Golden Age of When (Words by Thom; Music by David L) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: String Driven Things (So you ready boys and girls? We got to do a take two. Shhh . . . alright . . . I was not walking down the street, and I Was not looking for anything I found no allies, no friends, no companions, And I left my cliches far behind me Musicians of course had all given up their music, they'd all Hidden away in some job in the city Sometimes they practiced but most of all they longed for the days When they could tour bands And feel so pretty There was nostalgia I felt like ghost of Christmas past you know When Santa Claus comes down the chimney And no one is living in the presents, and They all talk about the . . . the way they want to go, they say Wish I had a band . . . Wish I could go on tour once more Ah, "Time" the Golden Ages When we could play for evermore I remember their eyes were clouds over horizons on blue California Talking about the Golden Age of When, and All they're living in, is gone . . . all gone Now, middle-aged mortgages Seeking full employment Laid off from corporations once more And they need the income And music won't sustain them Don't ask them to change, man they've got the Riffs in their hearts That they've played before They're not going to take risks anymore, more On the stock exchange They've got their shares, cuz they're Watching out for Where they're gonna go yeah It was a promise in the kids to every musician That this could have some bliss in the paradise experience But the nightclub is beer and vomit And the boys swept out like old bubbles yeah How many retired surfers sitting on the beach of infinity Counting the particles As if they held them or owned on to something No one will be owning up to anyone or anything yeah The man with machines is selling our dreams He's a program creation . . . There's no audience coming to your gigs So you get a job So you can survive, but in your mind You're still high flying yeah . . . Now who took the music, and gave it to the kids And the corporate executives own all the riffs They know the markets and the demographics And they say that nobody will buy these licks, yeah, yeah And they drag out the dinosaurs for one last final tour Before the band explodes, you'd better see them Pay hundred dollars for a ticket man Because you never know whether they're alive or dead yeah And now you're talking to your friends They're all musicians And therefore come to the same decision There ain't no money to be made in the music You better keep your day job if you want to stay here yeah Sometimes at midnight you get the strange dream That you're out there playing your electric scene You've got the riffs in your golden dreams Why can't you do what you really want to yeah No one buys a CD, there is no industry The record stores have closed down, bankruptcy You can't see there ain't no Hollywood to see It's just another dream . . . coming to an ending.

Only One Question (Words by Thom; Music by David L, Don, Jay, Michael) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Organ There is only one question That is what will happen next In the River of Xperience Most of us have drowned When we come up for breath, we have a new skin on We say we have learned something, from this new situation Can't walk on the water, with these holes in our feet And you can't drink the water, when it's in the gutters of the street And don't trust the water, when it's turned green And yellow waters are dangerous to be seen There is only one question What will happen to us Now that we have this knowledge And this experience We say we are no longer children. though we are not parents We say we're all learning all the time, but this is all new to us Never been in this island moment When the bridges are all down around Earthquakes around us shining Holes within the ground We say we are new here if something's déjà vu These wars they're all reporting perhaps they've happened to you, and . . . Inter-domestic, inter-relationships, sinking intimacies, quicksand, traps, and swamps Rising in this moment, so angelic We say we have learned some new things and it is all so sweet But then it comes again Reminding us we have forgotten We have forgotten too much Can't remember yesterday's breakfast Can't remember my past lives Can't remember other planets Can't remember the script of how to survive On this strange planet On this blue sea in the sky Twisting through the darkened spaces Still not answering why, why On this silent moment All the bridges break The stresses and the fractures We cannot take Pressures of relationships, stress and fractures We say how can this be happening to us There is only one question left What will we be able to do next The past is gone a long time from us And all we've got is this island moment No where else to go, one planet No where else to know, just us The secrets shed with solitaries What is to become of us Gods have all turned blind and violent Goddesses all turned away from us The children have all turned dark and silent Send off the soldiers as sacrifice There is only one question What is to happen next Hiding in this holy moment In the broken down temples Templates of experience no longer apply to any of us The bible of believing is battered and broken and the Torah means nothing anymore Holy land of flame, ah Battered in the brain, ah England's script the same, and The lines are worn and said Too many times again asking the question What is to happen to us in this moment Where can we go if there’s nowhere to go One planet, and what do we know What do we know, what do we know What we’ve forgotten, what we’ve forgotten

Pony Up (Myth of Reality) (Words by Thom; Music by David L) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don: Horns OK boys let's pony up this orchestra! You know sometimes I get to thinking About the difference between image and reality I think about those cowboys in movies And how they got their cellphones on their hips Instead of the gun, they got their little pager Instead of their horse, they got horse power I think of them in the wild west With air conditioning and the SUV Myth vs. Reality And the wild west as far as I can see Swing dancing, line-dancing, obedience Take oil if you will Suck it up up from the Texas soil And then they sell it for high prices To the people who own it in Texas, well Myth vs. Reality It sure seems to me . . . That we love the myth of the lone individual The duel and the guns and the city And the horse lives forever In western movies, wide as screen Yee-haw I see them Saturday night on sixth street All playing Johnny Cash with their women They swipe their credit cards out And ask a girl out the door, they say You got country, you got western And she smiles as big as a window With a brain as small as a pea And everybody out there is dancing Cuz they've chosen myth over reality Myth over reality Now dig up the corpse of Buddy Holly And The Flatlanders rejoin again And Butch Hancock talks to Joe Ely About times in Lubbock when They'd be sitting around the porch in the 60s Not famous or rich like now, but now they're indulging in Nostalgia about times then, and making money off the myth of the music of western man Now I know there's no wild west anymore That's why we've got to invade forever more And the only gun duel you're going to see are smart weapons In the forthcoming Christian epic armageddon or rapture But still we love this idea that there's a Gary Cooper out there Or, there's John Wayne waiting to be president There's Ronald Reagan has mind of his own And one day we trust he will find it Meantime the wild west is screened on every television on the planet Oh come on wild ones Ride those horses off to the horizon One day you can be Billy Bob Thornton One day you can be Dennis Quaid One day you can be the one who's a second hand line Out there in every western movie that's ever been remade High Noon! Shane! Oh yeah, Here they come again and again 2:30 AM in the morning I'm watching my tv screen And the thing they replay at infinitum is The ghost of the American dream Ghost of the tv screen Yee-haw Ride em cowboys and cowgirls Step right up ladies and gentleman Buy your mythology here Yes sir, you can be part of a western bit player As far as I can see Get that swinging bull going We'll have ourselves a party We'll wear white plastic hats And talk real slow Live like just like in a western movie Just like a myth of reality Just like you wish it could be With a cellphone on your hip as reality Yee-haw

The Choice (Words by Thom; Music by David L) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Organ And to every man's life There comes a time When he must make his final decision Who am I and what do I stand for Am I for peace or love or am I for war Every man's life comes a simple choice Gone to be silent all your life or raise your voice May come when you least expect it to The choice will always come to you You may think that you can avoid it yeah There is no avoiding it right here Every day when you wake up my dear Choice is near The choice is clear What will you do Will you take a world of received influences and simply digest them Will you be original on public inspection Will you be a recluse hiding in a monastery or come out for the world to see What you gonna do How you gonna be When the choice is only slave or to be free When there's nowhere else that will be a sanctuary Who will you be Who will you be You may say I'm just a my day job Just a simple worker, just a poor old slob You may say I've got no responsibilities Still you choose and not to be free One day you wake up, there's that mirror Look inside the mirror What do you see, a stranger You've never seen this face before What do you choose Peace or war You can play music forever You can pick up a gun to defend yourself Everything is choice In every singular sweet moment You pick yourself up and you dust yourself off the shelf And there is no evasion Nor deferring of this now Everyone comes to this moment of choice somehow And the crossroads call your name at every midnight What will you do Surrender or fight Tonight in your dreams it will come again Usually at midnight to the dawn my friend Insomnia comes and settles in A warning from you, your decision Who will you be when the morning light comes thru Who will you be What will you do You've only got tonight to make a choice Will you be silent, or Raise your voice . . . We all know people have withdrawn a lot Behold the empty card, that's all they've got But even in the choice of making none You're still making a decision, on . . .

Retirement Blues (Words by Thom; Music by David L, Jay, Michael, Don) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Organ We were talking about retirement About what we're going to do when we're 90 Go onstage in a wheelchair With a cripple's cane, you'll see us there — ah blues It's the thing to choose when you're settling down You can still be groovy when you're 90, yeah Young man that can't play it They have too many notes they just slay it But the blues is meant to be when you're over 60 and experienced Ah, women come up to my hotel room No 19-year-old would say Cuz you're a blues man in a session And all you want to do is play . . . Now musicians at 60 Are just getting aged and pretty At the age of 72 They can play for all of you See them on the stage, yeah See them play, yeah It's the blues They got the stories to tell Experiences to sell you Cuz that's what they do The experience blues Now when you're young and wild You're a wild child And it's appropriate too That you should be on public view And shine like a golden smile But there's another I'll go on That comes when you're mature son When you're over the age You get up and play And you're telling the truth and it slays them You say I sold my soul Don't want to be controlled That's why I play these blues No god, no devil, no priest, no goddess No one can hold you When you choose to express You got the stories That's what they're listening to Like what you did when you were 65 And what you'll do when you're 72 That's what you do when you're playing the blues We were talking about retirement But there ain't no retirement for a blues man A blues man comes onstage And when that blues man starts to play All things become you Because that's what the blues can do for you Sing away the pain And what can a child know That these blues can show Bring on the old we know And let 'em low Let 'em low . . . That's why you say it's the blues Cuz that's what you do . . . sing the blues

Santa Somewhere (Beach Blanket Waltz) (Words by Thom; Music by David L) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Bruno The orchestra is playing There were palm trees swaying The bass player was staring He was told where to be there The whole world started Dancing in the air there Were swirling like autumn leaves Lifting up above us Clouds passing by the windows Sunshine coming out in the morning Golden as wave pouring upon the Sandy beaches of Santa Somewhere Wondering were we really there yet Paradise they say is a parking spot In the middle of the city plot You may find that there's not a lot of Space for human beings Human beings came from space They say the stars are a final place, but No one knows that it's No disgrace to forget your origins Constellations call our name Saying star children are you still the same Pleiades on Sirius A Do you remember you came from us? Some day you wake up And wonder where the clouds went Starry skies and everything is blue, and You remember something like chasing the tale of a dragon Alcoholic inside the brain says Why are all these changes When I woke up I was alone, and Reached out to the telephone, and I Wondered who it was in this home Inside me, inside me You may travel across the beaches Go to forests and foreign places Say that you have these languages, but Still they look at you and you have no face, and It's no disgrace when You come from foreign place and They ask you questions just to pass the borders, and You can't explain when It's all gone and . . . It was here a moment ago It's not here anymore . . . I can't feel and I don't know This familiarity This beach blanket waltz This surfboarding sunrise These horoscopes These star map charts These hieroglyphs These inscriptions on ancient palaces What does it mean, when Every grain of sand is a universe, and Every bird is made of feathers, and However high you get There's always Universes beyond the verses . . . Diseases with no name Claim my being on my sleeve They say they're part of me but I say No, you've got the wrong reality Can't you simply find your own Inner manifest destiny and they say What do I mean? This is no strange dream I am awakened Even when I turn around I feel forsaken How can this be How can this be Happening to me

Everybody Knows (Words by Thom; Music by David L) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Piano Everybody knows that Everybody goes Somewhere else they don't know Sooner or later, and Everybody knows Which way it goes, when You're not on track, and you don't look back cuz That's the way it goes When everybody knows, but They're not sharing with you cuz You don't know what's going on They're all speaking languages Talk to the sky, and talk to the earth, but What can you do, and everybody knows but you, so You say you tune in . . . you're so intuitive You're Mr. Empathy, and Mr. Peace and Love, but you You know they know of your inner conflicts between What you say and what you believe And everybody knows The difference that grows Between the acts and facts Beliefs and desires like that They watch like a witness at an accident They give their disposition To anyone who listen They'll tell you the document of where you were And where you went They're all watching Like camera's intersection Red lights in their eyes Terminators in disguise And everybody knows except you And everybody glows With their radioactive certainty of truth You mingle at the parties And their conversation laughter, and The cocktail ladies come and go Whispering like Michelangelo Clones, imitation, museums you say Like replicants in these last modern days Sculptures of perfection Artistic portraits Attitudes they sell to Anyone who'd buy them Price tags on view in shop windows clear as New coming thru they say They're laughing too Everybody knows The way the fashion shows Everybody knows what's new and What should be done Everybody knows but You are the only one the outside the desolate the derelict the last lost man Walking the supermarket Holding his specials in his hand The girl at the stand Laughs, giggles Suppresses a stare Strangers all known Everybody knows except them, which way to go The crowd's all happy They've all paid their money Just to see the show They're an audience you know Man comes onstage He pours his heart's blood out And everybody applauds, that's What they've come out to see Everybody knows Entertainment shows Demand us sacrifice Just like everyone of us If we wanted to Could shine like sun on view If we really wanted to, but Some choose the shadows To the dream inside their skin By lining with The highest inspiration, and Everybody knows What they must leave behind them Refugees and war zones Leaving all possessions And everything you hold turns to gold turns to coal And everything you are Wish upon a falling star . . . Everybody knows The dream that sometimes glows Only by the turning away Can you hear what Everybody else says . . . this is the way . . .

Both The Light and The Dark (Words by Thom; Music by David L, Don, Jay, Michael) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars, Electric Conga Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Electronic Things & Arrangement ... the light and the dark ...

River of Xperience (Only One Question Remix) (Words by Thom; Music by Chris, David L, Don, Jay, Kev, Michael) David L: Acoustic and Electric Guitars Jay Radford: Electric Guitars Michael Clare: Bass Guitar Thom the World Poet: Vocals, Lyrics Don Falcone: Organ Kev Ellis: Harmonica Chris Hopgood: Guitar Mychael Merrill: Conga There is only one question That is what will happen next In the River of Xperience Most of us have drowned When we come up for breath, we have a new skin on We say we have learned something, from this new situation Can't walk on the water, with these holes in our feet And you can't drink the water, when it's in the gutters of the street And don't trust the water, when it's turned green And yellow waters are dangerous to be seen There is only one question What will happen to us Now that we have this knowledge And this experience We say we are no longer children. though we are not parents We say we're all learning all the time, but this is all new to us Never been in this island moment When the bridges are all down around Earthquakes around us shining Holes within the ground We say we are new here if something's déjà vu These wars they're all reporting perhaps they've happened to you, and . . . Inter-domestic, inter-relationships, sinking intimacies, quicksand, traps, and swamps Rising in this moment, so angelic We say we have learned some new things and it is all so sweet But then it comes again Reminding us we have forgotten We have forgotten too much Can't remember yesterday's breakfast Can't remember my past lives Can't remember other planets Can't remember the script of how to survive On this strange planet On this blue sea in the sky Twisting through the darkened spaces Still not answering why, why On this silent moment All the bridges break The stresses and the fractures We cannot take Pressures of relationships, stress and fractures We say how can this be happening to us There is only one question left What will we be able to do next The past is gone a long time from us And all we've got is this island moment No where else to go, one planet No where else to know, just us The secrets shed with solitaries What is to become of us Gods have all turned blind and violent Goddesses all turned away from us The children have all turned dark and silent Send off the soldiers as sacrifice There is only one question What is to happen next Hiding in this holy moment In the broken down temples Templates of experience no longer apply to any of us The bible of believing is battered and broken and the Torah means nothing anymore Holy land of flame, ah Battered in the brain, ah England's script the same, and The lines are worn and said Too many times again asking the question What is to happen to us in this moment Where can we go if there’s nowhere to go One planet, and what do we know What do we know, what do we know What we’ve forgotten, what we’ve forgotten