Cry

written by S.A. Wolfe

When you can’t describe it – 

The pain that you feel, 

That’s when you know 

That the love it was real. 

Everything’s changing 

Like has always been true – 

The moon and the tides; 

The heartbreak and you. 

There’s nothing that can be done. 

There’s no one to fight. 

No use trying to run, 

No point in trying to hide. 

All you can do is cry. 

Cry Cry Cry Cry. 

I know you’re hurting, 

But that’s all I can say. 

Because you know 

That we don’t all hurt the same way. 

But we’re all in the same boat, 

Down this river we go. 

And you’ve got to find your way 

To get back into the flow. 

I’ll give you cover, 

If it makes you feel shy, 

And when there comes another 

Sad goodbye 

Know that I got you 

And know that you always can cry. 

Cry Cry Cry 

Cry Cry Cry Cry 

Nobody wants that part, 

But everyone needs to love. 

So you open up your heart, 

But sometimes the pain is too much. 

You know that you should 

And I wish that you would 

I’m telling you the truth 

That it just feels so good when you cry.

 

Truck Drivin Man 

written by Mark Mann 

Walked a step behind her 

In her mind her soul’s a thunder bird 

Eaten by coyotes in the desert by the drinking water 

Walked and talked and wondered 

In her mind she’s high above the world 

High above the ashes of the trade that he handcrafted for her. 

That old truck drivin man 

Didn’t walk beside her 

In his mind he’d soon divide her 

Beaten like scatterbones and laid out on the pavement 

Taken through Corinthians 

Defeated by Egyptians 

Better get old Nat in here 

The lizard’s in the kitchen 

Walked and talked and wondered 

Now she’s dolled up in her turquoise best 

Never saw it coming or the gun next to the man beside her 

She walked and talked and wondered 

In her mind her soul’s a thunderbird 

Eaten by coyotes in the desert by the shifting sands 

Lightning turned to thunder 

Soon the rigor mortis sets on in 

Threw her in a grave behind the shiny new convention center 

She walked and talked and wondered 

In her mind her mind her soul’s a thunderbird 

Eaten by coyotes in the desert by the drinking water 

Take me down where the truck went dead 

I was just about to call you 

There’s a special bond between a momma and a daughter 

Taken down by your intuition and a broken bottle 

A trucker’s intuition was the reason I was stuck down there. 

 

The Moon is Going Down 

written by Ryan B. Case 

Lost in a feeling that's fleeting 

Like all desperate moments in time 

They're changing the lies they're repeating 

The naked are leading the blind 

The ghosts in the trees have all vanished 

and no one can say where they've gone 

The old men are screaming in Spanish 

while their children go chasing the dawn 

Still you look like this angel before me 

and I find hopefulness I've never known 

and the moon is going down so slow. 

Outside these walls of resistance 

they're all arguing about the cost 

while an old woman off in the distance 

sings you cannot replace what is lost 

the silence is somewhat surprising 

oh, the dance of the whole damned affair 

red eyes meet orange horizons 

choking and gasping for air 

The ending is anticlimactic 

as endings so often are 

the voice through the radio static 

calls it the death of a falling star 

Yet you look like this angel before me 

and I find hopefulness I've never known 

and the moon is going down so slow.

 

Late Nite Radio 

Written by S.A. Wolfe 

Keep it in between the lines. 

Hold on, this will all be over soon. 

Billboard ads and exit signs 

hide the careless yellow moon. 

I won’t forget the lake house. 

Please don’t forget the Coney Island song 

I’ll just go shut the lights out. 

I’ll always want you. I’ve wanted you all along. 

Late Nite Radio 

Play a song I know 

So I can sing along 

So I can pretend that I’ve done nothing wrong. 

I won’t regret the movies. 

Please don’t regret you gave me Beauregard. 

I know it’s all so confusing, 

but I never meant to hurt him. I know you never mean to break my heart. 

Late Nite Radio 

Play a song she knows 

So she can sing along 

So she can pretend that she’s done nothing wrong. 

Late Nite Radio 

Play a song we know 

So we can sing along 

So we can pretend 

 

So Purple  

Written by S.A. Wolfe and Seth Fox 

Red and blue 

It’s a simple combination but a different radiation from 

Me and you 

When we strip away the egos and through the forest we goes 

Dancing like kids in the rain 

Seeing through the pleasure and pain 

to the truth that’s always been 

You and I could be so purple 

You and I could be so purple 

Pulling away 

Like a shift from where you’re standing but your zenith is demanding of you 

Everyday 

Coming and going from the River that keeps flowing 

Out in the ocean to dissipate 

Up in the sky to precipitate 

then we start all over again 

You and I could be so purple 

You and I could be so purple 

You and me 

on a circle not a ribbon with no need to be forgiven baby 

can’t you see 

that the wall is an illusion and it’s causing us confusion 

we’re just holding on to a lie 

thinking it helps us to get by 

But when we let go and get it right 

You and I will be so purple 

You and I will be so purple

 

Paper Piano 

(S.A. Wolfe & A. Lott) 

Every good boy does a little bit better 

when they practice their scales after school. 

And every little girl’s got nothing left to wear, 

and who could ever know that you’re cool. 

Hair always tangled, fingers always crossed. 

Stars always spangled, eyes always lost. 

She wrote the keys on the door. 

She spilled the cookies on the floor. 

And did you never play a Paper Piano? 

And did you never ride a bike with no wheels? 

Did you never use a milk jug for a baseball glove? 

Could you ever know how happiness feels? 

Everybody knows when you ain’t got nothing 

that you ain’t got nothing to fear. 

I put on my Liberties and grab a good book, 

get on my best mule and ride outta here. 

Oranges on the TV screen, cigarettes on the porch 

Sunday dress on a sewing machine, braided mane on a horse. 

Go on and dye your blood blood red. 

I’m gonna hunt us down some water and bread. 

And did you never play a Paper Piano? 

And did you never ride a bike with no wheels? 

Did you never use a milk jug for a baseball glove? 

Could you ever know how happiness feels? 

They could put a fence around anything. 

It’s just a matter of posts. 

You could put your butter on my guitar strings, 

but that ain’t gonna make them toast. 

I’m gonna fall down a wishing well. 

I’m gonna get me a whole buncha change. 

I’m gonna burn down that old pawn shop 

and fall asleep in the rain. 

And did you never play a Paper Piano? 

And did you never love a man before me? 

Because I never knew a damn thing til I saw you smile, 

and I never knew how good it could be. 

 

 

Carpenter 

(S.A. Wolfe) 

You said you thought you kinda loved me. 

That’s something I don’t think I could help. 

Now you’re drunk at my bar with another homeless Nashville rock star 

And I wish you’d just go somewhere else. 

Cos Christ knows you bring out the worst in me, 

so I don’t know why you’re so surprised. 

Cos I don’t really know what happened here. 

I have no excuse for my behavior. 

But I was never much of a carpenter. 

I wouldn’t make you much of a savior. 

You got some good things going for you 

underneath your empty swimming pool eyes. 

You got a blank check torn up in your smile, 

like the most believable of your lies. 

And Christ knows that I’ve let you down again, 

but I can’t be on the cross tonight. 

Cos I don’t really know what happened here. 

I have no excuse for my behavior. 

But I was never much of a carpenter. 

I wouldn’t make you much of a savior. 

And Christ knows we’ve all been betrayed by a kiss. 

Ah, but maybe, baby, I’m just too human for all of this. 

Cos I don’t really know what happened here. 

I have no excuse for my behavior. 

But I was never much of a carpenter. 

I wouldn’t make you much of a savior. 

 

 

Dirty Girl 

(S.A. Wolfe) 

Dirty Girl, Dirty Girl, come with me to New Orleans. 

We’ll go on down to Oxford Square 

at Christmas time and see ol’ Jimbo there. 

Then at the Graduate, you gon and messed up my hair. 

Say, do you remember what we did in Oxford Square? 

Dirty Girl, Dirty Girl, come with me to New Orleans. 

We’ll stop off round bout old Clarksdale 

at the Repass, where everybody’s dressed so well. 

Razorblade and Shankerman and Kings for Sale 

Ain’t nothing we can do, it’s all for the family now, in old Clarksdale. 

Dirty Girl, Dirty Girl, come with me to New Orleans. 

Take me out in Jackson town 

to The Underground with Mr. Nutty Brown, 

F.Jones and tired bones and rain falling down. 

Hey, don’t tell nobody what we did in Jackson town. 

Dirty Girl, Dirty Girl, come with me to New Orleans. 

When we get there we’ll get some Good Voodoo 

Some tasso and trombone, some gator too. 

Ah, you know I took the long way home like I always do. 

846 miles in a rental car with me, the Pope, and you. 

 

 

About My Falling 

(S.A. Wolfe) 

the right thing to say 

just a few days too late 

and again your grace is shown 

water displacement 

a print for The Basement 

and the cover of a standard is blown 

and I prefer to have my dinner for lunch 

and dessert when I start 

and I prefer to use the metric system 

when it comes to matters of the heart 

but you broke all my beakers apart 

and I’ve misplaced my conversion chart 

liquid antibiotics 

cough suppressing narcotics 

holding court at the mission on my birthday 

pedialite and cigarettes 

bags full of cash and regrets 

with a good faith mistake what is there to say 

and I’d like to think that my problems 

come down to ambition more than facility 

and I’d like to think that my falling 

is just a natural decline in my mobility 

but that would excuse me from my own scrutiny 

so that this might go on into perpetuity 

 

 

Cemetery Blues 

(B.W. Goodwin Jr.) 

I can’t shake you and your 

Cemetery Blues. 

I tried to sleep but you’re eating me alive. 

I can’t miss you. 

Don’t miss me. 

It’s hard to leave when you can’t be seen. 

I’d be alright if I could sleep through the night, 

and not wake up to tell you 

I’d be ok if I could walk through the day. 

I’d be just fine if I could keep you alive. 

 

 

Mrs. Ernst’s Piano 

(M.J. West) 

The neighborhood was changing. 

They say it was going down. 

They were putting up new houses east of town. 

Now, Mrs. Ernst gave piano lessons Sunday afternoons 

to the children of the neighborhood. She’d teach simple tunes. 

At the old pianola, they’d hammer and they’d pound, 

while Mrs. Ernst’s husband read the paper with a frown. 

Mrs. Ernst had a visit from a neighbor, Mr. Gunn. 

Mr. Gunn wanted piano lessons for his son. 

Mrs. Ernst said “I must think it over.” He asked her “Why?” 

She said “I have my reasons, sir. Thank you, and goodbye.” 

Mrs. Ernst’s husband, he had fixed views. 

He saw the world as black and white, and he saw no subtler hues. 

Mr. Gunn was surely black, but Mrs. Ernst, she thought 

“A child is a child, and children should be taught.” 

So that evening Mrs. Ernst asked her husband if she might 

give piano lessons to a black child. “Surely it’d be alright.” 

Mr. Ernst answered her in no uncertain terms 

“Over my dead body!” said Mr. Ernst. 

“Over my dead body!” Mr. Ernst replied. 

“Over my dead body!” he said, and soon after, he died. 

Now, Mrs. Ernst, a widow, did what must be done, 

and gave piano lessons to Mr. Gunn’s son. 

Now Mrs. Ernst still gives piano lessons Sunday afternoons 

at the old pianola in her living room. 

While Mrs. Ernst’s husband looks down at her from a frame, 

and she knows he wouldn’t like it, but she does it all the same. 

 

 

Fault Lines 

(E.H. Puckett) 

Running north to south I promise you 

when you’re just west of The Great Divide. 

And is your heart and mind reminding you 

you were better off alive? 

Love is the real that’s sentimental 

when you’re trapped behind your new found walls. 

And I’m not getting any better. 

In fact, I can barely move at all. 

You break a promise that you never made at all. 

San Andreas, hell, I guess it’s not your fault. 

Oh, you remap the landscape, 

but then you float into the sea. 

While you reshape the Cascade Mountains, 

and there’s nothing I can do but leave you be. 

I guess we both knew this would happen. 

I should have known what you would say. 

But beneath your trembling depths, there’s heaven. 

And it’s strange now, all I can do is look away. 

You break a promise that you never made at all. 

San Andreas, hell, I guess it’s not your fault. 

 

 

Steel Wires 

(S.A. Wolfe & A. Lott) 

The world walks all over you 

You walk all over me. 

I’m a beggar that you’re kind to. 

And fear is an ocean, 

so stay on the island. 

and every time you talk, 

Your conversations turn into tragedies. 

The old car cleans up nice. 

And marriage turns men into butlers. 

Love is just a clay pot 

in a burned down New Orleans hotel. 

Steel Wires could open the door. 

Set fire to fire, and push me back again. 

Your tragedies become mere dinner talk 

Nobody’s horse is gonna live forever. 

And I’m a schoolboy, mister, play me a cover song. 

But this was not my decision, 

so don’t ask have I changed my mind. 

Steel Wires could open the door. 

Set fire to fire, and push me back again. 

The Bluesman plays The River. 

The walls bleed black with mold. 

And Jazz is always running out of incense. 

And politics will be. 

Hang a flag on your window, 

put the blood over the door. 

Steel Wires could open the door. 

Set fire to fire and push me back again. 

Light your cigars and stare at my wife. 

Drink your poison. 

Enjoy my life. 

 

 

O’ Magnolia 

(S.A. Wolfe) 

O’ Magnolia, it’s long past time to change your regalia. 

But keep the blue for the Scottish Seas, and for the warm gulf breeze. 

Stubborn as it may be, keep the blue for the bravery. 

Discard the stars and bars you hid behind when you meant slavery. 

O’ Magnolia 

O’ Magnolia, keep the red for the warnings we need: 

the hurricanes and hunger and heat, and the blood and lessons of defeat. 

See the bright and shining stars for what they really are, 

and from where they truly come – from the fertile earth of our hearts. 

O’ Magnolia 

O’ Magnolia, you are not just the crimes of you fathers. 

And until you forgive yourself, you will never know all your wealth. 

But the world will embrace your new display, and cheer you on towards a new day 

to grow strong and sound with your roots in the ground, with your trunk and your 

branches the only Gray. 

O’ Magnolia 

O’ Magnolia, let the white that you pride be your Petals. 

But keep the blue for the Choctaw tears, and know redemption will still take years. 

Painful as it may be, keep the red and its strength to remind 

Unlock the chains you’ve kept your mighty hills and trees and rivers behind 

and be free. 

O’ Magnolia