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Em Am C B7
That’s my friend apocalyptic Paul
He keeps on yelling that the walls are gonna fall
We can’t go out anywhere at all
He scares the children at the shopping mall
That’s my friend apocalyptic paul
Throwing small potatoes against the city hall
He’s a one man picket line on strike against time
Wherever he may go I’ve got to make it rhyme
G C
He’s in a parallel universe
Wearing his shoes is a sacrifice
Am. D. G -
I held a union between the supermarket aisles
EM. B M Bm em
Paul said, “that’s right baby,
Em. Am
baby you’ve got the goods”
they kicked us out but we made the customers smile
That’s my friend apocalyptic Paul
He’s upright and he’s handsome, he’s good and he is tall
He wears a smile, a sackcloth and a shawl
He works well with his hands, and he loves playing ball
I’m a tired fish in a firmament sky. G Gm
Tired of the echoes of the questions asking why. C Cdmin, B7
Everything’s together in the gumbo of my mind Bb Am
Folklore and laundry, legacy and frisbee Fdmin E7 C D
and the clatter of the chatter and headlines of th time G am Bb D
G. G#/ E7 am D7
And the frisbee I keep with me in my car!
We stop at the beach and we run along the shore
And with a flick of the wrist we make that disk fly!
And it flies through the sky
And it touches down light
In your hands
G Em C D
That’s my friend apocalyptic Paul
He keeps on yelling that the walls are gonna fall
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2. |
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I am Judas son/ and won't you hear my plea/ I know what Daddy's done and I don't know what will come of me/ I barely knew the man from Galilee
I am Judas' son and my sister she is here with me/ we have nowhere to run and it's hard to find some sympathy/ I don't know who I should believe
I've heard my father called a traitor/ I've heard him called a hero too/ but most would rather he forgotten/ I don't know what to trust as true
My father's arm was severed by the blade of a Roman sword/ I saw him bleeding naked in a gutter on the street/ while a beggar in his clothes hanged off of a tree
I am Judas son/ though I never asked to be/ I am the son of Judas a footnote to my father's history
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3. |
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They put a dollar store where there used to be an old theatre (greek theatre)
The ceiling is painted with legionnaires, in gold and silver (mythological figures)
There’s a rattling fan above the balcony (coming from the rafters)
radio playing john mellencamp
Balloons on ceiling saying happy birthday and felicidades
smiling yellow faces Next to the ancient
masks of comedy and tragedy
And i go there when I’m feeling lonely
Or thinking about my days of glory
Hungover or over myself completely
Feeling like a dollar store where there once was more
in the aisleways we’re on the stage of some strange play
Buying peanut butter, And minute maid and garbage bags
and greetings seem to come a little more friendly
than the other places I go shopping
and conversation flows more easy
maybe cause it seems we’re in the same scene
so I go...
Maybe all of us came to shop in our faded dreams
with the ambitions of our youth becoming something cheap
palmolive for a dollar, or a big bag of chips, theyve even got bananas,some fresh groceries
and a sign on the wall
open nine days a week
and I go
dreamed of something else for ourselves
Or maybe some of us had nothing else to dream at all
Still, i like it well
The 99 cent store hollowed out of a greek theatre
It’s a little like me
We both feel short of our old dreams
It’s got what I need
Groceries for the week
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4. |
Steps of St. Joseph
04:51
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St Joseph St Joseph, on the steps of your stairs I am folding my hands I am praying
my mind is so busy and my world is so noisy
I just cannot hear what you’re saying
for my night’s have been weary
and my eyes have been bleary
with my fears on the path I am taking
and I’d like to turn back but it’s after the fact and I’m watching my mask as it’s breaking
when I see there’s a man and he must’ve come round when my eyes were closed for he’s sitting
with his back to the tree and he looks over to me
and he offers the bread that he’s eating
and he gives me a smile when we meet eyes and he says his name’s Juan in his greeting
and that this is his home and he’s never alone out on these streets where he’s sleeping
and when he looks up at the stars up above he can trave out a cross in the night sky
and so he sleeps sound knowing he’s loved, by Jesus the saints and the most high
Saint Joseph, Saint Joseph with an ounce of your faith I feel I’d be okay and I know that so much would be different
but many are called and few will respond and now I feel that my faith’s non-existent
but looking at Juan and feeling at one there’s a grace in his eyes that he’s sharing
though hardship may come each ray of the sun brings the joy that the Angels are weeping
and we carry on when our moment is done
I go my way and Juan stays with his back to the tree and looking at me
he silently says “keep the faith”
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C.D. Onofrio Niagara Falls, Ontario
"troubadour wearing a crown of fire".
Imperfect music for imperfect
people
Award winnning songwriter and published poet. Songs for dreamers, contemplative dancers, broken romantics, laughing lunatics, seekers, souls with hard spots to reach, and anyone else who can give these songs a home.
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