"Dying Flame" genre: Folk
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	"Dying Flame" is a political lament at the state of modern country music. I wrote and recorded this song for my first album, "Ichabod's Geography". It has a wonderful folk feel to it that is more reminiscent of "The Streets of Laredo" than a Country song, but I think of it as being sort of country-ish. There are also a great references to "Rhinestone Cowboy" and also a very cool reference to my Uncle. Go to "Story Behind the song" for more information.
	CD: Ichabod's Geography (1997)   Label: Mage Records Credits: words and music by Marc Gunn; Instruments-Autoharp
	Story Behind the Song I like some country music, but the current glamourized country music is a major turnoff for me. This song is my lament. How country music has been cheapened by the glitter. When I was a kid, my Uncle Odell in Atlanta, Texas would always shuffle up to me, smell my hair and tell me, "Yer not quite ready to go the rodeo." Apparently, he did that even when my dad was a kid. I was very upset though that eventually I grew up and never got to go to a rodeo. (and still haven't). But the dream remained. As he got older, Uncle Odell was quirkier than ever, and my Step-Mom told me that one day she was having a discussion with him and during the course of the discussion, he slowly spat a circle of tobacco chew on the ground around her feet. She was thoroughly disgusted, but it sure made a great addition to this song. More music from Marc Gunn, Bard at http://thebards.net/ Lyrics For more about Marc Gunn, Bard, visit http://www.marcgunn.com/. For more info about his Celtic Renaissance group, the Brobdingnagian Bards, visit http://thebards.net/, or find dozens of free Celtic downloads at http://mp3.com/thebards "Dying Flame" words and music by Marc Gunn When I was young I would dream of cowboys in the West ivory pistols and rhinestone vests I would dream of Indians bullriding and horses and dream of a gunfight and empty holsters but the songs of our heroes turned into songs of fame and the songs of our idols disappeared like a dying flame As I grew I would dream of rodeos I'd wait For my hair to smell just right but the day never came Just the spit of tobacco in a circle around my feet and the drawing of arrogance of brown leather teeth but the songs of our generation grew to songs of fame and the songs of our idols disappeared like a dying flame ch There were dreams of electric horsemen and rhinestone cowboys but the dreams we dreamed most of were dreams of gold records the songs grew stale formatted and drained the life of my idols like a slow dying flame I am much older now and my dreams seem to grow in the neon bustle of a nashville show and the rhinestone cowboys wear diamonds and pearls and glittering chaps sleep with silicone girls the songs of my heroes have started to drain the life of my idols like a slow dying flame

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