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I Call The Living

by Samuel Lockridge

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Tyler Krug
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Tyler Krug Some of the most stirring, heart-wrenching and inspiring music I've ever heard. Favorite track: We'll Always Have Paros.
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1.
These stones cry out to me of ages past, These leaves are whispering omens in my ear, And when the people rise like embers, One voice, one song, We will remember our home. Well maybe it’s my pride or maybe it’s just rage But I’d rather be a fool than just a number on a page. Every promise they made me at the shopping mall Has yet to be kept and I ain’t waiting anymore. There’s a place I knew when I was small, And I still believe in truth, all for one and one for all, Come on! Vivos Voco Well I was cracking my whip In the lobby of Park Avenue National Church. The moneychangers and centurions said, “I thought we crucified you long ago?” So you know, they shaved my head And zip-tied my wrists. I think they thought I was a terrorist, And anyone who questions them, I guess. Vivos Voco The lark and lily have fled the city, Back to the garden, where it all started, To a new Eden, Earth freely given. Awake from sleeping, I call the living!
2.
Cain laid the murder weapon down As the cornerstone of civilization, Innocence to desolation. And in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Now, Daddy here I am, working for the Man, Trying to pay the rent, can’t you understand? I don’t wanna die a slave, selling my soul for minimum wage. Downtown Babylon’s a one-way street. The stick and the carrot are not what they seem. I’m waking up in a sweat from the American Dream. Lincoln made a proclamation, Indians got reservations, Nixon signed his resignation, If it’s any consolation. ‘Forty acres and a mule?’ Do you take me for a fool? O, Mamma here we are, looking at the stars, Weeping because heaven never felt so far From our houses and our cars. The truth that we seek is what we already are: Victims of Manifest Destiny. The world is coming apart at the seams, And waking up in a sweat from the American Dream. We’re still the same as our Cro-Magnon ancestry, We’ve just got student loans, smart phones, and bachelor’s degrees.
3.
Loom 06:15
I wonder as I wander out under the sky What song ‘neath our skin makes you and I cry, “Oh my soul!” like wind in the fall? It’s just the frailty of it all. I carry your heart like clouds hold the rain. I’ve poured you out and watered the earth with my tears For so many years, I no longer feel despair or fear. O, we’re more than the sum of our parts! And I’d give every beat of my heart Just to know myself, Just to know myself. O, what can I do? Can’t live with or without you. No words need we say the way the moon taught us to pray. I know, I know its time to let go Of this masquerade pain I’m still wearing in vain. The sun and the moon are singing, “don’t be afraid, For in death and in birth all your fear will subside, In life you’ll tremble so keep your eyes wide, Or it will flash by like a thief in the night Before you ever see the light.” Spinning white cotton on a hummingbird loom, Apart, together, all things are made new. You and I wipe the dew from our eyes To see ourselves for the first time. (Chorus) Should every star in the sky fall through the night, I’ll find you in the darkness and I’ll run with you ‘til the end. I wonder as I wander out under the sky, Would I do it all again Just to know myself, Just to know myself?
4.
At many a blood red moon I have howled as I recall the days When we walked past the offices and restaurants Where dreamers go to die alone. You said, “Let’s never set foot on concrete again, I don’t need all of this, I’ve got you, my friend. We’re cultural orphans abandoned at birth, With an economy where a soul should be.” But that was a lifetime ago, We were too young and naïve to know That when a memo arrives from the big man upstairs You’ve got to muzzle your pride and lower your eyes As they shave your head And replace the blood in your veins with oil. In the dark of the night I have upturned my palms, I have cried in the street ‘til my voice was gone, As I recalled the songs we sang and the plans we made For the world we said we’d change one day, Until the levee broke and we drowned in all the lies We swore to take no part in for the rest of our lives. You held my hand as I watched you die. You said, “It’s not too late. I’ll see you on the other side.” But that was a lifetime ago, We were too young and naïve to know That when a memo arrives from the big man upstairs You’ve got to bite your tongue and take it as it comes, Because struggle makes us stronger you know. I walked to the orchard where we fell in love, Where the blackbirds in the corn and the autumn sun Made us new, made us new, And I thought of you.
5.
If I were a different kind of man I’d work for the sake of the task. By the sweat of my brow I’d water and plow, Not for the fruit but for joy. But my soil is dry And there’s no sign of rain in the sky, Just what my tears provide. If I were a different kind of man I’d love without being loved back. I’d lift my hands up, I’d drink from that cup, And I’d give up my body for you. If I could give the love of a father For his children I’d give it all to you. If I were a different kind of man I’d take no more than what I need. I’d water that seed, I’d use it to feed, Every street corner poet I meet. But the tide it will rise And recede in my heart as it will. Nothing true remains still. If the material world is just a disguise Whose mouth and whose eyes does it hide? But why wear the mask? O, why the disguise? Is there even a face there to hide? Or is the mask in fact the face itself? Are you out there, or right here inside myself? If I were a different kind of man I’d never let up asking why. With courage inside, The black banner raised high, For the cause I would bleed myself dry, To keep a few men from living at the top Off the cost of this cross, Cause if God’s laissez-faire, They say they don’t have to bear their fair share. Famous last words right there. But the warrior who stands alone, He will find his heart has turned to stone. So, if my will is free, It’s on me. Which man will I be? Yes if my will is free, It’s on me. Which man will I be? Who will I be?
6.
Your hair was longer then, When you poured that first cup of tea On your kitchen floor with me, And we spoke ‘til morning. The wild oregano And the swallows seemed to know Some thought your face could not quite show When it was time to go. The ink and paper We folded to capture Some piece of the rapture Turned to ash in our palms. San Francisco Was so different from Paros, From New York, and all those Kitchen floors in between, In the throws of Youthful longing For belonging, And for something, Anything, anything at all To be true. I really hoped it would be you. The reddest wine, The bluest sky, Can’t answer why You loved an idea, Not a man. But if there’s an island In some ancient sea, Where we can just be, I’ll meet you on that shore. We were infinite, Or so it seemed. Was it even real, Or just a dream? It makes no difference to me.
7.
Walnut Heart 04:19
Though it breaks my heart, Home is where you are. You are where I am. Your ghost holds my hand. How far must I go To run away from home? Whatever the moon has always meant, Whatever the sun will always sing, Is you. The deepest secret nobody knows, The sky of the sky of a tree called life, The wonder that keeps the stars apart: I carry your heart, I carry your heart.
8.
I’d give you my heart, but it’s rusty From being left out in the rain. I’d give it a home and a name If I understood the point of this game. You see, I’ve got this thing called “idealism.” It’s not a big deal, but it hurts. The doctor gave me some booze for the pain And said, “you’ve got to die of something someday.” O, but my soul, it cries out to the Earth every night ‘Til morning light. I’ve got a cynical mind but a mystical heart. All these “-isms,” they tear me apart. What good is a branch with no fruit? What hath all our toil produced? One golden mountain surrounded by valleys of ash! Why not separate the wheat from the chaff? If capital “T” truth exists, Is this the best of all possible worlds? It’s sure not the one I had in mind, But uncertainty is less brutal with good wine. O, yes my soul, it cries out to the Earth every night ‘Til morning light. Though it kills me, still I must believe!
9.
I have dressed for adventure every day of my life, My tin helm on my head and wooden sword at my side. I went running half-naked through the neighbors’ front yard, And I still don’t understand what manmade borders are. I remember the song Kentucky taught me to sing Before the coal and gas men took Kentucky away from me. I am I, the Don Quixote of the suburbs! I call the living, I mourn the dead. Cause the talking heads on the TV Told me freedom isn’t free, And I said, “hell, it used to be!” But not in this economy. So if the market’s our new king, I’m gonna let freedom ring When I run out of words to sing. Like a doctor with no sick and dying to save, Like a soldier with no noble war to be waged, All the world-weary wait for their lives to begin While the Earth, ever onward, continues to spin. But I remember the shiver I felt in my spine Before I spent all my money on California wine. So I’ll stumble blind down to the harbor Where I keep all my escapes. I’ll leave the bottle where I found it And brave the white squall and the waves, In a sailboat called “Lonesome,” Across a sea called “Redemption,” Bound for a land of milk and honey, Where I’ll leave that sailboat at the shore Cause I won’t need it anymore. I am I, the mariner of modernity, What stranger tides are there than these?
10.
Georgia bound in the half-light, Never felt so right. Autumn mountains rising in the window, Burning like they know Our broken hearts were broke clean through. They burned in me and they burned in you. So we joined in their song. I don’t mind if the drive is long. Windows down, laughing like a clear creek. No need to speak. Felt like we were really going somewhere, November in our hair. I keep that feather on the windowsill To remind we why it’s worth trying still. And we cry every time we sing about that drive, For there are things we can’t forget, There are tears we cannot shake, But we learn to hold those memories with grace, And remember there are bigger things at stake. Settled down for the night, Firelight. Frost was forming on my knapsack, Midnight, bright black. The hayfield bed and the brittle air Were freezing cold, but I didn’t care, Cause at least I had you, And at least you had me. In the morning, walking through the forest, Tea and oranges. You said you were glad you came along. I said, “I’m sorry I was wrong.” And I cradled you like an old guitar, And we thanked the road that brought us so far. And I still don’t understand what rose up in us then, But the things we cannot know, The things we cannot comprehend, Whether they are false or not, my friend, Are the truest things about us in the end. Here’s our exit, almost over. Or if you want to, we could just keep going.
11.
Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, Quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes. Nullius in verba Amen Translation: Being not obliged to swear allegiance to a master, wherever the storm drags me to, I turn in as a guest. On the word of no one Amen
12.
Harvest moon so near above my eyes, Greet these singing embers as they rise. Mountains stripped for gold as black as sin, Love and rage, my heart ablaze within. My gaze into the river not returned, Blackened by the ancient stone they burn. One hundred years is long enough to learn! I look to the hills but they’re shrinking fast, And my love runs cold, and the water runs black, And I’m gasping for oxygen as my lungs fill with ash. Even here, you know, where no wild things grow, You still reap what you sow. You haul sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter, don’t you call me, cause I can’t go; I owe my soul to the company store. Digging faster won’t outrun disaster. The servant will bring justice, not the master. Flesh and blood, not false but not quite true, Hides that you are me and I am you. O, dear flame, make ashes of these bones, ‘til man and land at last together groan, “There’s a time to gather and to scatter stones!” (Chorus) You haul sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter, tell the people to gather their stones; We’re taking back our souls from the company store! Gather the stones! Gather the stones! Scatter the stones! Scatter the stones!
13.
Ex Imperium 03:42
What masters have I? What idols in the sky? None , save what my conscience keeps. None, save what my conscience keeps. What laws have I? What stone tablets to abide? None, save what my birth gave me. None, save what my birth gave me. What nation have I? To what flag do I pledge my life? None, save earth, and sea, and sky. Twixt you and I there are no lines. Vivos Voco
14.
Rain falls on the vineyard, We the branches growing on the vine. Where and when don’t matter, We hold everything we’ll be inside. Such great winds will shake us, Such a storm we’ll see before we die. Such strange hope unites us. One day it will crush us into wine. But I’m not afraid to die, I’m afraid of living without being alive. We rise and fall Time and time again Like two hawks, talons clasped, Tumbling through the air. We’re born and die To share the breath of life. Between love and fear, The living linger here. Vivos Voco

about

"Vivos Voco" (Latin), from "The Song of the Bell," by Friedrich von Schiller (1798), and later the motto of the revolutionary peasant journal, Kolokol (1857-1867).

credits

released October 20, 2014

All songs written and performed by Samuel Lockridge.
Recorded by Zachary Dyke.
Mixed and mastered by Trevor Richardson.
Mason Self: Drums
Timbre Cierpke: Harp
David Mahler: Dulcimer
Patrick Rush: Cello
Album photography by Laura E. Partain.

Nashville, TN, 2014.
Copyright 2014 Samuel Lockridge, all rights reserved.

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Samuel Lockridge Kentucky

Samuel Lockridge is a singer-songwriter, producer, sound designer, and theatre artist based in Lexington, Kentucky.

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