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Celia WOODSMITH

AVI & CELIA

Pipes

C. Woodsmith

 

 

Pipes are a knockin'

all along my floor,

holler and wail like no sound I heard before.

Oh, the sun is kissin' up the sky,

as I linger longing through the night.

 

Where did you leave from? 

I didn't hear the door,

just a rustle in the bed-sheets

and a creek in the floor.

Oh, you were nothing but a sigh,

as I linger longing through the night.

 

One drop of honey from last night,

still on my fingertip,

and you leave me limp like you did all the other times.

 

Now she's a risin', up in the east,

but no light of day will take that longing from me,

and oh, that smooth almond of your eyes.

As I linger longing through the night.

Zephyr

C. Woodsmith

 

 

Oil Dereck Pumping Stone,

nothing flows here anymore.

Fields of grass cover up

soil turned to rust.

 

By the bond of my skin

my work has bound me to shift,

I'll live my day as she comes

oh I'll rise up with the sun.

 

Simple life,

pieces of a melody,

let it rise.

 

I hear the tracks before I see

that Southern Rail passing by

over the water,

by the Ash trees,

I'm simple but I'm free.

 

Chorus

 

Western Wind

Pulling me

to live my life as I breathe,

I found the puzzle that fits my piece

I'm simple but I'm free.

 

Chorus

 

Seven Years

C. Woodsmith

 

 

Collect my 20 bills and walk on down the road.

Jukebox played its last for me, a sad song so I'm told.

I've felt sorrow before, but not a tide like this.

All that I have left now is clenched between my fists.

 

Going home, holdin' on, going home.

 

Bus rides heavy on my eyes today,

I worked the late night shift, just so I'd sleep all day.

Lukewarm coffee mingles with my mind,

my thoughts are broken, like the hours that I spent tryin'

 

Going home, holdin' on, going home.

 

Called my Momma, got her outta bed,

its been so long, just like i was dead.

The voice that I remembered still sounded the same,

since seven years ago, when I let go my name.

 

Going home, holdin' on, going home.

 

The bus to Tryon gets in late,

I'll walk to the house, stand by the gate.

I know that you're awake when I get inside,

I know you made the bed and drew the curtains tight.

 

Going home, holdin' on, going home.

Ivory Bones

C. Woodsmith

 

Dead stare, rocking chair

under eyes of a demon's glare,

cork the bottle, holds the drink,

our skin is thick but our bones are weak.

 

There is a river, flows in Hades

thick with oil, past iron gates.

When I die sink me low, 

so I can hear that river flow.

 

Bare feet on a crooked path,

if you run you won't be last,

but as you run it passes by,

the blue that has become the sky.

 

The demons won't come in the night,

they move slowly in the light.

Watch them as they pass on through,

and then we'll all wonder who?

 

We run from those fingers that grab us in the night,

oh, those ivory bones,

but we can see this coming and we turn off the light,

and it moans.

 

The sky is red with the dawn,

the ice it melts, the forests burn,

the danger we are told to fear,

distracts us from the grinding gears.

 

Hold that flag to the sky,

but see the coffins and the lies,

we can get out there is still time,

we watch that bird a dyin' in the mine.

 

We run from those fingers that grab us in the night,

oh, those ivory bones,

but we can see this coming and we turn off the light,

and it moans.