A SEA SONG, PART 3
Written and
recorded on location in North Ryde, Sidney, Australia in 1989.
(C) (P) BY PAUL HALL, 1987
Song warns about being shallow, that it leads to a living death.
^^ Time of decision, air ships passing overhead, the one who searches beyond all time, in the humor of a bard could bring it back in rhyme, each lesson learned propels our frail bark, silent elements speak with voices louder than any could ever hear, too busy to be alive, all men and women are wrong except in the hope of their song, motivation seemed so far away, take a hint from something beyond our thoughts, no room for contagion's vile thoughts, all things made new from the briars to the bird that flew, shall the future touch our thoughts, beached killer whales, to try to keep them from the beached whale slaughter, once again the vigil went on, the ones who refused to be free returned again to the sand, some lost their lives to the deep and wild sea, some lost their lives on the sand, if you do not launch out into the deep then the shallow sand's suicide is the only life you could keep,
A SEA SONG, PART 3
Written and recorded on location in North Ryde, Sidney, Australia in 1989, By Paul Hall.
(c) (p) by Paul Hall, 1987
We go from night on into day. Eleven twelve on the sixth of October, nineteen eighty eight. The time of decision.
In the distance the sounds of lawn mowers.
The airships passing overhead.
Some alive
but most of them
are what you might call
dead.
Who is the judge?
Who is the one to see
what's really there?
Who is the one who notices,
That is the one
who searches beyond all time
and in the humor of a bard
would bring it back in rhyme.
It's bigger than any person
could ever be.
In the days of Shakespeare
they once called eternity.
And the strokes of the oars
in the water's
silent currents
Each lesson learned
propels our frail bark
towards the horizon
and the sky
and we listen
and we wonder
will our bellies
cause us to lie
and cheat our neighbors
for our daily food
or will we try
not to worry
weather we live
or weather we die?
Silent elements
speak with voices
louder than anyone could ever hear.
They speak to anyone
who draweth near.
Who draweth near.
"We are too busy!"
They said.
Too busy to be alive,
they'd rather be dead.
They rather starve.
They'd rather not go
to what they were born for.
When you see the water show.
When you wait long enough,
you can know
that all men and women are wrong,
except in the hope
of their song.
I wanted to go.
And I knew I would know.
But I couldn't understand
with bare feet in the sand.
I tried
oh, so hard
to learn,
near and far.
And then a little girl came by.
She wanted to die.
She told me she wanted
to take her life.
She would sleep
so long
as if wishing to depart
and live in a dream.
Things to do
were not for her.
The fat tucked around
like the walrus blubber.
Motivations seemed so far away.
But I knew
that if she would wait for that day
to take a hint
from something beyond our thoughts.
To realize that her soul
like so many others
by money was bought.
The words of the wise man,
know the truth
and it will make you free.
And the sea and the waves
and the wind
unpredictably
have no room
for that which is not true.
They are devoured
by the sharks
and the starfish
in the brew.
There's no room
for contagion's vile thoughts.
So the liars
were determined
they would spike
her waters deep.
They would work
both day and night
to defraud the thing
that so silent a vigil did keep.
But it will respond some day
in anger and dismay,
"Don't take your life,
just give it away,
and it will come back again to you some day."
"Some beautiful day."
All things made new
from the briars
to the bird that flew
and fed off the carrion days gone by
past the silver tides.
Shall we learn those lessons?
Shall the future touch our thoughts?
A future where there is no thorn nor sting
and where no soul can be bought?
Shall we reach out in repentance
to the time of healing ahead?
Shall we reach out
for the living truth
and reject the lies that are dead?
Shall we?
Shall we?
They kept vigil all night.
For their lives they did fight.
For the beached killer whales.
They covered them
with buckets of water
to try to keep them
from the beached whale slaughter.
Revived and out to sea once again.
And they turned
back to shore
and they beached themselves
once more.
Once again
the vigil went on.
Once again,
And then half the heard
turned out to sea
but the ones
who refused to be free
returned again
to the sand
as if some terminal
desire
moved them on.
Some lost their lives
to the deep and wild sea,
some lost their lives on the sand.
Now it's history.
Don't you understand?
If you do not launch out
into the deep,
the shallow sand's
suicide
is the only life you could keep.
They followed the leader to the sand.
To the slavery of the sand.
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Copyright and Phonorecord (c) (p) 1987 by Paul A. L. Hall. All rights reserved.