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There is no black and white, red and blue, just me and you, and we just disagree. Get on the merry-go-round, it was fun when you were a youth, compete for a bite of the sound, who cares for the truth. I see your point, you work hard, what's fair is fair, so why despair, that you can't see mine. Get on the merry-go-round, it was fun when you were a youth, compete for a bite of the sound, who cares for the truth. Money flows like to like, like water do, from me to you, why expect different. Get on the merry-go-round, it was fun when you were a youth, compete for a bite of the sound, who cares for the truth. Wave a cape, create a buzz, with simple fear, you can steer, the mind of the public. Get on the merry-go-round, it was fun when you were a youth, compete for a bite of the sound, who cares for the truth.
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What's all the drama, What's all the crying, It's only romance, No one is dying? Why does it matter that no one loves you, Would it be better to die of the flu? I'm lonely no more, and no less for sure, if you could only see, what it's done for me. I've no need for sex, nor a tryst on the deck, though I'll honestly say, I never got it anyway. Does your libido, mean all so much, would you prefer to, walk with a crutch? It's all illusion, the ache of the heart, a ridiculous game, of which we all play a part. I'm lonely no more, and no less for sure, if you could only see, what it's done for me. I've no need for sex, nor a tryst on the deck, though I'll honestly say, I never got it anyway. So, why all the anger, Why rage in the dark, Your lover left you, for a romp in the park? You're better without them, It was all a lie, There is no Prince Charming, so, spit in their eye. I'm lonely no more, and no less for sure, if you could only see, what it's done for me. I've no need for sex, nor a tryst on the deck, though I'll honestly say, I never got it anyway. The fairy book stories, you were told as a child, Have come back to haunt you, make you weak, old and mild. There is no happy after, but for master esquire, so, leave your memories, on the funeral pyre. Learn some perspective, and take it in stride, With age comes no wisdom, but the pull of the tide.
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Fifty years ago, I picked up a pen, I put it to paper, and my troubles began, I wrote through the evening, I wrote through the day, looking for something, another didn't say. I sat at my piano, tickled the keys, the music that's inside me, is like a disease, it took over my mind, it took over my life, it set my blood to flowing, like the cut of a knife. And I can't let it go, Though it left me with nothing, Though I can't believe in heaven, It captured my soul, So I sit here all alone, No one to call my own, Pictures in my head, Air in my wallet, It's the curse of the artist, Nobody cares. I should have been a teacher, led an academic life, or a political man, with a white picket wife, I followed the money, I followed the dream, like water through my fingers, it returned to the stream. I'm a design engineer, without the degree, so no one with money, will listen to me, I invented electronics, I invented a car, it grew in my head, which is not very far. And I can't let it go, Though it left me with nothing, Though I can't believe in heaven, It swallowed my soul, So I sit here all alone, No one to call my own, Pictures in my head, Air in my wallet, It's the curse of the artist, Nobody cares.
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And I'm running down the road, Looking at everything I see, It's so easy I'm told, Wanting everything for free. And it's alright now, I'm home again, My URL is clear, Deleting my history. Free packets for all, Think I'll make a call. And as I break the firewall, Install remote access for me, Clone the hard drives, clone them all, What more fun could there be. And it's alright now, I'm home again, My URL is clear, Deleting my history. No one will catch me, Libertarian morality. And I think I'll hack a game, No script kiddie am I, Though our ID'll be the same, Your elf monk, I will fry. And it's alright now, I'm home again, My URL is clear, Deleting my history.
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To be or not to be, That, is the question, Whether it is nobler in the mind, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them, to die, to sleep, no more, and by a sleep, to say, we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks, that flesh is heir to, tis a consummation devoutly to be wished, to die, to sleep, To sleep, perchance to dream, ah, there's the rub, for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause, There's the respect, that makes calamity of too long life, For, who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely, the pangs of despised love, laws delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself, might his quietus make, with bare bodkin, Who would Fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, that undiscovered Country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of. Thus does conscience make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment, in this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.
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White Dove 03:04
a white dove, dressed in shadow, crowned in golden flame. a nights's dream, trapped in mist, tears on window pane. a blazing fire, housed in flesh, shatters in twinkling stars. a soothing rain, clothed in clouds, rings of prismatic light. a black crow, born of shadow, lost in fantasy dark. a night mare, raised in mist, cries in forlorn hope. a burning ember, child of flesh, ash of unanswered call. a morning sun, birthed in clouds, warmed in angel's embrace. a white dove, a black crow, voyage to never never land a night's dream, a night mare, trip on satin seas. a blazing fire, a burning ember, excursion of quelled desire. a soothing rain, a morning sun, venture in white dove.
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about

This project began as several songs written and performed on solo bass guitar. It was later filled in with several songs written/orchestrated and performed on 12 string guitar, and finished off with instrumentals composed and performed on keyboards. It consists entirely of single track recordings, that is to say, one instrument and voice.

This album was previously released in January of 2012 and went out of print in January of 2013

credits

released July 4, 2013

All instruments and vocals performed by Gary Alan Barker

Special thanx to Karen Cardier who took the cover foto and Dave Peterson who provided equipment necessary to the recording of this album.

I would also like to thank Bruce Ball, Jean Paul Cardier and especially Athena Cardier for their support.

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Gary Alan Barker California City, California

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