raymondale
and the Family Band
Lyrics
(sorted by album)
Consider the Birds
01. Majestic, For Lack of a Better Word -- A king is overthrown or thrown over a shoulder. A queen is violently forced in the back of a cop car. A queen upon her throne, a slave producing offspring; but now her commonwealth is disappeared and dying. This is how we treat her majesty; this is how we treat the king and queen. A crown upon his head and blood flows from his temple. In spite of cries of anguish this is his example. This is how we treat his majesty; this is how we treat the king and queen. Greenhouse gas and pesticide and human rights and peoples' lives, the food we eat, the cars we drive. This is our response: we decide. My kings and queens, what will your sentences be? Oh. My kings and queens what will your sentences be? I think we know.
02. Parkinson's -- At the end of Florida Park Drive, across from the yacht club is where I first met her sitting in the very last pew. Beneath a stained-glass window depicting a white dove, to her and her husband both I was introduced. On a street off Old Kings Road, across from the dentist she treated us to a pizza at Carusoe's that night. And her symptoms if they were there, they were not noticed, but she was surely already beginning her fight. On Plymouth Avenue, across from Orange City, her husband passed away in Florida hospital Deland. And she took it pretty hard and accepted our pity. And it was now pretty obvious, especially her posture and her hands. Her hands that used to rejoice tremble just like her voice, but it's not her. You can hardly recognize when you look in her eyes, 'cause it's not her. How your heart it breaks as her hands start to shake, but it's not her. It's not her. It's her disease.
03. The Lake -- I look, I look, I look at the lake. I see, I see, I see your face. I lose my concentration, disrupt my meditation, and all I see is you. I want to tell you that I love you. I love you. And I want to tell you that I'm proud of you--proud of you. I didn't understand the way that you needed me to. And I'm sorry for that, and I forgive you. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. I swim, I swim, I swim in the lake. I see, I see, I see mistakes. No, it's not your fault, man. You were just a kid then, and I don't blame you.
04. Untitled #2 -- "Get out while you've still got your soul," she shook her head. "What have you got to show for it?" "I'm better off than dead." If I address this to God would that make it a prayer? If I addressed it to you instead would you even hear? On the cold conrete I lay my head. "Are you ready to leave" is what you said. If I address this to God would that make it a prayer? If I addressed it to you instead would you even hear? Would you even care?
05. For Her -- "Memorial Hospital" said her caller ID, and she answered with a quiet "hello." She listened closely to the voice on the line and with a gasp her voice let out an "oh no." She took a cab to where she boarded the plane that would fly her across those six states. She prayed to God that the boy would hold on; she prayed to God he would wait for her. The doctor dressed him in a robe of pale blue and left him in a room all alone. He'd heard enough of what the doctors assumed, so he feebly reached for the phone. He dialed her number with her area code, but he already knew it was too late. He lay alone there in his hospital bed, but he could no longer wait for her. Her rental car was crooked in the visitor's lot as she ran to the door through the rain. Began to tremble at the receptionist's desk, her anxiety she could not contain. They finally told her she could visit the boy, and in the waiting room she pondered her fate. Soon the nurse would read the girl to his room, but for now all she could do was to wait. "I'm sorry," said the nurse, "but his heart refused to beat without you." Her words were well rehearsed, she said "his lungs refused to breathe without you." And the nurse said as the girl cried: "that boy couldn't stand to be without you." And the girl felt something inside, and she wondered if she'd die without him too.
06. God Bless You, Archbishop -- Tears fall. Gates cry. Even the barbed wire fence knows that something's not right. Shared homes. Warm nights. But one was in transit, he was safe on his flight. Guns fire. Bullets fly. Six graves would have to be dug so that their bodies could lie. ¡Presente! Amando Lopez, ¡Presente! Carlos Ortiz, ¡Presente! Oscar Romero, may you rest in peace. God hears our cries as we stand up for our people against our government's lies. Human rights. We'll strive. Blood was spilled on the altar, he was shot on the site. Funeral mass, sad and quiet. Until the bombs start to blow and the men on the roof open fire. May you rest in peace.
07. The Zoo -- So one day they went out, the sky was bright and there were people around. And on that day things were grand. The young boy smiled and held his mother's soft hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees; the boy he smiled and swore he'd never want to leave on that day. Another day they went out, the sky was blue and there were still people around. And on that day that they had planned, he ran ahead and he refused his mother's hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees; he weakly smiled and asked if it was time to leave on that day. A final day, she went out. The sky was gray and there were no people around. And on that day she was so sad. Her boy was grown. So she just folded her hands and watched the ducks and chimpanzees. She couldn't smile because she knew he had to leave. And on that day she was alone. Her boy was no longer with her he had left her and grown. And on that day those years ago, she remembered his smile and how she could see his face glow. And she remembered those days in those years past and she knew deep inside that her memories they would last all her days.
08. Rosa de Chiapas -- Her name was Rosa and she'd lived all her life in the South. Put her belongings in a backpack and put on a clean blouse. her husband Hector could not work anymore, his body was broken his spirit was sore. Rosa knew that she'd have to find a way to support her children and husband. She'd have to go North. Rosa made her way to the tracks and jumped a train headed North. She sat on top with the others and let the train run its course. She met a boy not as fortunate as she, he'd lost a leg and an arm underneath. He how lived in a village where people were keen to throw food to those traveling to the Land of the Free. Paid for her cab in Nogales and it drove off toward the East. She spent the last of her pesos on a symbolic last feast. She packed up her leftover tortillas and corn. She'd traveled only two days but she was already worn. She'd be crossing the border early in the morn', crossing into the land where her new life would be born. Two more days in the desert she didn't know East from West. A sense of lack and disparity filled her stomach and chest. Her gallon jug was dry as a stone. She'd been travelling for four days and nights on her own. In desperation her belongings she'd thrown. When they finally found her body she'd died all alone. His name was Hector and he'd lived all his life in the South.
09. A Time to Gather -- Picking tomatoes in your garden straight from the vine. It's been a good season; they're already ripe. And you feed your family with the sweat of your brow, and the birds sustain themselves with the food on the ground. The words of my mouth are unclean, but my intentions are pure as I fasten 'round my ankle these parachute cords. But you're leaving in the morning; packing your bags. And you're taking her with you and leaving us behind. A time to reap. A time to sow. A time to gather. A time for me to get to know you a little better. Consider the birds of the air; consider the way that they fly. Even birds have nests, but where will you sleep tonight? You see them cutting through the morningn, splitting the sky, and they're not the least bit worried. So why are you dying inside?
10. Something About Scavengers -- (instrumental)
Music and lyrics © raymondale and the Family Band, 2009
raymondale (EP)
01. Parkinson's -- At the end of Florida Park Drive, across from the yacht club is where I first met her sitting in the very last pew. Beneath a stained-glass window depicting a white dove, to her and her husband both I was introduced. On a street off Old Kings Road, across from the dentist she treated us to a pizza at Carusoe's that night. And her symptoms if they were there, they were not noticed, but she was surely already beginning her fight. On Plymouth Avenue, across from Orange City, her husband passed away in Florida hospital Deland. And she took it pretty hard and accepted our pity. And it was now pretty obvious, especially her posture and her hands. Her hands that used to rejoice tremble just like her voice, but it's not her. You can hardly recognize when you look in her eyes, 'cause it's not her. How your heart it breaks as her hands start to shake, but it's not her. It's not her. It's her disease.
02. The Zoo -- So one day they went out, the sky was bright, and there were people around. And on that day things were grand, the young boy smiled and held his mother's soft hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees. The boy he smiled and swore he'd never want to leave on that day. Another day they went out, the sky was blue, there were still people around. And on that day that they had planned, he ran ahead and he refused his mother's hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees, he weakly smiled and asked if it was time to leave on that day. A final day she went out, the sky was grey, there were no people around. And on that day she was so sad. Her boy was grown so she just folded her hands and watched the ducks and chimpanzees. She couldn't smile because she knew he had to leave. On that day she was alone, her boy was no longer with her he had left her and grown. And on that day those years ago, she remembered his smile and how she could see his face glow. And she remembered her days in those years past and she knew deep inside that her memories they would last all her days.
03. Untitled #1-- We spent the winter looking over a wine glass. And you'd placed your bets and the lots had been cast. It'd been predetermined the winter could not last. And in a matter of minutes a number of days passed. Yes I remember and it meant something to me. And I'm telling the truth and you don't have to agree. Maybe you'll never understand me completely. I just hope you'll forgive me eventually. It seems so easy for you to forget, to block out the way things actually were. And you think it's different but it's really the same. You're thinking of him and I'm thinking of her. You spent the spring looking over a beer can. Thinking of memories remembering where they began. Things didn't go in accordance with your plan. So maybe you weren't fit for making demands. So let's be realistic; we just weren't getting anywhere. And keeping in mind that we're being realistic, I can recognize that it's hard to hear.
04. Rosa de Chiapas -- Her name was Rosa and she'd lived all her life in the South. Put her belongings in a backpack and put on a clean blouse. her husband Hector could not work anymore, his body was broken his spirit was sore. Rosa knew that she'd have to find a way to support her children and husband. She'd have to go North. Rosa made her way to the tracks and jumped a train headed North. She sat on top with the others and let the train run its course. She met a boy not as fortunate as she, he'd lost a leg and an arm underneath. He how lived in a village where people were keen to throw food to those traveling to the Land of the Free. Paid for her cab in Nogales and it drove off toward the East. She spent the last of her pesos on a symbolic last feast. She packed up her leftover tortillas and corn. She'd traveled only two days but she was already worn. She'd be crossing the border early in the morn', crossing into the land where her new life would be born. Two more days in the desert she didn't know East from West. A sense of lack and disparity filled her stomach and chest. Her gallon jug was dry as a stone. She'd been travelling for four days and nights on her own. In desperation her belongings she'd thrown. When they finally found her body she'd died all alone. His name was Hector and he'd lived all his life in the South.
05. The Zoo (reprise) -- On that day she was alone, her boy was no longer with her he had left her and grown. And on that day those years ago, she remembered his smile and how she could see his face glow. And she remembered her days in those years past and she knew deep inside that her memories they would last all her days.
Music and lyrics © raymondale, 2008.
01. Majestic, For Lack of a Better Word -- A king is overthrown or thrown over a shoulder. A queen is violently forced in the back of a cop car. A queen upon her throne, a slave producing offspring; but now her commonwealth is disappeared and dying. This is how we treat her majesty; this is how we treat the king and queen. A crown upon his head and blood flows from his temple. In spite of cries of anguish this is his example. This is how we treat his majesty; this is how we treat the king and queen. Greenhouse gas and pesticide and human rights and peoples' lives, the food we eat, the cars we drive. This is our response: we decide. My kings and queens, what will your sentences be? Oh. My kings and queens what will your sentences be? I think we know.
02. Parkinson's -- At the end of Florida Park Drive, across from the yacht club is where I first met her sitting in the very last pew. Beneath a stained-glass window depicting a white dove, to her and her husband both I was introduced. On a street off Old Kings Road, across from the dentist she treated us to a pizza at Carusoe's that night. And her symptoms if they were there, they were not noticed, but she was surely already beginning her fight. On Plymouth Avenue, across from Orange City, her husband passed away in Florida hospital Deland. And she took it pretty hard and accepted our pity. And it was now pretty obvious, especially her posture and her hands. Her hands that used to rejoice tremble just like her voice, but it's not her. You can hardly recognize when you look in her eyes, 'cause it's not her. How your heart it breaks as her hands start to shake, but it's not her. It's not her. It's her disease.
03. The Lake -- I look, I look, I look at the lake. I see, I see, I see your face. I lose my concentration, disrupt my meditation, and all I see is you. I want to tell you that I love you. I love you. And I want to tell you that I'm proud of you--proud of you. I didn't understand the way that you needed me to. And I'm sorry for that, and I forgive you. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. I swim, I swim, I swim in the lake. I see, I see, I see mistakes. No, it's not your fault, man. You were just a kid then, and I don't blame you.
04. Untitled #2 -- "Get out while you've still got your soul," she shook her head. "What have you got to show for it?" "I'm better off than dead." If I address this to God would that make it a prayer? If I addressed it to you instead would you even hear? On the cold conrete I lay my head. "Are you ready to leave" is what you said. If I address this to God would that make it a prayer? If I addressed it to you instead would you even hear? Would you even care?
05. For Her -- "Memorial Hospital" said her caller ID, and she answered with a quiet "hello." She listened closely to the voice on the line and with a gasp her voice let out an "oh no." She took a cab to where she boarded the plane that would fly her across those six states. She prayed to God that the boy would hold on; she prayed to God he would wait for her. The doctor dressed him in a robe of pale blue and left him in a room all alone. He'd heard enough of what the doctors assumed, so he feebly reached for the phone. He dialed her number with her area code, but he already knew it was too late. He lay alone there in his hospital bed, but he could no longer wait for her. Her rental car was crooked in the visitor's lot as she ran to the door through the rain. Began to tremble at the receptionist's desk, her anxiety she could not contain. They finally told her she could visit the boy, and in the waiting room she pondered her fate. Soon the nurse would read the girl to his room, but for now all she could do was to wait. "I'm sorry," said the nurse, "but his heart refused to beat without you." Her words were well rehearsed, she said "his lungs refused to breathe without you." And the nurse said as the girl cried: "that boy couldn't stand to be without you." And the girl felt something inside, and she wondered if she'd die without him too.
06. God Bless You, Archbishop -- Tears fall. Gates cry. Even the barbed wire fence knows that something's not right. Shared homes. Warm nights. But one was in transit, he was safe on his flight. Guns fire. Bullets fly. Six graves would have to be dug so that their bodies could lie. ¡Presente! Amando Lopez, ¡Presente! Carlos Ortiz, ¡Presente! Oscar Romero, may you rest in peace. God hears our cries as we stand up for our people against our government's lies. Human rights. We'll strive. Blood was spilled on the altar, he was shot on the site. Funeral mass, sad and quiet. Until the bombs start to blow and the men on the roof open fire. May you rest in peace.
07. The Zoo -- So one day they went out, the sky was bright and there were people around. And on that day things were grand. The young boy smiled and held his mother's soft hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees; the boy he smiled and swore he'd never want to leave on that day. Another day they went out, the sky was blue and there were still people around. And on that day that they had planned, he ran ahead and he refused his mother's hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees; he weakly smiled and asked if it was time to leave on that day. A final day, she went out. The sky was gray and there were no people around. And on that day she was so sad. Her boy was grown. So she just folded her hands and watched the ducks and chimpanzees. She couldn't smile because she knew he had to leave. And on that day she was alone. Her boy was no longer with her he had left her and grown. And on that day those years ago, she remembered his smile and how she could see his face glow. And she remembered those days in those years past and she knew deep inside that her memories they would last all her days.
08. Rosa de Chiapas -- Her name was Rosa and she'd lived all her life in the South. Put her belongings in a backpack and put on a clean blouse. her husband Hector could not work anymore, his body was broken his spirit was sore. Rosa knew that she'd have to find a way to support her children and husband. She'd have to go North. Rosa made her way to the tracks and jumped a train headed North. She sat on top with the others and let the train run its course. She met a boy not as fortunate as she, he'd lost a leg and an arm underneath. He how lived in a village where people were keen to throw food to those traveling to the Land of the Free. Paid for her cab in Nogales and it drove off toward the East. She spent the last of her pesos on a symbolic last feast. She packed up her leftover tortillas and corn. She'd traveled only two days but she was already worn. She'd be crossing the border early in the morn', crossing into the land where her new life would be born. Two more days in the desert she didn't know East from West. A sense of lack and disparity filled her stomach and chest. Her gallon jug was dry as a stone. She'd been travelling for four days and nights on her own. In desperation her belongings she'd thrown. When they finally found her body she'd died all alone. His name was Hector and he'd lived all his life in the South.
09. A Time to Gather -- Picking tomatoes in your garden straight from the vine. It's been a good season; they're already ripe. And you feed your family with the sweat of your brow, and the birds sustain themselves with the food on the ground. The words of my mouth are unclean, but my intentions are pure as I fasten 'round my ankle these parachute cords. But you're leaving in the morning; packing your bags. And you're taking her with you and leaving us behind. A time to reap. A time to sow. A time to gather. A time for me to get to know you a little better. Consider the birds of the air; consider the way that they fly. Even birds have nests, but where will you sleep tonight? You see them cutting through the morningn, splitting the sky, and they're not the least bit worried. So why are you dying inside?
10. Something About Scavengers -- (instrumental)
Music and lyrics © raymondale and the Family Band, 2009
raymondale (EP)
01. Parkinson's -- At the end of Florida Park Drive, across from the yacht club is where I first met her sitting in the very last pew. Beneath a stained-glass window depicting a white dove, to her and her husband both I was introduced. On a street off Old Kings Road, across from the dentist she treated us to a pizza at Carusoe's that night. And her symptoms if they were there, they were not noticed, but she was surely already beginning her fight. On Plymouth Avenue, across from Orange City, her husband passed away in Florida hospital Deland. And she took it pretty hard and accepted our pity. And it was now pretty obvious, especially her posture and her hands. Her hands that used to rejoice tremble just like her voice, but it's not her. You can hardly recognize when you look in her eyes, 'cause it's not her. How your heart it breaks as her hands start to shake, but it's not her. It's not her. It's her disease.
02. The Zoo -- So one day they went out, the sky was bright, and there were people around. And on that day things were grand, the young boy smiled and held his mother's soft hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees. The boy he smiled and swore he'd never want to leave on that day. Another day they went out, the sky was blue, there were still people around. And on that day that they had planned, he ran ahead and he refused his mother's hand. They saw the ducks and chimpanzees, he weakly smiled and asked if it was time to leave on that day. A final day she went out, the sky was grey, there were no people around. And on that day she was so sad. Her boy was grown so she just folded her hands and watched the ducks and chimpanzees. She couldn't smile because she knew he had to leave. On that day she was alone, her boy was no longer with her he had left her and grown. And on that day those years ago, she remembered his smile and how she could see his face glow. And she remembered her days in those years past and she knew deep inside that her memories they would last all her days.
03. Untitled #1-- We spent the winter looking over a wine glass. And you'd placed your bets and the lots had been cast. It'd been predetermined the winter could not last. And in a matter of minutes a number of days passed. Yes I remember and it meant something to me. And I'm telling the truth and you don't have to agree. Maybe you'll never understand me completely. I just hope you'll forgive me eventually. It seems so easy for you to forget, to block out the way things actually were. And you think it's different but it's really the same. You're thinking of him and I'm thinking of her. You spent the spring looking over a beer can. Thinking of memories remembering where they began. Things didn't go in accordance with your plan. So maybe you weren't fit for making demands. So let's be realistic; we just weren't getting anywhere. And keeping in mind that we're being realistic, I can recognize that it's hard to hear.
04. Rosa de Chiapas -- Her name was Rosa and she'd lived all her life in the South. Put her belongings in a backpack and put on a clean blouse. her husband Hector could not work anymore, his body was broken his spirit was sore. Rosa knew that she'd have to find a way to support her children and husband. She'd have to go North. Rosa made her way to the tracks and jumped a train headed North. She sat on top with the others and let the train run its course. She met a boy not as fortunate as she, he'd lost a leg and an arm underneath. He how lived in a village where people were keen to throw food to those traveling to the Land of the Free. Paid for her cab in Nogales and it drove off toward the East. She spent the last of her pesos on a symbolic last feast. She packed up her leftover tortillas and corn. She'd traveled only two days but she was already worn. She'd be crossing the border early in the morn', crossing into the land where her new life would be born. Two more days in the desert she didn't know East from West. A sense of lack and disparity filled her stomach and chest. Her gallon jug was dry as a stone. She'd been travelling for four days and nights on her own. In desperation her belongings she'd thrown. When they finally found her body she'd died all alone. His name was Hector and he'd lived all his life in the South.
05. The Zoo (reprise) -- On that day she was alone, her boy was no longer with her he had left her and grown. And on that day those years ago, she remembered his smile and how she could see his face glow. And she remembered her days in those years past and she knew deep inside that her memories they would last all her days.
Music and lyrics © raymondale, 2008.