In the Valley Below
Home ] Up ] All of the Obvious ] How Do You Start With Nothing? ] Insomniak Beacon ] Instinct Suicide ] In the Humor of a Bard ] [ In the Valley Below ] Jones Screamed ] Locked Razor ] Rugged Comprehension ] Run, City Man! ] The Flatland is Man's Land ] The Green Hills of Dawn ] The Nightingale ] The Northwest Passage ] The Rich Man and the Poor Man ] The Shocked Confidents ] The Star Stream Ride ] The Time Bends in the Distance ] They Would Happy Be the Ones ] Torrential Time ] Window Mind Frost Design ] Your Painless Way ] A SEA SONG, PART 1 ] A SEA SONG, PART 2 ] A SEA SONG, PART 3 ] A SEA SONG, PART 4 ] Most Music Just a Hustle ] Most Tympani is a Big Trick ] Music is Still in the Dark Ages ] A Good Folk Tune ]
 

The Valley Below

A song written by Paul Hall at a café outside of Gare De L'Est, Paris, in 1980.  (c) 1987.

16kps mp3.

 

The leaves in the wind

mixed with songs of the birds

and the glow of the warmth

of the sun on the trees

speak the words

I would know

but the shades

pass so slow,

and at sunset

they wither

in the valley below.

 

In the valley below,

the valley below,

shades pass at sunset

like vapors so slow.

Like thousands of faces

from crushed calcare cliffs

of a great concrete scrap-heap.

Tell me, where do they go,

If you might know, sir,

in the valley below?

 

In the late afternoon

I have learned

by the side

of the fountains of waters

as by me they would glide.

And the sun sets so slow.

And beyond, in the glow

of the blue and the red

there's a lily white moon

and a neighboring planet

hanging high overhead.

 

In the valley below,

the valley below,

shades pass at sunset

like vapors so slow.

Like thousands of faces

from crushed calcare cliffs

of a great concrete scrap-heap.

Tell me, where do they go,

If you might know, sir,

in the valley below?

 

Good times seem so brief.

On the streets

I must meet

with hundreds of faces

from non-descript places

built of calcium crushed

from some cliff 

in the brush.

The grief

of their paces

asks me so slow,

"Where do we come from

and where do we go?"

 

In the valley below,

the valley below,

shades pass at sunset

like vapors so slow.

Like thousands of faces

from crushed calcare cliffs

of a great concrete scrap-heap.

Tell me, where do they go,

If you might know, sir,

in the valley below?

 

And I sing them my song

beside the old railroad track.

I said, "I'll ask one

who's been there

and then

has come back.

He said,

"The people are running.

They are tired.

They are scared.

They go to

the scrap-heap

except they're repaired.

 

In the valley below,

the valley below,

shades pass at sunset

like vapors so slow.

Like thousands of faces

from crushed calcare cliffs

of a great concrete scrap-heap.

and that's where you will go

unless you're repaired quick

in the valley.

The valley below.

 

 



Click on any of the following to go there:

Click on any of the following to go there:

The Paul Hall art home page

The Music home page

The Music directory

 

Copyright and Phonorecord (c) (p) 1987 by Paul A. L. Hall.  All rights reserved.

 

Hit Counter