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Kit Blandmp3.com/Kit_Bland

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    "The Poet's Next Stand"genre: Folk
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    An abridged, live version. Recorded at the Elbow Room in New York City, December 22, 2002.
    Credits: Recorded & Engineered by Larry Oakes, Mastered by Tony Bacon

    Story Behind the Song
    I wanted to write a song that captured the essence of existence through the minds of visionary poets (e.g., William Blake, Noel Black). Leaving out the middle verse in this live recording (there was a time constraint) meant that the full meaning wasn't translated. Oh well. I've posted the complete lyrics. (The song is still brand new as of this writing; it is sure to evolve.)

    Lyrics
    Verse: 1
    Raised outside of London
    dirt floor under a straw bed.
    Seeing things noone else could see,
    visions runnin' round his head.
    He gave up his mind to the images.
    the colors, words, and rhymes.
    A man with nothing holding him,
    no relationship to time.

    Verse 2:
    In a tree full of angels
    in a field near Peckham Rye.
    He saw the face of God looking at him,
    staring down from on high.
    When his brother died young
    in the winter of '87.
    He watched his spirit rise in joy,
    on his way to heaven.

    Chorus:
    He can count his friends on one hand
    and his blisters on two feet.
    Don't know where he'll make his next stand,
    or what he's gonna eat.
    The poet in his garden,
    he'll raise his hand in trust
    and sing his songs of innocence
    and experience for us.

    Verse 3:
    Words and images poured out him,
    projected visions on the page.
    Mythological knowledge,
    a yearning for the Golden Age.
    All religions are one, he claimed
    with a wisdom not yet known.
    He heard his muses call to him
    in a language all his own.

    (Chorus)

    Verse 4:
    These days we got nothing,
    we got everything, we got [poop].
    Inspiration on the street corners,
    if you want it, you can pay for it.
    And the poet's still in his garden
    raising the crops for himself.
    Storing his harvest for the wintertime,
    putting wisdom up on a shelf.

    (Chorus)

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