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"One Songwriter's Pet Lines"

Every songwriter has favorite lines that he's written, 
and they are not always in his best known songs. 

This is more than just a sneaky way to fill a column, 
because these lines of mine 
have actually been going through my head all day. 
Now I'm trying to get them to go through yours. 
*      *      * 
On the cold November sidewalk 
lookin' through the rusty fence, 
I stand and watch a nighthawk fly 
across the dusty Pennsylvania moon. 
*      *      * 
When you're down to the end of the wine 
Like a bird on a telephone line 
Conversations go by 
Then they fade and they die 
When you're down to the end of the wine. 
*      *      * 
The weeds are brown and dry along the Indiana blacktop. 
and the heat waves on the highway make it shine. 
*      *      * 
Brush away the cobwebs 
Where the weeds grow in the spring 
Here lies the man who knew the words 
But never learned to sing. 
*      *      * 
Who gives me milk? Who gives me cheese? 
Who gives me hoof and mouth disease? 
I like to have my friends around... 
I'll take cows when the chips are down. 
*      *      * 
There was something in the air. 
I could feel it as I stood there by the windows, 
Like a sighing of a lover, 
or the whisper of a long forgotten word. 
*      *      * 
Here Today...and Gone Tomorrow. 
A little joy...a little sorrow. 
Not ours to keep...but just to borrow, Lord. 
Here Today and Gone Tomorrow. 
*      *      * 
Kill Kill Kill 
Everybody do the Cockroach Stomp. 
*      *      * 
Dandelions that grow along the highway, 
Silver gray they blow away like foam. 
Trucks roll by and make the blackbirds fly away. 
Seems like there ain't no goin' home. 
*      *      * 
The Clock of St. James looking down through the rain 
At the city blackened with time. 
*      *      * 
Oh, remember me, my darling 
when spring is in the air, 
And the bald headed birds are whispering everywhere. 
When you see them walking southward in their dirty underwear, 
That's the Tennessee Bird Walk. 

Copyright  November 6, 2005, Jack Blanchard. All rights reserved. 
Reprinted by permission.


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