From the recording Poverty
Written By Jason Moon
I woke up this morning, I start wondering where you are.
Last night I mistook a satellite, for a shooting star.
Sometimes I get so messed up, I can’t remember what is real.
What goods a thousand acres, if you never plow the fields?
I got this cousin, lives north of freedom, and we don’t get along.
Every time I call him, he’s too gone, to answer his gosh darn phone.
You know it’s the one’s who never open up their eyes, their the same ones who will never ever see.
There ain’t no use in running wild, if you ain’t running free.
But up here on the second floor.
A drum circle made of one.
Yeh but I can hear the rhythm.
Of two hands and a broken drum.
The bells of the tower ringing; I hear them pounding in my ears.
Sometimes when I turn around, all my good friends, well they just disappear
Sweet magnolias blooming, your memory I can’t erase
Seems like just when I got my life all figured out. It all just blows up in my face.
I’ll keep on writing till my pen runs out of blood.
It’s better to have lost at anything, sometimes I wish I’d never woken up at all.
Oh, but the day will come, I know it sounds a little bit absurd.
You go ahead and quote me on this one, “Some day my voice will be heard.”
Some day my voice will be heard.
© 2006 Full Moon Music