I made a casual resolution that I’d like to write a Dracula musical, just for my own enjoyment, because I like my collection of them. This lyric has been clattering around in my head for a while.
is this a dream? or am I awake? does the lord come for my soul to take?
the twilight grows damp my vision goes dim the sunset downs dark all I see is him
i try to awaken but the whispers insist
the scarlet eyes the scarlet eyes the scarlet eyes in the mist
cool on my skin hot to the touch have i ever known love to desire this much?
lights in the shadow salt on my tongue sin in my heart yearning unsung
i try to remember why i should resist
the scarlet eyes the scarlet eyes the scarlet eyes in the mist
I’d been holding onto a few lines of this for ages and only came up with a song to go with it today.
Loosely inspired by Ezekiel 37, the Valley of Dry Bones, should have a lovely, rough folk beat, like Bishop Briggs’ “River.”
–
RATTLIN BONES (EZEKIEL 37)
Rattlin bones Rattlin bones Get up and dance You rattlin bones Can bones yet live? You rattlin bones Rise up in the name of the Lord
Skeleton fingers On skeleton hands Counting the time For the skeleton band Skeleton feet With skeleton toes Tapping along To the feast of the crows
Rattlin bones Rattlin bones Get up and dance You rattlin bones Can bones yet live? You rattlin bones Rise up in the name of the Lord
Tendons on bone Muscle to skin Build up the bodies To the flesh that they’re in The breath of life A song in the air To dance in the dust Of the flesh that they bear
Rattlin bones Rattlin bones Get up and dance You rattlin bones Can bones yet live? You rattlin bones Rise up in the name of the Lord
The graves are all open The souls are all free Teeming the valley For all souls to see The multitude sings Stomps thousands of feet Unsettling the dust To the living hearts’ beat
Rattlin bones Rattlin bones Get up and dance You rattlin bones Can bones yet live? You rattlin bones Rise up in the name of the Lord
I posted a simpler, cleaner version of WE ARE THE ENEMY last year, but I’ve revisited the first version and decided that, though it has some similar lines, it has a few different kinds of things to say. I’m battling a lot of feelings that are bigger than me, so big I can barely put them into words. I decided to borrow, for now.
WE ARE THE ENEMY 2.0
Truth, justice, and the American way Heroes fly with stars and stripes, red and blue and white It’s all okay at the end of an American day How we do it doesn’t matter if we’re right.
God bless America, we’re right, so we must be good And if we’re good, we can’t be wrong And if we can’t be wrong, we do what we should We do what we should, with an oath and a song.
We are the villains in too many stories And not just those of those we condemn We think power makes us strong And strength gives us the right to win.
That because we are strong, we must be good That because we are good, we must be free But look at what we do, look at what we’ve made of you and me We are the enemy.
Holding the unfinished in steel claws While buildings crumble to the ground Our words are sacred, absolute oaths Never to be torn, burned, or bound.
All without words spoken, without the mark Can fall to the conviction of our words Our deeds are counted by the cruelties dealt Cards we call good, the right of the sword.
I never thought I’d see the day I never thought I’d see the day When there were people we didn’t need to save Sacrificed because they had the wrong name Because they didn’t play the right game Or didn’t resist wrong the right way.
I never thought I’d see the day Until the day I knew it had been here all along Trails of tears, trails of blood Stepping on the bodies of innocents To climb to the top and tell ourselves It’s our day, our sun Because we’re the ones casting the shadow We never put down the sword or the word There was never depth too low for us to go As we cursed those casting shade in the shadow we made.
Because here I thought we were trying Instead of lying and calling it truth Instead of executions called justice out of court Instead of pride for an American way That’s always been the American way.
I knew we were bad. I thought we were better.
We are the villains in too many stories And not just those of those we condemn We think power makes us strong And strength gives us the right to win.
That because we are strong, we must be good That because we are good, we must be free But look at what we do, look at what we’ve made of you and me We are the enemy.
I haven’t gotten many songs written this year, because I’ve felt too strongly for anything to coalesce into something substantial. But I managed to put something into words, things I’m afraid of saying, but it’s done. The sickness hasn’t quite left my chest yet, but it’s done.
WE ARE THE ENEMY
We thought we were heroes We tried to be We wanted to be We said we were good We said we were free Free to be good Free to be bad We could choose the we that we wanted to be We made the choice We decided not to see We made it from the start We were and are and ever will be We thought we were heroes We are the enemy.
We’re the heroes of our story The greatest country In the smallest world Built with blood money Grown from flesh seeds Of brown cocoa And black coffee Of corn and cotton under a chopped cherry tree We deny responsibility If it wasn’t personally When under other names Still degradation of humanity We thought we were heroes We are the enemy.
Never villains of our story Inconceivable that we’d ever be Treason to even claim Unpatriotic, unthinkable treachery That means we won’t listen No longer have to hear No longer have to see We’re villains if our villains do the same things We condemn the evil deeds In a mirror, cry deniability If we say it enough times We think everyone will believe We thought we were heroes We are the enemy.
Stab a knife in the high ground And dig two graves One the bed we made The other the dead we laid Layers and layers tall We say they make us feel small And that the bed we made Isn’t comfortable at all There’s only so many times To deny that we fall And to pretend that we would never Have been a villain, too, through it all.
If we say it enough times We think everyone will believe In what we say Instead of what they see We thought we were heroes We are the enemy.
File under “Sometimes I get mad.” I wrote this last year as an indictment against systemic racism, from incarceration to economic opportunity, set in a reimagined world of non-human animals. Because what can I say, I watch a lot of Disney.
VULTURES
Scavengers caught in cages
Different stages of difficult phases
Fangs filed, claws clipped
To the bone, wings snipped.
Ribs press against skin
As spectators stare in
At beasts who never stood a chance
And never stand a chance again.
Fresh apples in dead mouths
Fresh blood, draining down
Decaying flesh, begging hand unfurled.
When did vultures get to rule the world?
Gold glints in their eyes
Black velvet circling the skies
Safe from the kill, prey the predator’s own.
When did vultures get to rule the world?
Beasts of work, beasts of burden
Unburdened by strain of security
Best to stay low to the ground
Better to maintain the purity.
Hungry eyes, the grass is greener
Where it isn’t needed.
What’s a hare to do
With something to care for, my dear?
Just another bit of roadkill.
No one’s crying, my dear.
Carrion desiccation
Unrepentant desecration
Each poor dying soul strung like a pearl.
When did vultures get to rule the world?
Everything collapses
And dignity lapses
There’s always dissatisfaction
For them to feast upon
A battered, bloody violent reaction
For them to feast upon
As though it doesn’t matter
Which beast they feast upon.
And the predators know
To leave a generous share.
Let the thoroughfare war
Over whether it’s fair.
There’s always more dead to go around.
Always something to blame farther down on the ground.
When did vultures get to rule the world?
When did vultures get to rule the world?
They say demons that tempt you walk in deserts
And the deserts are expanding all the time
Tumbleweeds are our new unit of measure
We just passed the last rusted street sign.
They say there’s gold in them there hills
At night, you hear cries and flashing lights
The moths flock in to eat their decaying fill
Promised cold ends in a warm paradise.
But the games are all rigged
And the house always wins,
The promise a mirage,
Successes the sins.
There are many roads and doors
To a hell with many levels
Another one bites the dust
As soon as the last red dust cloud settles
The wolves, they wear white wool
And the lambs howl like rebels
If we’re entertaining angels
Then aren’t we also entertaining devils?
There is more than one dead end coming
Red paint on cardboard says an end is nigh
With long dead language, the demons are summoned
With living words, the demon have learned to lie.
Abundant feasts have gone brown and spoiled
Laughter follows as the weakest fall
Nothing but fog for which men have toiled
Dancing in the streets from the latest thrall.
The party continues on
Until we wear through the soles
When laughs turn to screams
There’s no buying what we sold.
There are many roads and doors
To a hell with many levels
Another one bites the dust
As soon as the last red dust cloud settles
The wolves, they wear white wool
And the lambs howl like rebels
If we’re entertaining angels
Then aren’t we also entertaining devils?
From the view of the mad, the sane seem worse
Sanity’s heart is sanity’s curse
Hell’s unemployed, basking in the glow
There’s no telling how far man will go
To keep the wheels turning
And the candles burning
And the spirits yearning
For something already sacrificed
To the discerning gentleman
With scotch on ice
Who makes sure no one’s learning
What feeds the beast, what feeds a man
What need have we for devils
When we do so well ourselves?
Half the fun of wreaking havoc
Is knowing how many angels fell.
There are many roads and doors
To a hell with many levels
Another one bites the dust
As soon as the last red dust cloud settles
The wolves, they wear white wool
And the lambs howl like rebels
If we’re entertaining angels
Then aren’t we also entertaining devils?
The coming mist glows yellow
With sulfur in its smell
A smoky sky, hanging low,
Carries dangerous stories to tell.
Red sky in the morning
Blood on the moon at night
An ill-swept wind blows in
With an eerie kind of light.
The world is lit with warning signs
The roads run dark and still
Cyan bruises on these lips of mine
Purple sage upon the hill.
Red eyes from the mourning
Blood on the sheets at night
A sickness marks our subtle sin
The beast will have its bite.
In all the colors of all the signs
We saw but haven’t seen
That we bring ourselves to an end of times
When all we can see is green.
When all we can need is green.
A person must be wicked
If a person’s to be heard
Were I a witch, with verdant skin,
Could the lesson be learned?
Red hives in the morning
Blood from the mouth at night
The edge of green is browning
And blackens into white.
After a bit of a dry spell, lyric-writing inspiration hit me hard, and I had to take advantage of the windfall while I had it, so there will be more in the coming weeks.
I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with these things, but sometimes a feeling doesn’t want a whole novel to express it. I’d like to think that I’ll be able to DO something with them, but experience tells me that even if I do, that doesn’t make me heard.
RUNNING
Laying on the bed
Blood on the pillow
Drying brown
The porch swing creaks
In autumn wind
Where I’ve always belonged.
Always in a world of four walls
Head bruised by low ceilings getting lower
Told the walls were safe and I was just too tall
Locks for my own good, no use for a door.
I never try to get away
Torture to move
To breathe
I’ll take what you give
As the gift
That I have to receive.
But I’m running, running, running
Running, running, running
Left the keys in the car
The money in your pocket
You can’t tell me who you are
You can’t shut my mind and lock it
I’m running, running, running
Running, running, running
I don’t like to run, but I’ll run from you.
You asked for everything, every window open
You told me to stay, so I stayed
But even a spider reaches the end of her rope
And you know what a good spider does to a mate.
Been staying so long
I couldn’t see
Through your windows
That I could go
Where you weren’t
That I could just go…
You were a king
Of the smallest plot
But you’re not a king out there
Show your teeth
But I’ve got teeth of my own
If you don’t, why should I play fair?
There were a thousand forty-eight chances in my jar
And you just took the last one
I stood so still for so long
But the stone’s cracked and now I can run.
And I’m running, running, running
Running, running, running
Left the keys in the car
The money in your pocket
You can’t tell me who you are
You can’t shut my mind and lock it
I’m running, running, running
Running, running, running
I don’t like to run, but I’ll run from you.
I had a lot of fun writing this one, because it made me giggle and it doesn’t go the direction you think it will.
PRETTY
Do you think I’m pretty?
I don’t trust a mirror to tell me the truth
Do you think I’m pretty?
I don’t trust mirrors, but I’ll trust you.
My hair gleams so glossy
I scrubbed my skin till it shines
They’re both blacker than onyx
You’ll find no onyx stone finer than mine.
Do you think I’m pretty?
When I ask others, they all run
Do you think I’m pretty?
With the others gone, call me your only one.
I can smile for days
You’ll never find sharper teeth whiter than mine
I smile at you from ear to ear
To the back of my head, to the back of my spine.
Do you think I’m pretty?
My heart rests on your reply
Do you think I’m pretty?
If you don’t love me, someone will have to die.
Maybe me… Maybe you…
Have you ever seen a body like this?
Where others are lines, I’m all curves
Segmented, hard, and perfectly formed
Open your mouth and I’ll open mine. Dinner is served.
Do you think I’m pretty?
I cannot control the hand I’m dealt
Do you think I’m pretty?
My heart breaks the same as everyone else.
Do you think I’m pretty? (4x, deeper and growlier each time)
The water calls, my dear, my love,
Amanda M. Blake 