Looks like life in your eye…

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Jude Moonlight ~

The baker wore a mustache and he smiled to me and he said, “Where you been, dear boy? What you been up to?” I said, “I been here, dear man. I been here, I got stuck on a girl and I can’t get her off of my mind.” And he said that’ll happen from time to time.

Baker: What’s her name?

Jude: I got a thing about saying her real name.

Baker: Why?

Jude: Don’t know…let’s call her Monique.

Baker: C’mon, after all the talks we’ve had, you can’t trust me enough to give me the girl’s name?

Jude: It’s not about trust.

Baker: Alright then, I understand. Really I do.

Jude: Her name is Cassandra.

Baker: Was that so hard? What do you like about her?

Jude: Everything. But enough about that, I’m done with it. She loves another man.

Baker: Oh tough break, kid.

Jude: Yea, but anyways it’s nice to be back here in the ol’ haunt. How’s business?

Baker: It’s nice to have you back. Nice to see you, you ol’ rascal. Business? Business is good, I can’t complain. The world didn’t end. I’m happy.

Jude: Me too.

Baker: So what’s your next move?

Jude: To be loved, and to give love.

Baker: You stole my idea!

Jude: It’s not your idea!

Baker: Ha! I guess that’s true.

Jude: Anyways, that’s not really my next move.

Baker: It’s your last?

Jude: I thought about joining the circus.

Baker: Oh?

Jude: You know those guys who get put in a cannon?

Baker: Yes…

Jude: And then they get shot out?

Baker: Yea…you?

Jude: Bingo.

Baker: You came in here just to tell me that? Kind of a dry hump.

Jude: I know, but I just wanted to stop in and say hello. I made you a promise after all.

Baker: We did have a deal.

They shake hands.

Jude: It’s always a pleasure. (Begins to exit) You really are one of my dearest friends.

Baker: Likewise, dear Jude. Stay safe out there.

Jude: …and stay true.

Baker: You got it.

Warm Company

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The afternoon counter he stands behind,
The baker awaits the seven days’ chimes.
He’s reminded of beauty, smiling through a long life.
And to blue skies he stands to rise,
With tears of joy, which stream from his eyes.

He’s an Englishman, born in the West End, he says.
“Like to go back again, but LA’s my home, and when I’s lost it took me in.”
“Into the home of the good people I’d met.”
“Been blessed,” he says. “Used to sleep in an Oldsmobile, but they put a roof o’er my head.”

“Today’s Palm Sunday,” I hear a patron say.
“I went to church when I was a boy,” says the Englishman.
“I never went,” says I.
He says he’s got sour memories.
“No perhaps it was not for me,” and he stares and he breathes and he says “but I believe.”
And the sun sits majestic and penetrating,
Through the glass in soft afternoon beams;
And it lights the Sunday scene,
Made sacred by good friends and warm company.

Stationhouse Blues

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Words and Music by Renny Michael

As the trains they roll on by
Ignorant of that gleam in you eye
I thought I heard the whisper of the rain
I turn around and the same passerby, gray concrete remains

These tracks, these tunnels I might call home
Though somewhere another light had once shone
In a dream I remember visions so clear
In the steam, like a mist it blinks, yea briefly reappears.

I need you baby
I remember you
I came for you, won’t you meet me now.
There’s a place for us and it’s waiting beyond
The sun shall bring the morning but only you can bring me the dawn

Through these corridors I roam like a phantom found.
I’d become another stranger in smoke and in the crowd.
And though they all may come and go sometimes I swear I shall remain,
Until that one day I see your train comin’ my way.

What are you? My dear, I cannot say.
I’d follow you at any time and in any way
And is that the general tune of your song,
Standing alone, as I frame the nature of whose side your on?

All I know is that I need you baby
I’d give it all for you
You dance somewhere in these train station walls.
And it’s true that I can’t see you at all
And I stand so ready for you each time darkness falls.

Sweet Cassandra (Fire Child)

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Words and Music by Renny Michael

Like finding a river after walking through hills of sand,
I saw this girl, and reached out to grab her hand.
When you stood surrounded by city shadow, how many knew your name?
You dancing child, city ghost, staring through the dark like a sacred flame?
I’m just a traveller, once saw a land where angels used to reside.
Might have just been a dream, I know, but tonight I see the light in your eyes.

So take my hand, won’t you, be my baby?
Let me protect you from the light, you might just save me.
We’ll go out tonight, beneath the stars and across the desert
Come the rising day, all shall know your name, Sweet Cassandra.

Motorcycle eyes. Auburn hair. Skin so white, a neck so bare.
You cold, baby girl, I’ll give you my jacket to wear?
When you ride with me to the cliffs on the sea, and you look me deep inside,
Let me see those secrets that whisper amongst the moonlight tide.
We’ll lie here together, each an earth child, with your eyes greater than the sun.
When you’re close to me, when I hear you breathe, I could live forever on the run.

So take my hand, won’t you, be my baby?
Let me protect you from the light, you might just save me.
We’ll go out tonight, beneath the stars and across the desert
Come the rising day, all shall know your name, Sweet Cassandra.

Baby should the time come soon, when across the eastern dune,
Our night is broken by that screaming streak of blue;
Should the air grow warm and the tide subside, should night fade from the sky,
Know, baby girl, I shall remain by your side.
No, things may not last forever. I cherish your every breath.
A child like you conquers life and bows in the shadow of death.

So embrace the night. I won’t forget you baby.
You were mine tonight, and so you saved me.
We’ll go out tonight, beneath the stars and across the desert.
Come the rising day, all shall know your name, Sweet Cassandra.

When the Streets Grow Cold

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Words and Music by Renny Michael

How do you sing when the rain falls down,
And keep me warm when the streets grow cold?
And how do you smile when looming thunder pounds,
While you lie out your hand for me to hold?

‘Neath the candlelight to some evening sky,
You exhale your stares and you whisper a prayer.
Yea you smile wide and you close your eyes,
Kiss the beads of a benevolent Mary.

Do you gather roses from the falling rain?
Do you glide like a ghost ‘neath the evening trees?
Do you sing soft when grey skies remain?
Are those the eyes of an angel looking at me?

I can be there for you if you stay with me, and
Dance you a tune as summer fades to fall.
Tonight the city’s are home, these windy streets,
As you hold the tears of the angels in your palm.
While you lie out your hand for me to hold
…Keep me warm on these streets that are so cold.

Welcome Home

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A change in style ought to explain the hiatus.

But it is New Years Eve.

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It was some kind of Christmas.  2012 a hell of a year.

I can see the beast majestic in the old desert storm

and I look upon my own hands,

remembering how I stood on the hilltop awaiting the revolution.

I approach the dust storm with my speed increasing,

as it widens over the first spring dune.

There is no divine solution.

No.  There is only the divine.

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And once they said rock and roll was dead.  Try and kill an attitude, a spirit born when America was born.  It lives.

This was supposed to be our final year.  Yet on this day, even Chuck Berry still lives.  We are all alive.

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Eat Life.  Never stop moving.  Never stop seeing.  Feel.  And “when in doubt…fuck.”

2013 sings, Welcome home.

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