"The Weaver's Answer"
(Charlie Whitney/Roger Chapman)
Weaver of life, let me look and see
The pattern of my life gone by shown on your tapestry.
Just for one second, one glance upon your loom,
The flower of my childhood could appear within this room.
Does if of my youth show the tears of yesterday?
Broken hearts within a heart, as love first came my way.
Did the lifeline patterns change as I became a man?
An added untold aura blends as I asked for her hand.
Did your golden needle sew its thread virginial white?
As lovers we embraced as one upon our wedding night.
Did you capture all the joys, the birth of our first son?
The happiness of family made a brother for the one.
The growing of the brothers, the manliness that grew,
Is it there in detail? Is it there to view?
Do the sparks of life grow bright, as one by one they wed
To live as fathers, husbands, apart from lives they'd led?
Are my lover's threads cut off when, aged, she laid to rest,
My sorrow blacking out a space upon our woven crest?
A gathering for the last time as her coffin's slowly lain,
Ash to ashes, dust to dust, one day we will regain.
Does it show the visits of grandchildren, on my knee,
But only hearing laughter when age took my sight from me?
Lastly, through these last few years of loneliness, maybe,
Does by sight a shooting star fade from your tapestry?
But wait there, in the distance, your loom I think I see,
Could it be that after all my prayers, you've answered me?
After days of wondering, I see the reason why
You've kept it to this minute - for I'm about to die!
Weaver of life, at last now I can see
The pattern of my life gone by shown your tapestry.
--
"Observations From a Hill"
(Charlie Whitney/Roger Chapman)
Chimney tops, rooftops, higher than tree tops,
I stood there on a hill.
Sky blue, slate blue, cold as the wind blew,
Leaves that never stay still.
Buildings jagged and clustered,
I remained unflustered.
People are strolling, cars only rolling
Down man-made paths of gray stone.
Children are larking, dogs sometimes barking,
Break sleep of old folk alone.
Church organ, choir sing hymn life,
Sunday eve, quarter past five . . ..
These are observations from a hill.
Towers and flowers, phone lines and road signs,
All these things come into view.
I look to the valley and there by a shalley,
Suddenly I see it's you.
You're beckoning me to follow.
Maybe I'll come down tomorrow . . ..
These are observations from a hill.
--
"Hung Up Down"
(Charlie Whitney/Roger Chapman)
What the hell, bad eggs don't smell
When glossed with sleek perfume.
So who's to cry that politicians lie,
When you know damn well that they do.
(CHORUS)
Well, maybe they're hung up down,
Next stop they'll maybe turn around,
('Cause they're) every other way that I want them to be.
Well, is it so sad when men turn bad
To rob and steal from friends,
While men who count large bank amounts
Make wards for their own ends?
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Well, the grossest spew of World War Two
Turns some men right inside out.
Yeah, but make 'em ride, make 'em ride with coal black hides -
They're not so pure throughout.
(REPEAT CHORUS TWICE)
Every other way, every other way that I want them to be . . ..
--
"Summer '67"
(Charlie Whitney)
Instrumental
--
"How Hi-The-Li"
(Ric Grech)
And we'd like to know if Mr. Chou En-Lai,
He gets high with all the tea in China.
And if the Eastern Bloc is really straight or not,
Or are all the heads in Asia Minor.
(CHORUS)
We only want to break the chains of society,
Put the people back on the road to reality.
We only to want to turn the whole world on.
And the politicians start to speak, trying to make themselves clear
To the ones who can't diagnose the symptoms of verbal diarrhea.
And the ministers of state who preach their words of hate,
We suggest they change their religion before it's too late.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
We only want to turn the whole world on . . ..
--
"Second Generation Woman"
(Ric Grech)
Smokes like a man, getting higher than I can,
She knows how.
She's ahead of her time but she don't give a damn.
Why should she?
She looks good to handle from a personal angle.
Second generation woman, yeah.
Last thing you gotta do is force her into loving you,
No need to.
She knows when the time is right,
Comes to you without a fight.
She wants to.
She looks good to handle from a personal angle.
Second generation woman, yeah.
Second generation woman, yeah.
She's a woman that won't let you down,
Just as long as she's around.
You don't have to worry.
She feeds you loves you, lets you know she digs you.
She's in a hurry.
She looks good to handle from a personal angle.
Second generation woman, yeah.
Last thing you gotta do is force her into loving you,
You don't have to.
She knows when the time is right,
Comes to you without a fight.
'Cause she wants to.
She looks good to handle from a personal angle.
Second generation woman, yeah.
Second generation woman.
She's a second generation woman,
You know that she digs you.
--
"From Past Archives"
(Charlie Whitney/Roger Chapman)
Why can't we forget, forgive and be
Returned to harmony,
Singing our song, dueting as one?
It took time as pictures very hard to find
And melodies divine,
Completely in tune, became flat so soon.
Three years gone, and still, still I'm holding on,
Hoping that the song
From past archives will soon be revived.
--
"Dim"
(Charlie Whitney/Roger Chapman)
I can't see you, but you can see me
Waiting along the road,
Thumbing a ride to get into town.
Hey, where'd you get the automobe?
See you around the corner, wait for my flame to burn.
My eyes are dim, I cannot see,
I know there's a good time waiting for me.
Making me scene, just a-groovin' around,
Making what chicks I can.
I drink what I like and I dance what I do,
I'm getting right through to the band.
See you in the corner, wait for my flame to burn.
My eyes are dim, I cannot see,
I'd sooner feel you, babe, feeling me.
Think I'll leap around a bit
And sow my seeds somewhere.
I'll go on round to the 46,
Gonna do the things that I dare.
See you on the corner, wait for my flame to burn.
My eyes are dim, I cannot see,
You'd better not take that thought from me.
That thought from me, yeah,
You know you'd better not take that thought from me.
You got to feel it.
--
"Processions"
(Charlie Whitney)
A small boy, bucket in hand,
Building castles in the sand,
Thinking of his life that lies ahead.
An engine driver, sailor, why not a king
Of the sand castle, as the gypsy woman said.
Taking a ride on a dinkie rail, a green engine that's old
Could be a royal procession through big city streets,
Waving to the crowds from a sand carpet of gold,
Shaking hands with the VIPs one meets.
Sailing a toy boat in a rock pool, thinking that it could be
The Queen Mary passing the Cape Horn tip.
Oh, something majestic, sailing worldwide seas . . ..
"Attention, please, I'm the captain of this ship."
After all these thoughts and more, the boy returned to find
That the sand castles had been washed into the sea.
Head in hands, eyes full of tears
And a mixed-up mind,
The gypsy woman can't foresee the years.
--
"Face In the Cloud"
(Ric Grech)
Taking a journey, expecting to try,
Not certain of things bound to happen.
Just reach out and hold the hand of a stranger,
Leading the way to eternity.
Wandering aimlessly, exploring new fields,
Enjoying such beauty never experienced.
Mountains before me reaching to heaven,
Hiding the face of a girl in the clouds.
Tasting the fruit, reaping the profits,
Coming down slowly from the height of my dreams.
Collecting my thoughts, remembering sadly
The face of a girl in the clouds.
--
"Emotions"
(Charlie Whitney/Roger Chapman/Ric Grech)
Emotions you feel, around you they steal,
Saying much more than mere words can.
When choirs sing, emotions they bring,
Explaining much more than few words can.
(FIRST CHORUS)
Strange, when loneliness holds you
Like a cloak that surrounds you.
Contentment to fear, enchantment to tears.
Drops, it's the same, playing one game,
Stealing their way into take you.
Stranger to see emotions run free,
Seeing what being they make you.
(SECOND CHORUS)
Chains within and about you
Like a cage, bars to hold to.
Remembering the times as the years slip behind.
(REPEAT FIRST CHORUS)
