Lyrics to
CP Butchvarov
Crazy Fretboard Symphony
CP Butchvarov
Crazy Fretboard Symphony
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As Time Fell By I had the words I wanted to tell youThought of them all night Wrote them down to send to you In glaring black on white Tore my hair tore my paper Ink stains on my hands Watched the wind blow watched the sunrise Watched the slipping sands as time fell by My words growing dry Thought of how I used to see you Thought of summer days Thought of how I tried to write A song to fit your face Thought of how I never told you What I felt for you Thought of how you broke my heart And never even knew as time fell by My words always dry Words by John S Bowers Two Hearts Make A Pear The girls are doing fine living without the boysOn those long sultry evenings they’re better than toys Just slide right in make yourself at home There’s no finer place than your baby’s pleasure zone Keep the lights down low and the bedgear clean Light another candle for your hopes and dreams Don’t abandon hope that two hearts make a pear Try to see the humor in the angel’s lair The boys are doing fine living without the girls From barstool to park bench their flag unfurls Just step right up and turn your cheek Listen to the hawker begin his speech Have you got a quarter for a sad old man The crisis is in the calm and the wine’s so sweet Don’t abandon hope that two hearts make a pear Try to see the humor in the angel’s lair The girls don’t know how to deal with the boys The boys don’t know how to live with the girls The old folks sittin in their rocking chairs Sippin on tonics while exchanging stares The men in the street with the jackhammer smiles Whistle at the girls in the latest styles Born at dawn and brought to the crest Drowning in the wasteland at your behest Caught in a squeeze captured and caged Torn by the angry and enraged Sliding on the ice don’t break my knees Hold me in your arms I beg you please Don’t disengage now don’t walk away Follow me to the park where we will play Don’t abandon hope that two hearts make a pear Try to see the humor in the angel’s lair Words by CP Butchvarov Unopened Wine Silent sweetness is her methodShe lives between the lines Sunshine sugar with a cherry Fine unopened wine Simple pleasure is her virtue She’s the faithful type Sleeping in her apple orchard Fruit that’s almost ripe Dream in peace while flowers open Smile at what you see Wait for me and I will make you What you want to be Words by John S Bowers and CP Butchvarov Fleeting Sparrow There isn’t time to explain so leave it at thisIt’s all in your heart but it’s in your head When you think too much about it There’s no cause for alarm she’ll always be there She’s been tailor made to walk beside you But you can’t fall to despair Cause love is alive it’s as real as the day If you try to word it precisely the feeling goes away So dream all you want have patience and wait The clock ever ticks there’s no avoiding fate There isn’t room for doubt you gotta have love It’s here and it’s now it’s forever more It’s as free as the dove Ya build cages sublime it’s a comic scene As it’s unfolding tears keep falling Through the cosmic dream Cause love is alive it’s as real as the day If you try to word it precisely the feeling goes away So dream all you want have patience and wait The clock ever ticks there’s no avoiding fate Words by CP Butchvarov Bicycle Silver winged bicycle rides on the skyYou were so sure that it never would fly Pushin the pedals they’re turning the props Fall in the street if I ever once stop Earthbound and landlocked when just standing still Can only take off by careening downhill You’ll just have to wait till you hear the horn toot Wearing a helmet but no parachute The crows used to cackle when I’d crash in the corn Now I’m cruising at 55 feet Swoop through your ceiling like a king on the wing Eat up the traffic with hot oil and jam Higher than highways wherever I am Watch through your sunroof when I pass you by Might throw a beercan right into your eyes The French aviator in his flying peugeot Machine gunning TV antennas Ride on the wind like a bike out of hell Words by John S Bowers Dusty Road Dusty road to a golden citySt Anthony drew my maps Saying watch the sky for warnings Watch the road for traps Lay me down on a thistle bed A pouch of wine by my grateful head Wake tomorrow with roses in my shoes Move with dawn as grey as coal Haven’t seen the glitter yet Purify me at the river I’ll try to get my eyes wet Golden light on a dusty road Spread my arms up to the sky Plowed my land for 23 years Watched my spirit die Count the skulls along the highway Make the dawn turn blue Golden light on a dusty road Roses in my shoes Golden light on a dusty road Spread my arms up to the sky Plowed my land for 23 years Watched my spirit die Words by John S Bowers A Sunset Saga Walking through the woods at duskI heard their tiny foreign voices Singing drinking songs and slurping wine Elves they were with one brown mouse All dressed in finest elvin silk With belts of gold and finely polished blades Magic fire burned on the ground Which one bright lizard danced around A bag of gold lay open near a stone As I stared one elf looked up And saw my face behind a tree They doused their fires and vanished with the sun Words by John S Bowers Scene of the Time School was out and I had a planTo meet out west with my Sally Anne My driftweed tumble wild plains flower Climbing a rhyme she’s the scene of the time Through the fields of wheat and stars Hitched a road in those other cars Kept my dark dark glasses on Speed limit sign is the scene of the time Under hood we stirred the smoke Two crows played a cruel joke Wind and tires all rushing through Concrete sky and headlight moon Crazy fretboard symphony A sound you just can’t tune Found the star we’d wished upon But Sally Anne was long long gone We’re moving points on a painted line Trying to find the scene of the time Words by John S Bowers The Jump You rode a stolen white horseThrough the western night It’s tail flicked like electric Static charge in flight Your hat sailed off behind you Wind a taste of pine You ran gloved fingers over Saddle leather shine You thought you should wear six guns Thought you’d rob a stage The white legs raced to gallop Over rock and sage The sheriff heard the drumming beats Across the sand You led his black jeep into A glowing aspen stand His searchlight caught you jumping A log fence in it’s beam You cracked a solid pine rail The horse began to scream Words by John S Bowers Hot Rum And Plum Pudding A little hot rum a little plum puddingWear extra socks pull on the gloves Climb aboard the sleigh We’ll go for a ride in the snow Fill the gal’s glass with red red wine Show her love so fine She wants to explode in your arms Love every beast in a tinsel town Love every dog walkin your yard Love every kid as your own Don’t underestimate the power of love Don’t overestimate your god above Love the people on your very own street Do you love your mama Do you love your papa Do you love your sister Do you love your brother Do you love your friend Do you love yourself Flutter your eyelids wiggle your ass Wrap that scarf tight around your neck Feel the power and the glory Give that gal a kiss so warm Fetch the sailor out from the storm Give them what they want All they want’s A little hot rum a little plum pudding Wear extra socks pull on the gloves Climb aboard the sleigh We’ll go for a ride in the snow Do you love your mama Do you love your papa Do you love your sister Do you love your brother Do you love your friend Do you love yourself Words by CP Butchvarov Tar Machine The city’s heart was cold as deathIt’s blood was weak and sick and poor It’s broken bones were not replaced It’s mind was not worth working for So we vowed to get away And find out where the fields are green But first we had to fight our keeper Grapple with the ugly monster A stinking snaking grinding breaking Screeching slashing burning trashing tar machine We walked away and then we ran Gasping with our heavy load The mutant box caught up in Kansas On a cracked and dying road It unleashed its primal fury Strong it was and looking mean In suits of steel we slipped its grip Throwing sand and screaming curses At a screeching slashing burning trashing Stinking snaking grinding breaking tar machine Words by John S Bowers Dark Sullen Streets These are dark sullen streetsThey all end at the tracks And these castles and mansions Hurt more than a sleazy shack Got a powerful mind Full of shafts and diseases Got ten flighty fingers And a pen that still writes Got a loud old guitar And I hate everybody Hate to work hate to think Hate to sing the blues So I live in the daytime But I get strange at night Walk in the valleys Cause I fly in the heights Got a home in my city And I laugh at my people Got eyes in the future A grip on the past Got some spooky ideas Love every minute Love to laugh and love the life Love to sing the blues Words by John S Bowers Mountain Country Mountain country I’m on my wayMy feet can hear your melody I feel it in my bones as I reach out To touch you there so tenderly A stream so swift Dewdrops upon my doorstep Why did I wander away for so long Can see it in your skies as I walk along This windswept highway A dream to be lived and a crystal compass To navigate this twisted path Rare sights kiss My thoughts in ecstatic endlessness Yes but it’s true I could lose my way Water so sparkling and clean Starlight so sharp and serene Birds that reach for that perfect fluttering trill All my thoughts have grown dull and my diamonds are flawed But the highlands always bring me back to the thrill Mountain country your veins run pure I drink your streams adoringly My vision is clear and I see your soul Expanding towards infinity Life so green Calling as if from an ancient dream Sing and I’ll write the words to your song At the peak you’ll find The air so clear that it shines Your mind can only ripple out and be still Oh I’ll carry scars from valleys I’ve known But the highlands always bring me back to the thrill Words by John S Bowers and CP Butchvarov |
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