Tag Archives: song



By Susan Carnes

We hum along, know every word
So sad so sweet, and what we’ve heard
Resounds with what we know inside
Like a lustrous moon with the flowing tide.

Alone in a desert of longing.
Ahead shines a blaring Marquee
Hotel California
Satiate on euphoria
All wishes granted for free.
I indulged, ‘n freed inhibitions
Seared senseless in her neon glow
Gorged with broken dreams
Shattered at the seams
Imprisoned, I never can go.

Look Out!

Dark nights with murder and discord
A song about blood, death and gore
As Mac twists his jack knife
Stealing away life
And the bodies, they all hit the floor.
We sing of the noted musicians
All standing in line to go
The gallows are waiting
Life is abating
So dance as the Angel horns blow.

Dance On! Dance Crazy!

See, I like my women wild
I like undignified
Sleazy clothes that fit too tight
Enliven, energize, excite
Like me, a little on the trashy side.

Yeah Babe

Find me sittin’ on the dock o the Bay
Nothin’ left to live for, nothin’ comin’ my way
Life passin’ me by,
Soon enough we all die
So I’m wasting my time away.

But Try To Remember!

See the moonlight thru the pines
an old sweet song I find,
sings of the road back
keeping me on track
to Georgia, Georgia on my mind.

We hum along, know every word
So sad so sweet, and what we’ve heard
Resounds with what we know inside
like a lustrous moon with the flowing tide

So now its a song from the Piano Man
We’ve all shuffled in for some cheer
Sharing that drink we call loneliness
What are we all doing here
We’re stars when we sing Kareoke
Life pulsing along with the beat
Dancing like wind in the willows
Feeling whole and complete.

Feeling Whole and Complete.

The Music


singerAfter a long day of lifting stuff,
yanking, piling, dragging stuff,
shriveled and bent
from carrying the weight of the world
I wander in, set down the load,
and lose myself
to the music.
Look around
Watch the sun-break of song
erase lines of toil
from young again faces
As the master weaves waterfalls
and sounding whales
with threads of footfalls measuring time
for the music.
Memories, like autumn leaves
on the sighs of wind in trees
long ago cut and made into paper,
dance a flurry about.
As the fiddler fancy steps the beat,
his flying fingers
speaking secrets.
Abracadabra, and the curtain of keeping time unlocks,
so we can slip unencumbered into timeless space
with the music.