Where The River Meets The Bay/ Expecting Heroes

Days Of Hope & Glory
Up the stairs she flies, her hair like wheat in a windy field
Throws the porch door open wide, moves like water in my memory
The radio on, an Elvis song whips through the window like a child gone wrong
Long gone, long gone are the days we stole like thieves

They were days of hope and glory, they’re in everybody’s story
Throw the windows open wide; I can see her dress swayin side to side
That same white moon that shines on me also shines on her

Hangin’ sheets on the line, she says “You’re the lucky one.”
“Nothin’ ahead or behind you, like you dropped here straight from the sun.”
Zilwaukee road, drivin’ home, affection dancin’ on our whispered tones.
She’s found that place, that solemn space, between growing up and growing old.
They were days of hope and glory; they’re in everybody’s story.
So throw the window open wide; I can see her dress swayin’ side to side
Will she come back?  To the days of hope and glory?

I watch her fade away, tucked out shirt like a rebel flag.
If she had words to say, I’ll hear ‘em  echo day to day.
I took the only thing that we believed in and burned it on that lonesome road.
There’s no saving face, no saving grace, in living for a time before.

They were days of hope and glory, they’re in everybody’s story
Throw the windows open wide; I can see her dress swayin side to side
That same white moon that shines on me also shines on her

Where The River Meets The Bay
The airless twilight turns; Jenny’s hair sways.
She’s singin’ something in Italian, “Quel che si perde, si puo rignaolagnese?”
(What is lost, can we then regain?)
It’s not a song after all, just a hymn held on the wind.

Across the light-starved yard, Bobby’s heart aches.
He sees her hair fall and hears her song; she’s stepped into the air
Now she’s gone.
We’re here, we’re there, we’re not here after all.
For those of us left behind, there’s a way we ought to live
I wanna meet you, I’ll meet you...where the river meets the bay.

He runs to the window; he can see her fade
He runs to the window, his baby with her long hair, his baby with her long long hair

The airless twilight turns, Jenny’s hair sways.
She whispers something in Italian: “I seek the naked heart.”
We’re here, we’re there, we’re not here after all
For those of us left behind, there’s a way we ought to live
I wanna meet you, I’ll meet you...where the river meets the bay..

Across Decker’s Field
My mother waves, across Decker’s field.  In a sleeveless shirt, her hand above her eyes
to hide the midday sun. I can hear her voice, like an August song straight from God.
She turns to walk away; I’m lookin for the words to say.

16 gone the day we shed our skin.  Ridin’ Malkus Hill through the high bend grass wondering where to begin. Suki cut like glass, she cut right past my original sin. She turns to run away, still lookin for the words to say.
Dance you young lovers, dance in the night. Dance you young lovers, we’ll dance til the light, til the light...
I want to meet you darlin, down where the air is thick and sweet.  Wanna meet you by Five Points Church, meet you down by the pylons.  Down where the bells ring in the evening heat...I wanna meet you, I wanna meet you ...

What’s kept me alive through out all these years?  Was it the quiet sound of a distant dream
ringin’ in my ears?  Now I can hear my mother callin’ me but I just can’t see her.
I turn to run away, but I walk into another day.
Dance you young lovers, dance in the night. Dance you young lovers, we’ll dance til the light, til the light...

Union Town
Well I’ve got blood on my hands, an ancient lie on my lips.
I’m gonna shed my skin tonight, gonna burn my fingerprints.
Fool that I am, hit by the lightning of desire; waited on the rain, but lightning’s often before fire.
This is still a Union Town tonight.

Way out old Stover Road, there’s a clearing in the wild.
I’ve seen plows crackin’ hard ground and dead birch branches piled.
I’m headin’ out there to dance in the sour haze, next to the dry lake, thick with unstirred waste.
This is still a union town tonight.

Hard rain’ll fall, hard rain’ll fall, good hard rain, good for us all.
Hard rain’ll fall, hard rain’ll fall, clear the sky, good for us all.

Now I’m not young, I can count the things gone bad.
They’re dressed up and scattered as things I never had.
You’re not among them, you alone are clean.  You are the sky cleared, you are all I see.
This is still a union town tonight.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
And she says, “This wicked world won’t last. These things are moving far too fast.”
So she gets tattooed every time it rains and says to friends, “Every day’s the same.”
She wakes up at twilight and deals dope out of Gusoline Alley.
She walks home at midnight, a lost soul in the Saginaw Valley.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Little Jim is an acrobat–from wire to wire, from this to that.
He makes the scene in a backwards hat and works the room like a diplomat.
He wakes up at twilight and deals ass down at Gusoline Alley.
He’s well gone by midnight, a lost soul in the Saginaw Valley...
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.

            Any way the wind blows, every day the rain falls.
She says, “This wicked world won’t last.  These things are moving far too fast.”
So she calls her Mom on the telephone and cries out loud that she’s so alone.
She drives home at midnight, there’s a light on in the Saginaw Valley.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.

The Gypsum Fair

The weeds bend west; Lizzie’s barefoot, walkin slowly ‘cross her bedroom floor.
Her thirty years and all she counted on fall like dust on her slatted blinds.
She takes the barrette from her hair, drapes her dress across the chair.
She’ll act her age, be Daddy’s girl, one last time.

With the window wide she hears all the lonely sigh. She puts on Patsy Cline and starts to cry.
The things she pawned, the wild wreckage spared, to live a life her mother recognized.
She feels the air warm on her skin, holds her shoulders so bone thin.
Without a sound lets it begin; this is how it goes.

She can ride High Banks Road in the pitch black air; she can dance all night at the Gypsum Fair.
She can change her clothes, change her hair, now that love won’t make her safe.

She hears her name whispered on the summer wind, sees a time to begin again.
She takes the car keys from the hook, wastes her time with one last look.
Turns the wheel toward Hammell Beach...this is how it goes.

She can ride High Banks Road in the pitch black air; she can dance all night at the Gypsum Fair.
She can change her clothes, change her hair, now that love won’t make her safe.

Iowa
Well the wind gave us a time, then the river started to rise.
When the West Fork federal levee broke, we knew the Coralville Reservoir was full.
I drove my family north to high ground.  The kids got quiet when they first heard the sound.
As we watched the rotten cornsilk sway, the Iowa swept the Fuller barn away.

            All through the night we watched the rain and wondered.
All through the night we watched the rain and knew.
That the bridge at Abel Island was washed out south of Marshalltown.
And the bells at old St. Mary’s were ringing for the lost and found.
It was the night the fields were swallowed; they collected in the hollow.
It was the night the Iowa rose to wash the land away.

There’s a woman lives on the far side.  I think about her with my family dry.
Did she hear the water rushin’ by her door...did she make it out alive?
Now the mud’s starting to stink and the dawn has broken blank as ink.
When this lawless stream is still again, we’ll all have work to do.

            All through the night we watched the rain and wondered.
All through the night we watched the rain and knew.
That the bridge at Abel Island was washed out south of Marshalltown.
And the bells at old St. Mary’s were ringing for the lost and found.
It was the night the fields were swallowed; they collected in the hollow.
It was the night the Iowa rose to wash the land away.

The Beautiful Go Blameless
Becky Forbes packs a United van line with the help of her brother’s friends.
She’s drivin’ down to meet her husband in Mobile; she’s packin’ dishes from her wedding day.
Is it a memory?  Cold and lonely?  The way we live now...the beautiful go blameless.

Dead child’s mother singin’ dead Baptist raisin’ songs, sellin’ ribs from a Jane Street door.
She lost her man to the Grey Iron Foundry; lost her boy to the cocaine war.
Is it a memory?  Cold and lonely?  The way we live now...the beautiful go blameless.

There’s a faith that goes beyond all this. There’s a place worth fighting for.  Where ravens cower and eagles soar...and the beautiful don’t go blameless anymore.

Light Of The World
There’s a bar out in Carrolton with hubcaps on the wall and the best jukebox you’ve ever heard
when you’re shootin’ that 8 ball.
There’s a woman at the bar; her voice is shiny, rough and thick. 
She’s talkin’ to herself tonight, eatin bratwurst on a stick.
The world’s alright tonight.

She says, “I was a lovely piece, a truly lovely lovely piece, and I never lie and I never cry,
only when I hear Elvis Presley sing.”
Now I’m standing by myself wonderin’ why we feel this need to shout out
all the things we’re not and whisper when we bleed.
The world’s alright tonight.
You’ve got to save yourself before you can save the world.
There’s no one on the road, no one on the lake.  
But someone’s by themselves tonight with somethin’ they can’t take.
The world’s alright tonight.

Expecting Heroes
Weren’t we to be the passioned ones?  Born in 1958; we were the world souls.
And I heard you Frank Sinatra, said you’d fly me to the moon.
What a strange time in my life to get camera shy.
But this world is a ring of spells, with secrets it just won’t tell.  Through the rock I cut my road
and pray my restlessness won’t show.  Watch us go through the years...expecting heroes.

I see my father comin’ home every night.  Me and my sister waitin’ for him out on Washburn Park.
He turns the corner in a brand new Chevrolet, painted with colors both proud & dark.
But this world is a ring of spells, with secrets it just won’t tell.  Through the rock I cut my road
and pray my restlessness won’t show.  Watch us go through the years...expecting heroes

I see a young boy, thinks he’s Superman; red cape & tights, flyin’ like he thinks he can.
He’s gettin’ used to flyin at a very early age; who’ll catch him when he’s cryin,’ fallin’ down in rage?
Watch him go...Expecting Heroes

King Of The Summer Hotel
Watch the wild child dance in the foxfire,
while the wind brings the sound of the trucks runnin’ south on 13.
Mary you were so young when we met out in those open fields.
You had to be the craziest mama I swear I’ve ever known.  You were alive last time I looked.
Did you grow tired? Did you grow old?  Did you believe the lies they told? 
The radio wire holds my desire but I am the  same...
I am the King of the Summer Hotel

I reach for what’s left of the moon, shinin’ cold & hard on a buzzing power yard.
Mary where’d it all go? Since we met out in those open fields?
Now the ghosts of our youth come alive as the malls empty out.
Did you grow tired? Did you grow old?  Did you believe the lies they told?  The radio wire holds my desire, but I am the  same...I am the King of the Summer Hotel

Watch the wild child dance in the foxfire
while the wind brings the sound of the trucks running south on 13.
Mary you were so young when we met out in those open fields.
You had to be the craziest mama I swear I’ve ever known...
Did you grow tired? Did you grow old?  Did you believe the lies they told?  The radio wire holds my desire, but I am the  same...I am the King of the Summer Hotel

Dixie Drive
The hall light’s out; baby’s sleepin’, Janey stabs out her last cigarette.
TV’s on; talk show’s wastin’ whatever was left of the youth she had
We’d ride that road til dawn depending on the purity of our lines
Janey don’t rely on those shopworn alibis;
there’s a bitter wind outside for every dream that dares to die
You and I decide the direction of this drive;
There’s nowhere to left to hide, faith comes only when we try.

Oh Dixie Drive. Come alive, wash away this thin disguise
Dixie Drive, we survived; help me shine on in her eyes...Dixie Drive.

You can hear em talk, they say “Janey’s touched.” You know their hearts are as dry as dust.
You’ve lived on looks but baby we both know--the birds still sing sweetly beneath your eyes.
Janey don’t rely on those shopworn alibis;
there’s a bitter wind outside for every dream that dares to die
You and I decide the direction of this drive;
There’s nowhere to left to hide, faith comes only when we try.

Oh Dixie Drive. Come alive, wash away this thin disguise
Dixie Drive, we survived; help me shine on in her eyes...Dixie Drive.

Baby run to your window and feel the wind blow back your hair
These days are alive with the things we survive
Don’t tell me about the ghosts that taunt me; I’m starin down the things that haunt me tonight
But it might be the sound...yea it’s only the sound, the sound of my own wheels.

Janey don’t rely on those shopworn alibis;
there’s a bitter wind outside for every dream that dares to die
You and I decide the direction of this drive;
There’s nowhere to left to hide, faith comes only when we try.

Oh Dixie Drive. Come alive, wash away this thin disguise
Dixie Drive, we survived; help me shine on in her eyes...Dixie Drive.

In The Heart Of The Heart Of The Country
In the heart of the heart of the country, in the tall grass a young girl is runnin’
In the heart of the heart of the country, where we talk of belief and belonging
In the heart of the heart of the country.

South of the Big Four, half a mile down Radio Road
Honey I’ll meet you in light of the summer’s blue soul.

In the heart of the heart of the country, in the tall grass a young girl is runnin’
In the heart of the heart of the country, where we talk of belief and belonging
In the heart of the heart of the country.

After the storm’s passed, We’ll walk down to the Germantown Pike
The sound from St. Mark’s Fair, where children sing, “Too Ra too ra too too la.”

Down by the pylon, God leaves a light on for lovers to see each other through.

South of the Big Four, half a mile down Radio Road
Honey I’ll meet you in light of the summer’s blue soul

In the heart of the heart of the country, in the tall grass a young girl is runnin’
In the heart of the heart of the country, where we talk of belief and belonging
In the heart of the heart of the country.

The Auto Trade
When he sleeps my father dreams of cars, Thunderbirds & Mustangs he sold to football stars
There was music in the corner bars--Sinatra, Ella and sad old Johnny Ray;
We'd race soapbox at the Fairgrounds Saturdays.
They came out of that great good war, my father's friends and brothers
and their promise to this world.
When he'd walk me across that showroom floor, there was glass & steel & rubber;
the fenders shone like pearls, and he'd say "Son, that's the way they do it in Detroit."

Young men grow old in the auto trade.
Stories are told as we're handed down our names.
The winters are cold, but the summers remain the same... that's the way we do it in Detroit.

I pray my work is not in vain; I worry that my time here won’t live up to my name.
There's a faith found deep down in my brother's eyes,
It says we love the work far more than the prize.

Young men grow old in the auto trade. Stories are told as we're handed down our names.
The winters are cold, but the summers remain the same...  that's the way we do it in Detroit.