Epitaph For A Lost Tribe.

14 MP3 Songs in this album (68:25) !
Related styles: Folk: Folk-Rock, Blues: Folk-Blues, Mood: Intellectual

People who are interested in The Sound Of Music should consider this download.


Details:
The Lost Tribe

The Circus Train

As daylight fades to darkness the days of summer wane
I find myself listening to the clowns on a circus train
to their talk of grease paint frowns and smiles
spot lights towns and shows
of how theyâve watched the rains of summer
change into winter snows.

They talk of where theyâre going
of things they should have done
of what they wanted and what they did
and what they might have become
of how they spent their youth searching for
the end of the rainbow
of how they've watched the rains of summer
change into winter snows.

They talk of loneliness and pain
of vacations yet to be
they talk of loved ones lost and the tragic cost
of missed opportunities
of days of youth and sunshine
they new so many years ago
of how they've watched the rains of summer
change into winter snows.

Wanderers

Such a pleasant sight at the end of day
shining through the darkening blue as twilight fades away
the imitators of stellar perfection
giving no light only reflections
the first to be seen and the last to disappear
traveling around the sun year after year.

Wanderers
who are all these wanderers
Wandering on a wanderer
wanderers on a wanderer

Here on the ground we make our way around
searching for the answers to the questions that we found
trying to make sense out of what we see
with quantum physics and cosmology
and somewhere in-between
the very large and the very small
we took a step out of paradise
just to learn what it means to fall.

As we make our way around
on this journey to nowhere
we pay to make our dreams come true
with our blood sweat and tears
amid the talk of evolution,
the plan of god, and revolution
we take time out to through a party
at the end of the year
raise a toast to Old Lang Syne and say
âhey man werenât we just here!â


The Valley Of The Shadows

Amid the thunder of applause as the curtain falls
on those who delivered the lines
now that the play's done and we have had a good run
weâll take a bow for the sake of old times
still the warrior in me seeks one more good fight
the scholar one more thing to know
the lover seeks one more person to love
before I walk through the valley of the shadows.

Long ago dreams settle like dust
on the furnishings of a seldom used room
and haunting me still all the time that I killed
and the babes that I ripped from the womb
Still the poet in me seeks one more thing to say
the performer one more really big show
the artist seeks one more image to create
before I walk through the valley of the shadows.

As the forces of night drown out the day
the stars come tumbling down
and piles of flesh rot with the trash
as bullets whiz through the town
still the parent in me seeks one more child to raise
the farmer one more field to sow
the athlete seeks one more game winning hit
before I walk through the valley of the shadows.

In tenements and slums children feast on crumbs
while in the churches the preachers say pray
and the middle class whines that the solution to crime
is to lock all the criminals away
still the immigrant in me seeks streets lined with gold
the explorer Eldorado
one final quest for the fountain of youth
before I walk through the valley of the shadows.


Eyes And Lies

As rain drops tap upon my windshield
I contemplate a changing world
while tapping my hand in rush hour traffic
to the gentle swing of a string of pearls
and for a while I reminisce about another place in time
when summer suns burned warm and bright
and you and I were in our prime.

A man on the sidewalk looks through my window
exchanges a glance then walks away
into a crowd of people in a hurry
to be someplace else on a rainy day
and as I scan the airwaves
for something I want to listen to
lights change from red to green
then back to red before I can move.

Perhaps someday we will find the answer
perhaps some day we will find our way
perhaps some day we will do the right thing
perhaps someday but not today.
For today we must live out our lives
beneath the gray weeping sky
while scoffing at all the silly lies
and doing our best to survive
being
brutalized, regionalized, nationalized, globalized,
industrialized, psychoanalyzed, institutionalized
socialized.

For today we must live out our lives beneath the gray
weeping sky while trying to avoid making
contact with our eyes and doing our best
yeah, yeah, yeah to survive
being
polarized, politicized, mesmerized, recognized,
computerized, mechanized, victimized, terrorized,
scrutinized, deodorized, dehumanized, . . .

Government

Beneath this pretense of liberty tucked safely out of view
there are hungry children crying out and drifters on the move
lives spent in shelters and migrant shanty towns
but alas, Iâm just one man rambling around.

I would love to tell the politicians
to give those in need more than a dream
love to stand against injustice wherever it be happening
wherever peace is threatened Iâd love to find the common ground
but alas, I âm just one man rambling around.

I would love to tell the preachers to practice what they preach
I would love to help the striving to grasp beyond their reach
to be a helping hand, wherever one needs to be found
but alas, Iâm just one man rambling around.

I would love to cure the sick and end all tyranny
I would love to eradicate ignorance and feed all the hungry
shelter all the homeless and close all these prisons down
but alas, Iâm just one man rambling around.

Talk, Talk, Talk, . . .

There is talk of faith, talk of love, talk of living for god above
talk of pleasure, and talk of pain, talk of truth, and talk of fame
talk of friendship, and things to do, talk about freedom
and paying up your old dues
put it all together what's the sum
much gets said but little gets done.

There is talk of justice, and honesty, talk of fixing the economy
talk of peace, and starting anew, talk about walking in another shoes
there's is talk of goodness, and talk of success, talk of forgiving
those who transgress, put it all together what's the sum
much gets said and little gets done.

There is talk of change, and of things to come
talk of conservation, and revolution
talk about winning, what's never been won
talk of doing what never has been done
there's the old pep talk, rah, rah, rah,
the old party line, its blah, blah, blah
put it all together what's the sum
much gets said but little gets done.

A Better Day Than

Perhaps this is not the right time to set this record straight
perhaps itâs a little bit too early or just a little bit too late
perhaps Iâm just a fool for believing that the best is yet to come
that humanity will take responsibility
for all the horrible things it's done.

Is it if I could, I surely would, or if I would I surely could
make today, a better day, than yesterday.

To be ignorant of ignorance that's how I define bliss
to live in a world without injustice that's how I define my happiness
when will we step over the starting line and begin the human race
when will we run ourselves ragged each day
trying to make this world a better place.
Is it, . . .

And though itâs dark I still can see
the stars shinning above
and though I know what it means to be hurt
I still believe in love.

So now wake up child of darkness
there is more to this than meets the eye
you can call it doomsday, judgment day, the end of days
or just a dark cloud in the sky.
This world is ours to make or break to create or throw away
whether we create a heaven or a hell
depends on what we do each day.
So think about it, talk about it, dream about it,
how about it today.
Is it if . . .

What Are We Fighting For?

In the night I heard you crying out in pain
in the day I heard you laughing
and wondered what made you change
and how it is that all these years I failed to see
that thereâs a shadow hanging over history.

What Are We Fighting For?
All these years of fighting what have we ever gained from war?
What are we fighting for?

When I was a child I played games of war and it made sense
to kill the other for my brother to attain peace through violence
now it seems that things are not quite so black and white
in the gray it's hard to tell what's wrong from what's right.

What are we fighting for? . . .

Trapped within a social prison I wonder, âwhat should I do?â
Should I fight or should I surrender or should I play the fool for you
though you tried to tell me I refused to hear
the meaning of the words you whispered when you were over there.

What Are We fighting For?

Happy Daze

When I think back in time aways
to my childhood and those oh so happy days
when the baby boom met the TV set
your mother stayed home because your father knew best.

How Iâd love to go back
jolly gee jumpers wont you take me back jack
come on baby take me back again to those happy days.

When scientists in white coats and crew cuts
invented ways to blow the world up
when we filled our rivers with toxic dyes
put lead in our gas and smog in our skies.

How Iâd love to go back. . .

When we pledged allegiance
and said our prayers in school everyday
had Superman to fight for the American way
J. Edgar Hoover led the FBI
on secret missions in drag disguise.

How I'd love to go back. . .

Communist were everywhere we had to be on guard
people were busy building fallout shelters in their back yards
the radio played them old rocking tunes
the young girls screamed as Elvis crooned
and Ronald Reagan was just another hollywood buffoon.

When I think back in time aways. . . .


Maybe Someday

Maybe someday weâll find the way
Maybe someday weâll find the way
Maybe someday weâll find the way
Maybe someday oh yea maybe

Maybe someday weâll find the right words to say
Maybe someday weâll figure out what to say
Maybe someday weâll find the right words to say
Maybe someday oh yea maybe


Maybe someday we wonât be betrayed
Maybe someday we wonât be betrayed
Maybe someday we wonât be betrayed
Maybe someday oh yea maybe

Maybe someday we wonât go astray
Maybe someday we wonât go astray
Maybe someday we wonât go astray
Maybe someday oh yea maybe

Sunny Days

I remember, do you remember,
those awesome sunny days
big time dreams on a summer diamond
the importance of the games we played
sometimes we won, sometimes we lost,
but we always played it hard and fair
with old glory waving in the breeze
and the smell of hot dogs in the air.

And through it all the music played
the young at heart swooned and swayed
winter white beneath skies of gray
fills me with desire for those sunny days.

Innocence is quick to blush, its blossom is quick to fade
the morning of experience, rains on its parade.
Guys on the one side trying to find the nerve
to ask the girls if they would like to dance.
Girls on the other, waiting to be discovered
hoping for someone to advance.

And through it all. . . .

We went to school and studied hard, tried to make good grades
developed skills and went to work, with dreams of being over payed.
We found our mates and raised our kids
held them close and had to let them go
and suddenly came to realization that life
is just a glance out the window.

And through it all. . .


A Time of Deception

Through a time of deception, gracefully I plucked
as business seduced politics, and avarice ran amuck
and soldiers proud in uniform, were sent away to fight
by those who had convinced themselves
that they knew wrong from right.

Technology strummed by vision, such a wonderful tune
the sound of rolling thunder, destination moon
but all too soon the moment passed, and we retuned from flight
to the troubled twentieth century, and all its familiar sights.

To freedom and opppression, to greed and charity
to passion and indifference, to the politics of gluttony
to stupidity and genius, to wealth and poverty
to body bags, and burning flags, and fiscal uncertainty

Existing where I canât be, deflecting forceless zones
desiring recognition, in the tomb of the unknowns
and contemplating truth, in a field of endless lies
while throbbing for an instant, between your love struck thighs.

Behind us smolder the remains of the bridges that weâve burned
before us stands the graveyard, the point of no return
within us dwell the corpses of all we might have been
had we not given up, had we not given in.

It was a time of deception, it was a time of deception.


Itâs A Cold Cold Wind

Past the mountain of love, through the heart land it blows
from the east to the west, through the valleys below
through the forest of hope, through the fields of golden wheat
down the country roads, and along these city streets.

Itâs a cold wind
itâs a cold wind
itâs a cold wind that's a blowing.

Through the eyes of indifference, over the oceans of content
past the seats of politics, and through the halls of government
down the alley of despair, above the pastures of decline
through the sinews of the heart, and the nexus of the mind.

Itâs a cold wind. . . .

Through the door ways of peace, through the factories of armament
above the bloodied battle fields, and the soldiers monuments
down the highways of commerce, between the graveyard stones
through the maternity ward, and the convalescent home.

Itâs a cold wind. . . .


Drive

Pack your bags salute the flag off we go to war
donât bother asking what were fighting for
just crank up that old war machine send the army and marines
but first soften them up with a little shock and awe.

So we can drive around town in our fancy SUVâs
big ass pick up trucks and over the top Hum Veeâs
countries must fall and soldiers must die
so we can drive drive, drive, drive, drive.

They want those Arctic reserves so theyâll change a law or two
when you have six hundred horse power who needs a caribou
if there is oil in the ground drill a hole and pump it out
'cause that's what it's all about
oh that's what it's all about.

You put your big bit in, you pull your big bit out
you twirl it all around till the oil comes squirting out
when you see a geyser gushing you stand up and you shout
that's what it's all about.

So we can drive around town in our fancy SUVâs . . .

The president made his desperate plea
claimed they had those WMDâs
and the senate and the congress agreed
then the president prayed to his bigger daddy
way up in the sky
bigger daddy replied it's time to send
someone else's kidsâ to die

So we can drive around town. . . .


Recorded In New York City, and Huntsville Alabama
at Cameron Bros. recording studios.

Producer: Don Cameron
Arranger: Don Cameron

Players:
Don Cameron: Vocals, Guitar, Bass Guitar, Mandolin, Keyboards, Drums, Percussion, Harmonica.

Special thanks to all the wonderful people who created the increadible software, hardware and instruments that were used in the making of this album. (Apple Logic, Waves, Wave Arts, Apple Computers, Lacie, Apogee Electronics, Focusrite, Universal Audio, Summit Audio, Blue, Neumann, Rode, AKG, Martin Guitars, Kramer Guitars, M-audio, Sampson, Hohner.)

All Songs
©2011 Don Cameron