Musical Shadows

By Alan Lewis Silva

Musical Shadows is an alpha-numeric collection of grammatical songs by Alan Lewis Silva, comprising his songwriting from years 2001 to 2016.
Have you wondered what life would look like through the eyes of youth?
What do we express in our needs, attentions, and desires?
What is the Fountain of Folly?
Who are the Millennials?
Read about these matters and more in the pages of this special collection of Alan Lewis Silva's musical shadows.
Alan Lewis Silva is an original California author and folk singer, who is an independent publisher of over 400 songs in the vein of blues, grunge, rock, and jazz. His songs are lyrically oriented, laden with imagery, and express the plights and imaginations of the soul either submerged or emerging from the process and after-affects of the Information Age.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781716136221

Book preview

MUSICAL SHADOWS

Alan Lewis Silva

All songs copyright © 2016 by Alan Lewis Silva.

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-716-13622-1

Imprint: Lulu.com 978-1-716-13622-1

Musical Shadows

A Discourse on Deconditionism

A Discourse on Deconditionism—

The outsider of literature,

As signaled by a change

In the mode of production:

Situation One

The difference between translations,

Between forms,

What is lost in the exchange:

Situation Two

A deconditioned perspective,

Unrecognizing previous ones

By actively radiating

Existence,

A world,

A cosmology,

The production of which

Is a change in the mode of reduction,

Thereby deconditioning society:

Situation Three (Nascimento Entonces)

The formation of unity,

Collective bond among us,

That I call the bond of this

Deconditioned reality:

Situation Four

Somehow findin’ a way

Of evading things,

Living on the margins,

Daring to try the limitations of freedom—

Situation Five:

Escaping tyranny

By implementing personal counter-measures,

Which is everything,

You know and can use

The skills you possess,

The talent, which is you,

In other words by becoming:

Situation Six

Recording the thing you have became,

Capturing as much as possible,

And to become it

By working with it:

Situation Seven (Nascimento Historia)

Shadows fall

Over the evening windows…

A voice calls from inside a room

You see a person by a bed

She is focused

On an unknown form in the bed

You come closer and feel

A small retinue of lights

Following you as you approach,

Not aware

That your bed-drifting is over your hands

A blanket covers you

And sense gentility,

And are looking

At the person facing you

It is a mannequin

You are a doll,

And you become petrified

Like an ancient wood

Or a statue made of stone

An Idyll Dream

An idyll dream,

An idyll dream...

In a Mystic Disease

(Part One)

A Dream Is a Dream

Woke up in the evening

‘Bout suppertime—

Didn’t know if it was day or night

It was still light outside

I was inside

About suppertime

In July

I woke up

I had a dream

You answered the phone,

Thankful enough for that—

Something like a theme park—

The people were in their rides

I really cared

I really cared…

I really cared for them

People,

My consciousness,

The passengers of the ride:

Go up the right

Go down the slide

Go up the hill

Go down the side

You know some dreams are not so silly

They mean somethin’ sometimes

I had a dream that I was alive

I had a dream

If you can dream it,

You can be it

You can do it if you dream—

You can do it if you dream…

A Guy Like Me

It’s in my blood,

The way it feels,

When you go out

And spin car wheels

A fool I been

It’s gotta be

To be in love with a girl like you,

To be a guy like me

There’s tears and rain

Comin’ down today

You won’t be good,

So you’re goin’ away

It doesn’t bother you,

But it hurts me

To be in love with a girl like you,

To be a guy like me

The day is dim

Summer’s down

The feet of sorrow

Stamp the ground,

And misery

Is always free

To be in love with a girl like you,

To be a guy like me

A Musical Letter

My name is Nobody

I think that we’ve met before

Your name is Cristin

I’ve been to Colombia

I met someone on the Internet

I thought we might get married,

But I didn’t have my birth certificate

Nothing ever turns out right

Too often

I hope to change that

I pray for solution

People are selfish

And an illusion

Cristin, O Cristin,

You are someone special

Don’t know you very well,

Or maybe I know enough to say

I hope you’re doing wonderful

And that you’re happy today

As for me,

I’m here waitin’

For someone

Tryin’ to be active,

Tryin’ to make a difference in this world

‘Cause I’m not alone here

Despite the obvious…

God bless you

A Port in Ghent

There’s no bone in her arm

She was a friendly socialista

With concerns of breasts and pussy plates

For the men of the great clam bake

He gave them instructions

On what to do with their weapons

The Captain drew his men

To a Port in Ghent

Fräulein, Herr Gobels’ shoulder

Is pinned beneath swinging hammers,

Flowers spinning,

Blades recoiling

He gave them instructions

On what to do with their weapons

The Captain took his men

To a Port in Ghent

I stayed in parks and train stations

Askin’, Who really gives up?

Captain traded a pigeon,

For a woman

I was given

His master and his mistress make love

His hip is tied to hers with wire,

And once she receives the Word,

She flies off like a messenger bird

The family eats with spoons

They’ve caught some food

The toad drips with mustard

They have fish eyes

In custard

While everyone’s distracted

By the flaming boy in pink,

They forget to show the man

That he did stink

He gave them instructions

On what to do with their weapons

The Captain took his men

To a Port in Ghent

To a poor in Ghent

About Indian Creek

Well, I staggered through Indian Creek

With an ache at my side

I set myself through the world,

Leavin’ you behind

And, I’m stranded on a switchback

There’s snow on the road,

And it’s freezin’ my senses

All that’s livin’ turns cold

All that’s living turns cold…

Oh Honey, don’t you know?

We never get old

Oh Honey, don’t you know

We never get old?

We stay this way forever,

Drawing me into your home,

Drawing me into your home…

But there’s something about a Roman poet

That reminds me

O’ how to deal with you emotionally—

Why deny good love?

Why deny good love?

Why deny good love?

Honey, I don’t let it go

I don’t let it go

On the middling

Because I never get old

Acho Que

I feel that

We’re not together made

I think that my big soul,

Poor beneath your feet,

Contaminates

The whole month

I feel that,

My longing

Tuesday was very pretty

Wednesday was the just the same

Sunday is very fun

Saturday is very bad

I feel that

Guardians are always

You are one for love

In life,

In the near-foreign sky,

In the stars

I write, I feel that

You for me

Airport Blues

I saw you in the graveyard

You were looking for me

With the flowers in your hand

In the graveyard—

Well, how many years has it been…

Since you left me

When you told me like a thief

That you wanted?

That you wanted to be released?

Well, I’m down here, and you’re out there—

With the pie in the sky, and you say that you care—

Well, I’m sleepin’ by the window,

And the phone is ringing

Well, I’m going back to bed, but

A voice is singin’

It seems like February,

But I know that it’s June,

And I’m living on an island,

Or I’m sailing to the Moon

Arrivin’ on the airport

The airport—

Well, don’t hurt your feelings, babe

I’m covered with blankets, and the light ends

Well, you and your dreams, you said

You and your dreams

Ooh, he said

Well, I bought some oranges,

And I sat outside

I heard the swallow,

And then I saw it fly

Well, it seems like the more I move,

A part of me will stay,

But I let it all pass over

To another day

In the airport

Well, don’t hurt your feelings, babe

I’m covered with blankets, and the light is

Well, you and your dreams you said

You and your dreams, you said

In the airport

In the airport—

Alanthebarbarian

Alanthebarbarian

Is king of nothin’

He’s a barbarian

He doesn’t have a home

He’s a lone man,

But he ain’t mad

He’s got ambition

He brings the culture

He brings some light

He brings adventure

To your ordinary lives

Alanthebarbarian

Alanthebarbarian

Alanthebarbarian…

He’s got a sword

It starts with Word

He’s got a word sword

He’s got some things to say

(I guess they rhyme their poetry),

But he doesn’t know

The future of existence,

Only the promise of hope

That wisdom will promote

Drink from the cup of light

Over-flowing

You gotta find a wife

(You gotta find a wife)

Too many people are lonely

Too many people are sad

Too many people are left only

Thinkin’ about what they don’t have

We can change that

You can be my friend

We can find a solution

This is not the end

Alanthebarbarian

Alanthebarbarian

Alanthebarbarian,

Is loomin’

Down the streets of Rome

Did Aeneus write poems?

"I don’t think so

He gave birth to King Silvius

"But that’s not enough

"For me to cling to

I need the Cup of Life

"So ask the One who holds it

"Where justice proceeds from the throne

And judgment and righteousness

"And mercy

Lasting for eternity

La, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la

La, la, laaaaaaa—

All It Becomes

When I was born,

I slept on the grey dawn

When I was five,

I stared through the trees

When I was you,

I gazed in wild wonder

When I was blue,

You needed me

And all it becomes

Is just another story

We tell to each other

At our grandfather’s end

And all it becomes

Is just another story

We tell each other

Before we go to bed

When I was nineteen,

I tasted the lovers

When I was twenty,

I sailed away

When I was lost,

I held life for ransom

When I was free,

They threw it away

When I was angry,

I shook up the coal market

When I was hungry,

I came to your house

And all it becomes

Is just another story

We tell to each other

At our grandfather’s end

And all it becomes

Is just another story

We tell each other

Before goin’ to bed

Lord, my sweetheart,

How can this go on?

You fed me and bled me

In the hope of doin’ better

For the lightnin’ that struck your lawn

Can I warm with you, baby?

I’ve gotta have some reason to go on

I need

The electricity,

But all it becomes

Is just another story

We tell at our grandfather’s end

All it becomes

Is just another story

Before goin’ to bed…

American Highway

She had dark hair

She was

Like a black goat

Some people would ship-talk image

Because to them it meant something

Just a teenage devil,

Teenage angel

He had

Some leather pants

He had

A hair slicked back

He looked almost like Elvis might

As a posing hipster

Together they traveled

Down the valley

Together back into

The residential community

Together they made love

In a house in a bed

She has his baby

She’s got his baby

He’s got her best friend

She’s got her baby

She’s got to be just a little bit crazy

He’s a real man

He’s a real man

He’s a real man-killer

He took the

Bus

To the trolley station,

And when he went home,

His bags were packed

He’s off, for the ship’s leaving

I love America,

He says to the bus driver

I love America

He’s got a baby

He’s got a woman

He’s got a baby

She makin’ him

Get a job

Amy

Her name is Amy

She’s my lady

She calls me Baby,

Amy

She was born in the sunlight

She was born in the stars

When she was a baby,

Yeah, she was

When she was in love

She was smiling,

When she was inside,

She was knowin’

Amy—

Amy

Amy

She runs around

She is lost and found

She has got a

Little present

In her pocket

Won’t you let me see it?

Amy

She said, It’s special

I know it’s special

She said its secret

I know its secret

I know it’s secret

Amy

Amy

Another Refugee

Come on down

We’re gonna have some fun,

Put a pig on a spit,

And stare at the sun,

And if I don’t see you soon, baby, I’ll be done

It never seemed to me that you’re the lonely one

Worked so hard that I think I’ll swoon,

Crawl through the dirt,

And then I’ll stare at the Moon

You know I did it for you,

But you did it for me—

Maybe just another idea to believe

Well, the ghost of your love still keeps me awake

With a puddle of tears and a dream I can’t shake

I wanted to come here

Why do I want to escape?

I look good for my age, but my heart’s out of shape

The grass is sweet

The lawn is kept

The yard is green all but for me except the spot

Where we killed ourselves last time

Why do we have to draw these lines?

Every time I see you I feel like a pushin’ a wall,

Tearin’ out the bottom just to find it all

Tired of lookin’ out, so I’ve got to look in,

Drink a bottle of blues

Then the room begins to spin…

Apple Tree

Don’t come around my apple tree,

My apple tree, my apple tree

Don’t come around my apple tree

No more, and not for me

Well, I’m gonna come ‘round your apple tree,

Your apple tree, your apple tree

I’m gonna go to your apple tree,

Oh yeah, baby

Well, don’t do it

No, no, no, no

Well, okay, maybe,

But not for thee—

Well, I found your orange tree,

Your orange tree

I’m gonna get your orange tree,

Oh yeah, baby

The air is thick

The juith will stick

To any kind of bandage

I make of it

I’m gonna go ‘round your orange tree,

Oh yeah, baby

Oh yippee!

I’ll cut down your apple tree,

Your apple tree, your apple tree

I’ll cut down your apple tree

Oh lord! Oh, no, baby!

The branch is hard

The trunk is thick

I burnt the furnace

That’s the last of it

Well, you don’t gotta be so nonchalant about it

Um hm…

Apples of Eyes

I have heard it spoken

That I’m not on the level

Of jazz musicians

And major league devils

  As if time doesn’t matter,

  They could only care less

About ten thousand spies

Apples of eyes

Alive in the crowd

I love to see

Their apples of eyes

Falling in love

With apples of eyes

What I have still belongs to me

I can make alterations

For customs I’ve shunned

I think I’ll save the date

Apples of eyes

I love to see

Alive in the crowd,

Apples of eyes,

Falling in love

With apples of eyes

  What can you do with them?

What can’t you do?

  Who has them?

Who doesn’t have them?

There was a stream by a bubblin’ brook

There were ducks in the reeds

And fishing lines on hooks

Until it was bulldozed

To produce snow globes,

And the spring

Returned

To an underground home

Apples of eyes

Alive in the crowd,

Apples of eyes

Falling in love,

I love to see

Their apples of eyes

Eyes

(Eyes)

Are You Ready

Are you ready to think?

Are you prepared to take a drink?

The henchmen sing aloud

On sand dunes

For an empty audience

Are you here or there?

Are you aware there?

Are you aware of acorns below?

Seeds festoon the beauty above

And an ocean made of Love

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Exploration never closes

Inside a room of crashing beaches

The ripples flow beyond

I go outside for you

On a riverboat I glide

The water’s light

Is to me a livin’ painting

I catch fish

Write down

I write

Down that stirs my mixture

Of one-third the Moon

And a quarter of the Earth

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready to think?

Are you prepared to take a drink?

The henchmen sing aloud

On sand dunes

For an empty audience

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Yeah

Oh yeah!

Huh, huh, huh, huh,

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh,

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh,

Huh, huh, huh, huh,huh, huh, huh,

Huh, huh, huh, huh,

Huh, huh,

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh,

Huh, huh, huh, huh

Arriving in Port

Arriving in port in the middle o’ the ocean,

Ponta Delgada, what a commotion—

Foreign papers are everywhere,

Conversation

Splitting through the air

Haul my luggage out to the suite

I’m at the bar talkin’, and who do I meet?

Filomena

By the stairs

Ah, yes, but what do I care?

I head back after talkin’ a while

With all the distressed people exiled

Early mornin’ there’s food at the fair—

Pineapples, cheese,

Beef, and beer

A bottle of wine under my bed

Soothes my mind and eases my head

Down by the beach on the yellow earth

A pretty young girl walks out from the church

A Festa starts not a week since I’m here

The bullfighters balk, and the horses are weird

Folk singers let it all ring out

The Blood of Cristo fills the town

Everyday the sun sets

As the night is filled with castanets

I take a boat out with a Moor

From Pico to Flores, Flores to São Jorge

Hillside cattle on the farms,

I fall asleep in a brunette’s arms

I’m on the island a month after that

I sell everything I own, and I buy a