The Night Country
for february 2010, fireball wrote a bunch of words and sent them out to farflung folks to put them to music. seventeen songs came back from that venture. fireball added a little bit to many of the songs, with mixed results. here is information about the songs.
back to the FAWM 2010 songlist
the aspens
words by fireball
We moved west for the air and the wide open spaces,
It's an ancient sun that shone
Down the valleys the timeless winds blow
The government came in and bought up all the land
They stand here alone
Down off the Little Bird plateau
The war was burning high and young men were dying.
They are not flesh and bone
Down off the mountains melting snow
That was a long time ago, now only relics remain
We will return to dust and stone
Down from the hills, the rivers flow
It's an ancient sun that shone
Were raised on a boys ranch in the hills,
Built on burial grounds that had been sacred places,
Carved in time as the snow melts and spills.
down on the circle of stone
On the highlands between the deep carved vales.
And it's a young forest of trees
passing down secrets in the breeze
Whispering of the old ones and their tales.
Frijoles, Lummis, Alamo
For the isolation and tranquility.
And we watched it come together: time and place and man,
Another circumstantial trinity.
These ancient lions made of stone
On the highlands between the deep carved vales.
And there are older words than these
that pass among the trees
Whispering of the old ones and their tales.
Frijoles, Lummis, Alamo
The aspens trembled with every windy breath.
We conjured up an endgame, beautiful and terrifying,
And the alchemy had finally become death.
These ancient lions made of stone
On the highlands between the deep carved vales.
And the trees sing with the breeze
Arboreal fantasies
Whispering of the old ones and their tales.
Frijoles, Lummis, Alamo
We that used to live here... are all gone
Left the shrines in the woods on the high desert plain
Packed what we could and moved on.
But how will we atone
On the highlands between the deep carved vales?
And what will we tell the trees
When they ask about our disease?
Whispering of the old ones and their tales.
Frijoles, Lummis, Alamo
down on the circle of stone
On the highlands between the deep carved vales.
And it's a young forest of trees
passing down secrets in the breeze
Whispering of the old ones and their tales.