images carved in stone
peter j stein, 2014
v. 1
i sifted through the wreckage of time,
I couldn't decide what relics were mine,
my mind is cluttered with images, carved in stone.
v. 2
the winds of change erase all the years,
cascading down - it all disappears,
on my window sill, the question still of what really remains.
v. 3
we met in the city, in little Italy,
I was stunned to learn as she spoke so bitterly,
of what happened to her, since we had last met.
v. 4
she confessed that her marriage had died,
their love had withered since he had injured her pride,
he had lied to her, would not compromise, and now he’s gone.
(INSTRUMENTAL - 8 measures))
v. 5
she felt like a stranger within her own home,
no voice of her own, (and now she’s alone),
she's trapped inside of herself, with no one to turn to.
v. 6
when summer ends as the air blows cool,
the Fall winds whisper that the kids are in school,
the Winter arrives, and the plants can’t survive in the cold.
v. 7
as the ice melts away and it’s early Spring,
the flowers sing of what Summer may bring,
the warm air rushes in, and the circle of life begins again.
INSTRUMENTAL - (MAIN)
v. 8
with the passage of years the truth becomes frozen,
like the deadness of Winter, adrift on the ocean,
but now so alive, and ready to dive into love again.
v. 9
no one can hinder the hands of time,
as they march in step on the face of a clock,
as your hands touch mine, you are my rock, and together we climb.
v. 10
too often i wonder at 3 am
before the light dawns, i am here with my pen,
i need you beside me in order to guide me through.
v. 11
the passage of time may be an illusion,
wine and satin…confusion, like a drunken clown,
you’re breaking down my reality.
v.12
you were starving for love, your tickets were stolen
dejected and broke, both your ankles were swollen,
with your ear to the ground, straining to hear from the lost and found.
(INSTRUMENTAL)
v. 13
a voice from the past, a prayer for the future,
maybe vishnu, or freud, or ginsberg, or buddha,
but it’s nothing more, than the echo of your, choices you’ve made.
v.14
the sins of time wipe out all traces,
of those left behind, cannot see their faces,
they vanish inside the darkness of night, like a shooting star.
v.15
sifted through the wreckage of time,
I couldn't decide what relics were mine,
my mind is cluttered with images, that are carved in stone.
(repeat last line and fade)
peter j stein, 2014
v. 1
i sifted through the wreckage of time,
I couldn't decide what relics were mine,
my mind is cluttered with images, carved in stone.
v. 2
the winds of change erase all the years,
cascading down - it all disappears,
on my window sill, the question still of what really remains.
v. 3
we met in the city, in little Italy,
I was stunned to learn as she spoke so bitterly,
of what happened to her, since we had last met.
v. 4
she confessed that her marriage had died,
their love had withered since he had injured her pride,
he had lied to her, would not compromise, and now he’s gone.
(INSTRUMENTAL - 8 measures))
v. 5
she felt like a stranger within her own home,
no voice of her own, (and now she’s alone),
she's trapped inside of herself, with no one to turn to.
v. 6
when summer ends as the air blows cool,
the Fall winds whisper that the kids are in school,
the Winter arrives, and the plants can’t survive in the cold.
v. 7
as the ice melts away and it’s early Spring,
the flowers sing of what Summer may bring,
the warm air rushes in, and the circle of life begins again.
INSTRUMENTAL - (MAIN)
v. 8
with the passage of years the truth becomes frozen,
like the deadness of Winter, adrift on the ocean,
but now so alive, and ready to dive into love again.
v. 9
no one can hinder the hands of time,
as they march in step on the face of a clock,
as your hands touch mine, you are my rock, and together we climb.
v. 10
too often i wonder at 3 am
before the light dawns, i am here with my pen,
i need you beside me in order to guide me through.
v. 11
the passage of time may be an illusion,
wine and satin…confusion, like a drunken clown,
you’re breaking down my reality.
v.12
you were starving for love, your tickets were stolen
dejected and broke, both your ankles were swollen,
with your ear to the ground, straining to hear from the lost and found.
(INSTRUMENTAL)
v. 13
a voice from the past, a prayer for the future,
maybe vishnu, or freud, or ginsberg, or buddha,
but it’s nothing more, than the echo of your, choices you’ve made.
v.14
the sins of time wipe out all traces,
of those left behind, cannot see their faces,
they vanish inside the darkness of night, like a shooting star.
v.15
sifted through the wreckage of time,
I couldn't decide what relics were mine,
my mind is cluttered with images, that are carved in stone.
(repeat last line and fade)