Saturday, December 9, 2017

Georgia Snow World

I think I heard of a one-inch prediction of snow to close out the fall season in Northwest Georgia?

By comparison, what we got was epic!
For one, actually watching it snow is a tranquil delight. It's practically never enough to be huge danger...just enough to make things pretty.
I caught the early snowfall:
My first pic holds a special place in my memories, how it captures the occasion. Plus, hey I wasnt cold yet, and how cool to catch a view from the front door I'll always remember?
Then I roamed a bit:
And of course, Captain Fantastic, an avid window watcher, got an eyefull of what went drifting by.

I will have so many more pictures for you once my wife figures out how to send them from her tablet (tech difficulties tonight)-ah, here comes a few right now!


And here's her shots and mine of our neighborhood, with more to come:

I'm taping some childrens' music. Would you believe I wrote two Frosty-lyric parodies the day before all that snow came east to dump over half a foot more powder than expected? You can't waste an opportunity like that. Sychronicity! I watched it snow while working on an interview for BAck Issue magazine, regarding Marvel Con '75. Harold Parker and I had a good time; this was my fourth call related to the article and the 3rd to yield many paragraphs of memories, including bumping right into Marvel geniuses Stan Lee and Roy Thomas. Then my wife and I watched it snow 'til dark, with occasional glimpses out into the night air to watch the persistent precipitation.

Next day, 8 am:

Wendy at FRed's playfully asked me to build them a snow man, so on that same morning walk, I did the best I could by hand:
So there's FRed the Snowman, complete with a Monster drink can Crystal F. found for him. Too bad he was facing East...he was a Slushee by noon!
Since I'd caught the mood, though, I decided to provide our household with a badminton player to stand by our front yard net.

He ends up with a cowboy hat, as featured in the "Midnight Rider" snowman remix. You'll see.

I've had such serious subjects in mind for the blog this week, things that required thorough thought to achieve fairness. But you know? This is so much more universal in its own way. I'm kinda glad this became my next post instead.



All the best. Be Chill...very chill!
Cease ill



Tuesday, December 5, 2017

It's the music of Creating Marvels, by Integr8d Soul!


All right! In the better late-than-never dept., I managed to overlook loading this up for Angela's birthday, which I did at least celebrate with her in fun fashion. AT the time I wanted to make good use of my podcast space while I was waiting to hear from more guests, so I put together a way you could hear the songs I use for my drops. My Pro Tools set-up, long-promised, should be ready this month, and then you'll get to hear everything in higher fidelity. Then wait til we take it into the studio early next year...
HEre's the direct download code:

Anyway, enjoy the songs.

Be Chill, Cease ill

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Cecil Louis Disharoon, Rest In Peace


Cecil Louis Disharoon, Rest In Peace

Two hours from now will mark 10 years my Dad died. I am sure he was flawed even in ways that didn’t directly affect my life, but I can’t help thinking what a good man he was- what a good man he tried to be. He may well have voted for...shall we say, someone who's never staffed a full State Department-but I can well see Dad and I go around on this one: me explaining how hard it’d be to strike North Korea’s nuclear capacity before Seoul’s an ancient city-turned-vapor, how I hope, if nothing else, the desire to live and at least be greedy would prevent everyone with a nuclear button from instigating annihilation that might prevent these and all other humble words from finding another generation of humanity to read them. We may already have done so and be way past talking much about it, too.

Meanwhile, we purchase another laptop, hoping we’ll be running animation soft ware that helps us create cartoons to bring smiles to children not yet even born. Ordering a Pro Tools dongle that will help us record the songs that wake me at such hours as these. Drawing pictures I hope reach those who appreciate them. Writing stories that thrill young people who take a break from Instagram to also think and imagine and dream. It’s either the activities of a visionary busily distracting himself from the end of the world. Perhaps simply put, I’ve just chosen to be an optimist.

My dad had trouble pronouncing a very similar word. It was a new abstraction to him, to claim being “opkimistic.” He pronounced it like our beloved Popeye might. But he did grow to know what it is to feel the end is near, or even have hope despite the very real fears. He learned first hand how short life can turn out to be: you work for a nice home and save for golden years, then get the barest poise above them before a diagnosis literally takes your breath away. He had long since made his efforts to know Jesus. If anything, he poured it on with his lungs deteriorating and his sleep demolished and his body tired and racked with pains. As if to make up for some unpardonable offense for which pulmonary fibrosis was set upon him. As if he’d ever made a mistake or lived a life that deserved a painful, scary death- as if one’s soul might not have averted torment, after all, by sincerely asking Christ’s forgiveness. As if you can seek a bargain to live more before living forever.

It’s strange, how the optimism of eternal life can be couched in a belief system promising, but for grace, eternal torment. It is a wonder anyone with that sincere belief can ever think of anything but profoundly witnessing to every stranger with three minutes that you meet. But it also provided a grace he felt so deeply as to tear up, testifying in the second pew of an old time church, many times over.
So while NASA’s creating no-flat-tires, the man who went back to his job making steel-belted radial tires wire became a glow in my consciousness- never to leave me, but often missed-ten years ago. I felt a glorious light within, a calm, an abiding love, and more happiness than you’d expect.

I was telling my new pal, Sam Maronie- friends I never expected to lose fall away, but new, kind, creative people tell me more and more often now to call anytime- a man needn’t have more than an eighth grade education to get most any job he could imagine, in my Dad’s world. One might grow to be ashamed of that over time, but is there shame in trying to fight your way out of a miserable existence to gain a claim to be your own person? To marry and support a family? To give to one set of friends after another, be a kindly volunteer grandfather, a loving husband? He really cared about teaching me right from wrong. I don’t hold him forth as some paradigm, but he was a true father. He was a kind uncle, providing toys and fruit baskets and candy, helping out sisters and brother with tough love and sometimes, kindness and support of others even when they time and again struggle to show why. That’s grace. I literally don’t know how many people he helped. He never bragged about it.
He wasn’t instilled early on with much belief in himself, but even with the end looming, he improved his skill at reading. There was a proud younger day when he took his namesake to see a campus offering opportunities he didn’t dream possible. An education, at the very least, should be a way to refine yourself, to open your offerings. His daughter discovered herself through art, cooking, even became one of the four percent of all professional welders who are women. So many things he believed in for others, he may not have believed in for himself. That was his capacity to love. Hope.

I want to tell story after story. I could sprinkle in some hilarious mistakes, some lapses in judgment, and tell a lot of quiet moments he might see little point in depicting. Time and again, I would be telling about something he taught me: driving. Shaving. Mowing a lawn. Buying a car. Working out at the gym- enjoying a sit in a sauna. Helping a family member. Denying yourself frivolous things. Consistency. Dreaming of new ways to be answerable to yourself, doing what you like best. Consideration for your mother. Play games with your kids. Take time to be together- go on a vacation if you can. Keep your own counsel. Have a silly laugh. Get up and do things you don’t think you feel like doing if they really need done.

Say what you must to yourself about religion, but he took the whole family to church every week. Until he didn’t, when their pious scapegoating and snobbery seems to have released him from the obligation- and as I understand the story, maybe it was just a little more deeply embarrassing and probably, unnecessarily damaging to someone who didn’t get more respect even after joining their brotherhood as thoroughly as possible. But he found a way to forgive, anyway. He believed there could one day be enough water under the bridge. He showed me you might not think too much of yourself, your values could be based around machismo and accepting norms without question...but you could better yourself with determined work. You could, at least, try a dream. You could build a business that honors time with your family and bonds with your community, even if you weren’t from there. You may hardly fit into a traditionalist society when you’ve relatively drifted into it by wayward fortune and marriage. But it’s admirable to let another man teach you practical things you need, like carpentry from my grand dad, or mechanics from his friend Billy. I could go on and on with details of the biography and tell it all lovingly like a story, even if it’s one more of personal significance. It’s context, after all, that makes all our stories global symbols, pieces of ways of life. But he also taught me to get to the point. To maybe consider I might be simply using more words than necessary.

A fatalistic road to a world without proper attention to diplomacy and even personally painful sanctions looms in the background of what we do, living lives like my Dad’s, every day. But those lives require hope. They need the practicality of resolving the task in front of you for its own sake. But they need the vision of something bigger than one’s self, a higher ideal with which to engage.

I think, when I’m in the nicest Earthly home he ever had, I sometimes miss having him sitting there to talk, to shake his hand, to help him with some household task as best as we could figure out how to do it. I miss him in a way I never had to in San Diego, where I could picture him warmly smiling over my shoulder as I drew or wrote. I miss him because he visited us there and had to agree, I’d found some place pretty breath-taking for a kid growing up in a trailer on an acre in the country- but this is where he should be. He awoke, this final hour, before peacefully breathing his last beside Mom.

But when I take some flowers today to the place they laid a wrecked body he no longer needed, he won’t really be there anymore than he’s on a recliner in that suburban home he finally earned. He’ll be right there in my heart, where he’s never left.

Rest in peace, Dad. Rest, too, please, in the peace within me.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Korean Penisula Blues by Cecil Disharoon



Korean Peninsula Blues


Well Richard Engel’s got a bird’s eye view
the Korean Peninsula’s a wonderin’ what to do
Shinzo Abe’s got a brand new gun
he bought from Trump because of Kim Jong Un



Better get ready is it World War 3
or will it be the last war in history
Nuclear family’s got a real nice glow
but never be worried ‘cause we’ve all gotta go

Oligarchs buying up the Facebook ad
share and repost if you’ve all been had
Bernie Sanders driving hot red cars
but who’s checking facts you know it never gets far

The fix is in with Flynn and his son
gotta send a cleric in for Erdogan
DNC has done hurt us again
some people call it favors, some call it swindlin’

Well they bought some tiki torches and they went to Charlottesville
It’s so hard to swallow the monumental pill
if missiles don’t get us, the misses surely will
but they ain’t doin’ nothing up on Capitol Hill

Better get ready is it World War 3
or will it be the last war in history
Nuclear family’s got a real nice glow
but never be worried ‘cause we’ve all gotta go

All gotta go, don’t you see
the ICBMs across the DMZ
no time to vacate, presidents prevaricate
Seoul’s at stake, the navy’s too late

Suddenly the experts hand-picked to handle this
Turn Paige and topple this who’s Papadopoulos
Bobby Mueller’s stalking round a leaky West Wing
State department empty chair to handle everything

President Xi’s gonna be the new king
sellin’ off an arsenal for Un’s new bling
North Korea, South Korea, needs a real friend
somebody send a tweet to Yi Soon Shin
Just wake me up unless it’s World War 3
I have a dream about the last war in history
Every wind’s poison when the fallout blows
but never be worried, we’ve all gotta go (People, get ready we’ve...all...got, to, go)

-written by C Lue Lyron

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Over- a smooth listening reflection by Integr8d Soul


This is one song that's gotten some cool 95.7 fm The Ridge play here in Rome, as well as a couple thousand Internet plays. I wrote it April 18th at 6 am Pacific our last spring in San Diego. It's been on my mind a lot, and you should really hear the version we've whipped up with The Kamikaze Dali's own Blue Clef Papa, Jeremy Wells.

But that's not all- we're shooting a video with the same folk who were putting together the documentary Anywhere With You, which features our various shenanigans.
I can't wait to start shooting downtown! I've already made moves to recruit some actresses and I feel it's a song that well suits the overall listening public of Rome. But you tell me!


Check out our FB page and give us a Like if you wish. Biggest things of all coming in the days and years ahead, so hop aboard the rocket now! OK, well, it's been moving more like a pack mule, but it's making its way up the mountainside...

Best, C Lue

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Into The Great Wide Open: R.I.P. Tom Petty


Perhaps the first great rule of figuring out who is an iconic rock singer is: you must be able to do a silly impression of them. Tom Petty shines through on this rule. You can definitely do a silly impression of him that many people will recognize, especially if they’ve grown fond of a few of his big hits.

But Tom Petty, who died of cardiac arrest at age 66, was of course more than someone fun to imitate. Whether you’ve been with the Heartbreakers since Damn The Torpedoes or even before, whether you know who’s Mudcrutch (his first and, when reassembled, nearly last band), Tom could tell you “You Don’t Know How It Feels...to Be Me..” But rock’s look-a-like answer to Marvel Comics Group editor/writer Roy Thomas provided me music for many fast rides down the road, in times when that was my favorite part of being alive. “Running Down A Dream” always connected with my nervous system in a strong way; that may be my favorite Tom Petty song. WE’ve learned to play several of them. In fact, he was the last artist I tried to find covers from before I laser-focused on recording Integr8d Soul this summer. His biography, Petty, is the very best book of its sort I think I ever read. That’s also the last book I completed reading. It took basically two days. I love creating songs, and this book has more of the essence I wish to reflect in work like Creating Marvels : I’m intrigued by what put the ‘there’ there. Tom went to the well for songs longer than I’ve been alive. He brought back a number that are practically some part of every American experience. He seemed to show a good sense of humor about that innovation that came along to change it all, the music video. You still really need one, today! I’ll always remember him first as the Mad Hatter, from what is rightly pointed out by my friend Crystal as one hella scary-ass children’s story, Alice In Wonderland. Stacy Edge gave us a lyric referencing it that became our chorus to a song she titled first as the poem, “Halb.” Nothing quite says lost like Alice. But Tom said so many things in songs. You get a real part of his life. Early on, you get his desire to craft a hit song with his Heartbreakers. Even the records I’ve never heard had fascinating descriptions. Did you know he turned down what was soon turned into “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley? Mike Campbell, guitarist, initiated the creation of that one.

I thought I’d need his biography to write a eulogy. But he spoke for me when he released “I Won’t Back Down.” You know he recorded that in Mike Campbell’s garage, with ELO’s Jeff Lynne producing? Same record with “Free Falling,” “Running Down A Dream,” even “Yer So Bad.” That friendship began thanks to mutual friend George Harrison. A Beatle! You get adopted by a Beatle and you are some big time talent. Ask Elton John! No, don’t ask him if he’s big time talent, it’s a figure of speech.
My friend at Krafthaus wondered aloud, he knew not quite why, he thought of Tom Petty as “a successful fan.”
I can tell you the LP Wildflowers was mine, on CD, in that window in my life when music had made its strongest surge yet in showing me how important it was to me. So while my life otherwise went nowhere but long drives and struggles to find a way out of the grind and make a living, “You Don’t Know How It Feels” was blasting on the car radio; “It’s Good To Be King” was playing to the window in my bedroom, the window where I’d watch the street and just listen to songs. “Honeybee” and “Cabin Down Below” were fun- I hadn’t really mastered much on guitar yet, but those kinds of old rock rhythms, electrified, kept a part of me ready to rock forever onwards. I had plenty of songs I liked but, as I grew writing songs, didn’t love, but Tom Petty’s always welcome in my passive public consumption of song. “Learning to Fly” also got a great song out of David Grohl, too, but the second famous song by that title I ever knew, with its Traveling Wilburies feel, that slide guitar and down hominess, is one of the simplest Tom hits and one of the most rewarding. But I think “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” cut just for the Greatest Hits, might be the most universally loved one of the the 90s.

He had a hell of a time with that drummer, Stanley, but what a talented guy Stan is, a good writer and suitable foil on drums, however much Daniel Lanois just thought he was noise. I think I’m getting my producer right. This is just a blog, dammit, the producer of Damn The Torpedoes and two other albums- a collaborator who brought in Steve Nicks, who wanted to be a Heartbreaker even while Fleetwood Mac was selling huge-he’s the headphones magnate. Benmont Tench was the first Heartbreaker I knew by name, because what a weird fucking name, and that’s coming from Cecil Lue Disharu. But he and Mike were constants in the Heartbreakers, with deft touches whose simplicity belies their raw talent. I still can’t get over Stevie Nicks wanting to be a Heartbreaker- she got in through Tom’s wife at the time and stayed around a lot for over a decade.

But through it all, attempting to be a family man, married, occasionally for unhappy, guarded reasons, and a man who bottomed out harder than anyone knew following his greatest run of success, Tom Petty was a recognizable talent. He didn’t even start out as his first band’s singer. He and his Heartbreakers became, in 1986, the touring band for Bob Dylan, himself. Remember my initial point about funny impressions? It took a lot of pressure off everyone to just be inventive and work with Dylan on stage.

I forget who it was that walked into the study during a Christmas party around 1986, guess it was, to find George Harrison, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne first discussing what would become the Traveling Wilburies. Now I realize how close Tom and Bob Dylan had just been working, and the book went on at length describing the years of correspondence and friendship Petty shared with the late George Harrison. Wouldn’t you love to hold one of those letters for just a minute? I wouldn’t even try to read them all if I could, but just appreciate how cool it is to find out someone who changed music forever for you was basically a cool guy, funny, smart, sincere. When is the last time you reached out to someone with something you wrote down, to keep it on a shared piece of paper? I think it would be novel to some people, nowadays. Tom’s life among the musicians- like his brief secret weapon, party man Dave – Stewart, isn’t it?- of the Eurythmics- tells you the real story of how this music was made.

I can’t decide whose collaboration story I really enjoy the most, but hearing how Lynne recorded those tracks of Full Moon Fever- the LP that hooked my sis and I big time- might’ve seemed the most relevant to me as I recorded, this summer. Isn’t it wild they brought Roy Orbison back into a studio for that one last amazing record, real hits? One more time, that voice on the radio. I used to cover “Little Runaway”: turns out Petty produced a comeback record for that singer, Del Shannon!
I’m out of date past The Last DJ, but I can tell you the book describes Tom’s effort to reunite Mudcrutch as a moment as satisfying as having the Heartbreakers inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame. He’s a band guy, in an era some no longer see as a band era.

Ah, but lest I forget, no longer is he in present tense. He’s past tents- he’s living in bungalows, now! Now, there’s a full moon, beautiful, right on the doorsteps of his passing. Tom played cowboys, had a crazy dad, a long-suffering mom, two pretty great daughters, and a stepson and a second marriage that I heard blew up. IF they didn’t work things out, that is just too bad, as they had twenty years of much happiness, but I am not in the thick of Petty gossip nor even online much at present.

I love the story of the first tour, piling five or six of them together in a van the old fashioned way, and the odyssey of bands for which they opened, reminding me what a treat awaits me when I finally get way into Cheap Trick! Tom had true cool. I’d say he wasn’t so much an all-around singer as the voice of what he had to say. I should do so well! He had a spirit that seems like it’d bring you a few words of wisdom. He had an amazing time overall. He brought happiness into millions of lives, and is not done! We’ll be listening for some time. It will really be the change of an epoch when I am not hearing Tom’s songs in random public places. He worked with Rick Rubin, the last producer to Johnny Cash. I hadn’t even worried for ol’ Tom, just didn’t seem like he’d be going anywhere soon.
I still have songs galore left from him to enjoy, but when music could really mean something to my life, he and his buddies were teaching me American music. And as the Violent Femmes sang, “I like American Music. You like American Music.”
He devoted his life to making good songs, then taking them out to whomever would listen. He threw one really great Super Bowl halftime- what a fine nod to how much his songs were loved. If I seemed a bit flip in eulogizing him, please take it today in the Heartbreakers’ own style. Stevie Nicks and the rest of you, there’s millions of people who’ve sang with the Heartbreakers, danced or played air guitar or drums. So don’t just be heart broken, be a Heartbreaker.

The worst part of dying just might be those you leave crying. Time passes, molasses, sweet and slow, spread on biscuits of homemade dough. One year they threaten to arrest your fans, another greet you with parades of bands. So count on yourself when you’ve been counted out- no doubt you’ll learn to count on your doubt. Let the fun live on though the man is gone.

He will be there wherever there’s someone “running down a dream, that never would come to me/ working on a mystery, going wherever it leads...” He’s been free falling and leaving this world, for a little while.

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Blank (is the answer) - Lue Lyron

The first song I wrote in California.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

An Audio selection of William Carlos Williams' poetry


I plan on memorizing a few poems and I was drawn to this author on the shelf. I also like:
Learning candidates: Pictures From Brueghel (1962)
The Ivy Crown (to my wife)
The Hard Core of Beauty
Tribute To the Painters
The Orchestra

and I like Pink Locust, The Forgotten City, and Tract!
I read "Beauty," "Orchestra," "Ivy Crown" and "Pink Locust" for this podcast. No analysis, really, just an experience of sensuous images in a recitation inspired by his style of indentation.
Enjoy!


'

Monday, September 18, 2017

For Striking Worship by Angela Disharoon (music by Cecil)

ONe big edited first take of music to go with a 1999 poem of Angela's I picked up. So, it's got some imperfections, but I just want you to feel inspired, you know?

Mother Earth accepting me as her kin
Inside the opening of her cavern I am swept away
Nothing to distinguish
Who I am
Will relate the tale
Of heroes of old
Awaken to take up the helm
For Striking Worship
In a young one’s heart
Holding to tradition
of the past few years
to recapture timeless feelings
And at the end of it all
Find the golden opportunity

Angela Dawn Disharoon 07/28/99


68 great words and a few minutes of pure inspiration. I could talk about the meanings of those words at great length! Easily 10x as many words to describe what’s there. The meanings of the song have changed at least four times: as I sang, I went on the visual journey they represent, then thought of it as sex, then as birth, and finally, as death.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Short and Sweet- a folkie, wry number


With the ol' harmonica

They live with ease- Listen to Trees! The trees can teach more than most people please!
Know the real value of what you hold on to...'cause if you don't do it, you'll never know really you!

All of the ones who wouldn't listen are gone
it's just you and this song, I've got to help me hang on...

I know just what to do: I will create and be true
and I don't really need anybody but you!

Dedicated to the short and sweet everywhere!

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

The Stuckwayze: Newscast Brainstorm!





A silly newscast forecasting another furious coming of mighty Saga.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

A gentle one: It Can Be Like That (a love story)



“It Can Be Like That”

AS I think of you, falling asleep
there’s not much in my many memories to keep
me from waking you with the gentlest touch
and sweeping you up when the feeling’s so much
and it’s lately been that way
just like an early day

I’d give up gladly anything that I own
for a glimpse of your face, I might take out my phone
pictured there on my arm with an angel-like charm
for you’ve earned peaceful sleep
but I’m raptured so deep

when we sing together, cling together
It can be like that
and what years that we know, and what wrinkles may grow
if we keep this fine art, of our love from the start
It can be like that.
It can always be like that.

When I see young love in the making anew
and I hear of whispered words that will ever be true
I see them in the hearts of the lucky ones old
who hold hands and hang on when the years become gold
for it’s all the same
never end this game

For there’s days, many days, that pass in our eyes
and should time make them dim, here’s a word to the wise:
that the first flush of feeling that you find so appealing
needs permanent room
hidden safe from the gloom

and just walk together, talk together
it can be like that
and what years that we know, and what wrinkles may grow
if we keep this fine art, of our love from the start
It can be like that.
It can always be like that.

And it’s heart felt to say, I’m not that kind of man
who can never be found when he finds a new plan
when you’ve got to get a grip, reach for that same hand
for like fingerprints, the pattern remains
even after pitter-patter, and so much for our brains

Over seas together, please together,
no I’ll never complain
If we cling together, sing together
unbroken ring together
long as the sun reflects on the moon
and deep as midnight, yet brighter than noon
when we walk together, talk together
it can be like that
we return like spring and everything
I ever loved in you
it stays on my mind
and we’ll always find
it can be like that

it’s our fling, together, wings together
that’s how we’ll fly
when we love together, love forever
across the sky
and we’ll cry together, why together
we could smile
of our love forever, love together
it can be like that

It can always be like that.
7/14/17 3:39 am Cecil Disharoon, Jr.

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Personal for a sexy girl: can anyone help me please?




I've long wished to do an EP full of songs with The Marc Kane on lead. As I am the more hands-on songwriter of our duo, I'm more likely to show up on a demo, but this one...I think it was a melody I heard upon waking, once again. It was so fun to write! I consider it a companion piece to "Waiting ON A Girl" and somewhat similar in lyrical intent. It's also very evocative of Angela Dawn's life in CAlifornia. Above all, I wrote it as a show piece for her. Maybe you'll get to hear her punk rock struggle when she was basically without legal i.d.- Invisible REsident- maybe even Monday.

This song's like a playful personal ad for the more mystical side of my best lady friend. Will anyone answer? LOL
Consider it a personal-i-tease. You can tell where she starts cutting loose about a minute in. I spent a little over an hour adding some bells and whistles to what was already a solid acoustic performance- her first try recording it. So glad to get it out to share!

-Lue Lyron

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Flying in Dreams: Integr8d Soul's Drifter (Skyward) by C Lue

I never plan to write a song, you know?


Drifter (Skyward)

I stopped to say good bye to a recent friend we’d made
we took a book of Batgirl comics, which on her bed she laid
her dreams of knowledge started, her things moved in the castle
it’s time to leave the castle now, so was it worth the hassle?

I went out to the flying craft, gave everyone a wave at length
it’d be so quick to pilot home, hang on and use my arm’s strength
and then I pushed the throttle forward, wheels rushed off the ground
then floating a-bove I waved at the students all around

Enough of all this scenery, and back to my machinery
I drifted to my next goodbye, he wasn’t one for hugs
but he’d seemed a friend so good enough we’d talk of Italy
I raised my machine high enough to stay above the trees

Drifter leaning skyward
it’s beautiful, you can take my word
you feel surrounding elements, you are so unprotected
but we just might fly to everywhere if we can stay connected

And there below inside the park, I saw you my best friend
playing ball with a child and family she lifted up her chin
I guided down my drifter to four point alight below
and I asked have you seen everyone I know it’s time to go
You said I wish we’d stayed to be the graduation ceremony
I knew you meant you hope it pays that a bachelor’s work’s not phony
we’d have a few hours to glide, we shouldn’t plan our stops
we might not make them all in time, then our friends might call the cops

to see if we had crashed in our dream drifter headed east
perhaps we’ll just surprise someone if we communicate the least
it’d keep us off the Internet, it’s too much information
when our dream’s to launch our flyer and glide all over the nation

Drifter leaning skyward
it’s beautiful, you can take my word
you feel surrounding elements, you are so unprotected
but we just might fly to everywhere if we can stay connected

So hang on to my drifter, and our wings will catch the wind
I can’t promise riches, places we won’t see again
and I hope the flight is worthy, for it’s cost me everything
but my time, and that, I’ll pay to climb on hopeful, steady wings

we’ll leave the campus quickly, once we push the throttle down
and we might need jobs that aren’t so much, we might need other towns
but where we go, we’ll always talk, and speed to skies above
so long as this craft can hold up, invention spreads the love

We fly with ease within our dreams, without a fear of heights
in this drifter we will travel light, above the city nights
some might want to fly like us, a few might help the way
we can make ground life more bearable, though misery might stay

The weather in this drifter may make travel incomplete
repairs require honesty and dollars that compete

Drifter leaning skyward
it’s beautiful, don’t just take my word
we feel surrounding elements, we are so unprotected
but we just might fly to everywhere if we can stay connected

Flyers high within our minds, in vivid dream’s pretend
but I know what’s real and beautiful, is making one best friend
Drifter bracing skyways
navigate the by-ways
soaring over high-ways
floating high again

Drifter bracing skyways
navigate the by-ways
soaring over high-ways
floating high again Cecil Disharoon/ Lue Lyron 8/23 11:05am



Wednesday, August 23, 2017

90's night: Alternative Life (Live at Schroeder's, pt. 2)

Check out my previous post for even more 90's night goodness!

I have more Box Wine songs, too!
Here's one you might've missed that has stayed often in my head:


Nosecone Prophets closed the night, and were one band that got some video, too! Short set, but they always make it count:



I have more Yet! Stay tuned, I want to edit them-I have about 20 more minutes of show, done already
...I am a bit short on upload space on Soundcloud, actually, if any of the bands could offer a host site- I'd be glad to feature your song and give you the mp3 of course!


I didn't play that night, but was certainly inspired: