapped in some kind of sinking reality,
Going down for the third time baby,
When you reached out and took hold of me,
I’m moving ahead and feeling free

Feel like that little boy I once was,
I can see clearly what’s ahead of me,
Time for living clean and free,
Clean………..

Been so long since I could look in the mirror
And really like the person looking back at me,
The fog is clearing now and I can see my way,
A helping hand here an honest word to go,
I m moving ahead and feeling free

The Living Room
By Mike McGrath for John E, April 14, 2008

Somewhere they are waiting,
Tea is on the stove and cookies baking,
They are playing the piano and singing tunes,

Nothing really matters in the living room
Nothing really matters in the living room
Nothing really matters in the living room

There comes a knocking on the door,
No need to fret there’s always room for more,
Friends and neighbours come and go,

Time stands still in the living room
Time stands still in the living room
Time stands still in the living room

Hard times and little tragedies all forgotten,
Forgiveness answers when called upon,
Comfort comes in their sweet songs

Nothing to hide from in the living room
Nothing to hide from in the living room
Nothing to hide from in the living room

It’s warm and cozy and you can lay down,
Rest your weary mind and get lost in the sound,
Of all the voices of everyone you ever loved

The sun shines out the living room,
The sun shines out the living room,
The sun shines out the living room,