GYPSY HEARTS
Gypsy Hearts, born to roam,
Gypsy Hearts, nowhere is home.
Gypsy Hearts, blood on the road,
Gypsy Hearts, stories have been told.
Gypsy Hearts, never lie still,
Gypsy Hearts, follow their will.
Gypsy Hearts, heightened mystique,
Gypsy Hearts, so proud and so deep.
Gypsy Hearts, candles ablaze,
Gypsy Hearts, we sing their praise.
DARE TO DREAM
Dare to dream, that's my Motto,
paving roads for others to follow.
Holding onto my hand, always leading the way,
out of darkness, towards light of day.
Giving strength to those too weary,
spreading the word to those who heed me.
Feeding all, with road worn knowledge,
embracing many, to be my colleagues.
We set the stage, we prep the show,
Lights, sound, cameras, action...
and on we roll.
Going day to day, striving for perfection,
not always knowing the right direction.
Acting on faith, and trial by fire,
true only to one thing: our heart's desire.
Neither friend nor foe, nor lover's satisfaction,
will ever change a director's action.
I dare to dream, to unleash my passion,
creating worlds for audience reaction.
Good or bad, be it yea or nay,
I will have completed, and thus, filled my plate.
THE ROAD
Dusty hat, dirty road
grab a bag, gotta go.
Singin' songs, light the lights,
off the bus, just another night.
Fame and fortune, whatever it takes,
doing whatever, to get the breaks.
No sleep, no rest, not sure where to go,
food up ahead - just follow your nose.
Day to day, night to night,
can't see a thing - bright spotlights.
Play the tunes, they love to hear,
God, I need another beer.
Clothes too tight, can barely breathe,
they seem to want it, but God, I stink!
Water in my face - no wait, just sweat,
haven't we left the damned town yet?
The Roadies rock, they really do,
they pray to Heaven for a good local crew.
Long days and nights, no end in sight,
maybe finally get more songs right.
Just in and out, up and down,
screaming loud, can't hear a sound.
We make them happy - I guess we do,
where the Hell is my other shoe?
The girl last night, I know she had a name,
Candy, Krissy, or another Jane...
She was fun, that's a given,
I should have said, "I'm not your Heaven"...
Too much too soon, so the story goes,
can't believe all the lies I've told.
Morning rises, the hair is a mess,
who gives a shit?, I must confess.
I'll go out there, they'll sing my praises,
no one will question the apparent daze.
Grab the songs, find out where I am,
say hello to the boys in the band.
The Roadies are cool, have been here for hours,
I really hope they could catch a shower.
No one knows who they are, some faces, some names,
but without their sweat, there ain't no game.
Their busses are loaded, they may party hard,
but every morning is a brand new start.
The trucks come in, amps and lights unloaded,
stages, speakers, truss, chain motors,
the crew really rocks.
Empty venues, small and large,
these guys walk in, and they take charge.
Day to day work, it's like a routine,
rock and roll - a well-oiled machine.
lights go bad, sound goes wrong,
shit, gotta fix it, so much for time off.
The crowd rolls in, "Wow, what a sight!"
"Look at how cool the show will be tonight!"
No thoughts cross their minds, what brought this creation.
They go home right after, and fire up the PlayStation.
The second lights are up, the crew scurry like ants,
striking gear and toys, from the boys in the band.
Lights are still hot, speakers still warm,
out come the cases, and in all it goes.
Time rushes by, most folks are asleep,
"did we get all the cable?"
"yeah, down to the last heap!"
Trucks are loaded - "wow, got a shower and shaved!"
"What's the name of this city?"
"Who knows? Morning's at 8..."
We all get on the bus, head outta town,
We know that we've been here -
I heard a really good crowd.
Copyright 2000, by Russell L. Hale II, all rights reserved.
