August 2004
Tucupita, Caracas and Mérida
Venezuela

Ever since the end of us
I’ve been talking, talking
To statues of Simón Bolívar
Who’s never asked me wrong or right.

And if I’d only surrender
To his clean swept marble steps
I could sleep before Simón Bolívar
For 360 more nights.

While I’m waiting for a word.

I’m waiting for a word.

Ever since I last stood before Bolívar
I’ve been working at a desk until I
Barely recognize my life.

Wrestling with the legacy
Of pointed words and staring eyes
And staring far too long in a mirror
In a harsh judgmental light.

Y me hace falta; me hace falta
I am missing something every night.

I’m looking for a light.

We’ve been quiet far too long
Your unquiet mind that questions right and wrong.
But if you’d hold me just this once and mean it
Under statues of Simón Bolívar
I could believe in you again.

In the dark I’ve fumbled
Past & present, future pain
Come clarity before Bolívar
I make the choice to change my life.

I’ll be in the plaza
Collecting courage for one more fight
I cannot count on talking to statues of Simón Bolívar
Statues of Simon Bolívar
If I’m to have you in my life.

And I don’t have the answers; I don’t have the answers
But I’d like to look together if we might.

I’m looking for a light
Together tonight.

Elizabeth
I believe in many things
But none here today.

Dance
With extravagance
Elegant at night.

From a high hotel
I watch colonial churches
And write our lives in a line.

For I’m looking from La Paz
At 12,000 feet
And it’s dry and cold.

Elizabeth
Don’t we tire
We could write our entire lives in a line.
A single line.

11th floor
To the cobblestone
Lights in archways below.

I am so removed
At this altitude.
I’m looking from La Paz
We could write our lives
We could sacrifice
We could set the price
I know…..

We could write our lives in a line.

I was made
For darker days
A future vision
Things fall apart.

Remain unchanged
Four point restraint
I’m in opposition
And permanently marked.

We could write a life in a line.

The singer’s job
Is to entertain
But an artist tries to teach.
And the listener’s job
Is to listen well
To words as well as beats.

Elizabeth
I cannot focus on the tedium
Creation beckons me.

And Elizabeth
I suspect
I’m becoming more
Than anything we’ve seen.

March 30, 2007

On the eve of war we marched half a million strong
But she and I weren’t quite getting on.
She said something’s come between us
But it’ll be OK
When we get to Washington, Washington.

The storm marked the march’s end
That February and
The trains could not take her home.
So we danced in the drifts
But I said something I cannot recall
And lost her somewhere in the snow.

I might fight for her, knowing my mistake
Just to show her we could change, people change.
I might ask her to try again today
But she wed a better man
So there’s not much I can say.

Hey Washington, make me a better man
Its 3 years I been gone, I’ve been gone.
Hey Washington, make me a better man
This time I lost someone, lost someone.

Am I coming home?

In my time out west I witnessed beauty, I guess
But I still walk alone.
And I’ll seek purpose in the city
From Shaw to U Street
Through Washington, Washington.

On a vent before the White House
Lying in the streets
Ancient men who might as well be me
Their tattered coats tell the tale of contrast in a country
Sleep the soul of America in Washington, D.C.

Hey Washington, make me a better man
It is 3 years I been gone, I’ve been gone.
Hey Washington, make me a better man
This time I lost someone, lost someone.

We need dignity, some way to stand tall.
Without love, I’ll find another call.
I should hand out blankets to my brothers on the mall
Who sleep under names on the Vietnam wall.

Am I coming home? Not at all.

Hey Washington
Hey Washington
Hey Washington, make me a better man
This time I lost someone, lost someone
Washington.

I wrote a call to subversion
In the margins of my sermon
In a service last Sunday.

Losing faithful to the purging
Losing lives to coercion
This was never God’s way.

Now this Evita, I haven’t seen her
You lied to me Argentina
But I won’t do the same.

I’m underground in my nation
A theology of liberation
Live to pray another day.

Killing time in the Southern Cone!

These are the front lines
The junta high crimes
I’ve a right to speak my mind
But the AAA knows where to draw the line.

A vacant garage turned to torture
I’m disappeared; they earn a fortune
Selling children of the dead.

It’s high time I introduce ya
Nuestra fea guerra sucia
Unrecorded until yet.

So tell the story for tomorrow
I’m Dom Helder Camara
I’m the future of the past.

Por ahora, Por mañana
I’m Dom Helder Camara
And I won’t be the last.

El curo del Cono Sur!

On the front lines
The junta high crimes
I’ve a right to speak my mind
And you can kill me but you’ll never keep me in line.

I miss you most on Sundays
In the evenings
In the evenings.

When I face the week alone in a panic
And I hate it
And I’m fading.

‘Cause I’ve lost a bit of time
I ought to have spent giving.
And I could miss my life
Working over living.

The hour’s late and I should really hit those books
But they’ll be here tomorrow.
What I should really do is listen for a while
To understand your sorrow.

Tell me, tell me sister
What do you believe in?
Tell me, tell me
But do not speak from reason.

Tell me, tell me sister
What do you believe in?
Tell me, tell me
But do not speak from reason.
We only take these jobs
Out of fear of getting lost.
I think we only write these books
Because we’re afraid to talk.

Wait up for me I bed a little longer
I’ve one more song to write
And then I
Will turn out
The light.

From 14 on
I listened to the river.
And voices still are strong
In the currents.

I hear chorus, I hear clash
So I can’t listen in class.
Yet in my peace I find
I’m Siddhartha on his raft.

Like Herman Hesse
I suffer long for peace.
And maybe I find less
The more I seek.

I can’t relate
So I wait and think and fast.
And in my peace I find
I’m Siddhartha on his raft.

Hey Siddhartha! Push that raft!

I know
You think
I don’t see you at all.
I’m a distant wolf of the steppes,
And oh so critical.
I hear, currents, chorus, chaos, clash
The unity comes through.
See, I see more than most
And I see you
I see you.

Today
Words and thoughts
Are my craft.
And in my peace I find
I’m Siddhartha
On his raft.

I think and wait and fast.

When I moved west to the East Bay
The sun came constant for 40 days.
Over time, I tired of smiles
Fashioned to fit the rays.
Man, I was made for darker days.

Uncertainty is never far away
You can read it
In the desperate minds of men.
Who hide their concern
In the pews and lecterns
‘Til dark days come for them.

Man, I was made for darker days
Oh-ha, I was made for darker days.

Everything is serious to me
I see the consequence in small things.
You’ll ignore me, denounce me
And you’ll frown when I speak.
But wait for the trembling of a leaf.
I’m feeling out infinity.

I only want to be of use.
To protect a people or an idea.
I know there’s a time to amuse
But one day these fortunes’ll disappear.

When the festivities fade
With the declining terms of trade
I’ll make sense
For I was made for darker days.

Maybe I can explain
My unhappiness away
If I believe
I was made
For darker days.

Man, I was made for darker days
Oh-ha, I was made for darker days.