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The story is told of the power of gold and its lure on the unsuspecting
It glitters and shines, it badgers and blinds
And constantly needs protecting
Balance the cost of the soul you lost with the dreams you lightly sold
Are you under…the power of gold
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That’s a part of the plan
Await your arrival with simple survival
And one day we’ll all understand
And here is a sunrise to set on your sill
The ghosts of the dawn moving near
They pass through your sorrow and leave you quite still…
Sitting among souvenirs
My brothers’ lives were different for they heard another call
One went to Chicago and the other to St Paul
And I’m in Colorado when I’m not in some hotel
Living out this life I’ve chose and have come to know so well
I thank you for the music and your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom when it came my time to go
I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don’t think I said ‘I love you’ near enough The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man
I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band
There’s a ring around the moon tonight and a chill in the air
And a fire in the stars that hang so near, so near
There’s a sound in the wind that blows through the wild mountain holds
Like the sighs of a thousand crying souls, crying souls
There’s a time when the traveler is fated to find
That insight has turned his gaze behind, behind
And the steps taken yesterday will beckon again
And lead to his weary journey’s end, his journey’s end
I will die by a river as it rolls away
Bury me in the nighttime…do not waste the day
High above the waters that roll on to the sea
All the angels in heaven will laugh at me
They will laugh at me….they will laugh at me
They will laugh at me
Through the years as the fire starts to mellow
Burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow
I’ll be in love with you………..I’ll be in love with you
Funny how the circle turns around
First you’re up and then you’re down again
Though the circle takes what it may give
Each time around it makes it live again
Funny how the circle is a wheel
And it can steal someone who is a friend
Funny how the circle takes you flying
And if it’s right it brings it back again
There’s a magic every moment
There’s a miracles each day
There’s a magic every moment
Oh won’t you let the music play
Oh won’t you let the music play
My life was naught but a river rolling through my brain
Made of so many teardrops…made of so much pain And I will always see you dancing through my dreams
And as hopeless as it seems, I will always love you
And now if you think we’ve said it all
Let the final curtain fall on us at last
And just put it in the past and say our last farewell
I take my place along the shore and I wait for the tide
It seems I’ve passed this way before in an earlier time
To every man the mystery sings a different song
He fills his page of history, dreams his dreams and is gone
Goodbye to a man that influenced and taught me the art of a song comes from the emotion within and the story told.
Have you always wondered how Christmas and Santa Claus or St. Nick ever came to be linked within the same holiday?
The Dutch began the legend of Saint Nicholas, in fact Santa Claus comes from the pronunciation of Sint Nikolass. As the myth and story goes, he was a bishop in the early part of 300 AD. The color of the cloak of his hierarchy became the fur trimmed red suit that our Jolly Old Man with the white beard now wears outside of each Walmart. The legend has it that he saved three daughters of a pauper from a forced life of prostitution by throwing a bag of gold coins through a window of the man who kidnapped them for his evil purposes, as a dowry for each woman. That act of kindness set them free to return to their father. The story made its way through the country and I’m sure there are many variations on it. On his feast day December sixth, the custom of giving gifts in remembrance of his unselfish act began long after he died. Now you know how a Dutch ritual became a worldwide phenomena. One never knows how things that we do end up in mythological ways as to be metamorphosized in such a worldwide celebration. Random acts of kindness pay huge dividends perhaps not to the originator but the “paying it forward” of such deeds is what we all should strive for not just during the holiday season, but every day.
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