27 September, 2009

Drying Your Wings In The Sun

Little boat
You can shine through the day.
Little bird
On big hold
Delving wide...
They'd stay
But they won't ride
I've come to hear you say,
Hello
And lie.
Oh, its not the same.

Hey lie... It's not the same.

Hello
You disappear
Always
In the warm
And the pain
Drying your wings in the sun.

And whoa
Hello
And dare in life
Little soul
Little star streaked thing
That I'm so crazed about

Hello mistake
That on the run
You'll try to stay on the run
As your drying your wings in the sun.

Hello style
Broke the storm
Picked a holy word
But minds in faith
That makes one doubt
And makes them think things out.

Hello in heart little eyes
They say
Your drying
Your drying
Your drying your wings in the sun.


I wrote this song, in a beautiful maritime mood.  During a session of music I was playing as my Grandfather was dying.  The session name was JanSnowfall, as it was in the month of January and snowing out the windows of the school where I conjure what come to the bravely innocent (what wiser heads might call, "should have been knowing better".)  This song, one of five or six I will sing the rest of my life from that evening, was JanSnowfall Nine.  The sodium lights caught the snow, and somehow this song has something to do with my sister Angela, her husband Gary, and my nephew Liam.  I'm not completely comfortable saying that, which is usually a sign that it is true.  I hope you like the words. I know you'll love the way it sounds.  And I hope to have that on the web within a month or two.

6 comments:

Ande said...

Andy - A striking song. I would like to hear it preformed. For me, it expresses the thin line of life/death.

I came to think about something Jenny said about this the other day, we where talking about these things (loosely translated and somewhat out of context); "life seems to be like a kind of temporary bridge, and the problematic part of the whole life/death business, since death seemes to wait in every other corner."

Andy Coffey said...

Ande,

Thanks for your comment. And whatever you were talking about with Jenny, it strikes a chord with me. Bridges have the ability to simultaneously be absolutely crucial to you, and seem none the less like nothing more important then mere terra firma. In the US at least, in a car, you cross bridges all the time, that you don't even notice. They are merely the road. Death and life have such constructions, as well. You don't notice when you are young and healthy the enormous effort, and explosion of mystery and sheer bizarrness that you sitting and drinking your morning coffee with your lover, really is the the greater universe. Typical of human beings, all we care about is how we "feel," or at least, until I've had my coffee, I'd rather not talk to you about it, given how grumpy I am in the morning. Unless, of course, I am filled with tender love: even better than coffee, eh?
Death waits, in a sense. I believe that. But I also beleive that forty years ago, you two woderful people were just as dead as you'll be some few hundred years from now. Why it is that we suffer the "deadness" after we have crossed the bridge, so much more than the deadness across the "water" makes perfect sense in the mythology of the human mind: but no sense at all otherwise.
I'm made of atoms, and molecules and water that couldn't care less if they were part of the ocean, a hunk of clay, or in a beaker at your local asprin company. I appreciate them, but the feeling ain't mutual.
Ultimately I must, due to my ego, appreciate the bridge. But when it becomes something I am afraid of exiting, I might wonder: which death is worse: the one where I pretend that only the bridge is me, and so I am in constant danger around every corner? Or the one where I realize how egotistical it is to believe I know life from death. That I think death involves suffering, or that somehow the world isn't me without my incessant Email, I can't help but regard the best of my thoughts as a joke, next to the REAL world: not touchable by the human mind.

So I love your bridge concept. And, being human I fear death. But I don't admire that about myself, and the living.

Andy Coffey said...

Ande,

I just noticed something else about Jenny's quote that I didn't see before. Yes, she's right. Life is a temporar bridge, and THAT"S the problematic part of the whole life/ death business. For death is in every other corner. I love it. As shouldn't surprise me, she's said it rather more succinctly then I. And I love that, if it's out of context, you picked it from the context that was your original conversation. I get excited, and sometimes the ideas come before I realize what I'm doing.
This bridge idea of Jenny's is pretty damned profound. There's probably some game theorist out there who is trying to figure out the best STRATEGY, given the disappearing bridge and OPTIONS at hand. Give a man a PHd, and...

Jenny said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Jenny said...

Andy,

A very poignant beautiful song that feels ethereal and firm at the same time, as sorrow and love. The imagery and meaning here presented in short lines capture me full attention. I am looking forward to hear this as a song performed by you, Andy Coffey, singer/songwriter.

Thanks for talking about that thing I said about the bridge. It must seem like I am a pretty paranoid person, expecting death to appear in every corner… But you understood what I meant and I am thankful for that. Nothing can be taken for granted and I suppose I am a bit superstitious. It is nice that I was able to say something sensible for once (I talk a lot and often twaddle).

Andy Coffey said...

Jenny,

I spend a lot of time with all kinds of people, and let me tell you: the most confident person in the world is the person who is in coontrol of their environment. Everyone "twaddles" when nobody gives a shit what they think. And you and Ande always make perfect sense to me.
Being confident all the time is usually a sign that your not paying very great attention, also: how do I confidently hold the hand of my dying friend. Confidently say goodbye. How do I not babble in tears to the one who tells me, crying herself, that she must go, and no, there will be no conversation.
How do I confidently enjoy a billion souls without enough to eat, or hope for their children.
It's nice to sometimes let the sorrows for the world go (isn't that what we are doing here?) but, the only confidence I care about is being "with" "truth" with people, and it's hard enough to do that, for me, without striking a pose, or trying to be right.

Thanks for your comments. I think you'll enjoy some of my other songs even more. Some of them are actually quite silly and fun. And of course, I write endlessly about why, why, why...