She enters the hallway
Alone in her silver
Yellow shining dress
Her threshold conceals
Out here the dogs
Are ready for feeding
The game of the night
Is about to begin

Stall as you may
You’re destined to enter
Her corridor of wonders
Her tunnel of love
And there in the darkness
The water runs easy
Caveman drawings
Of horses and doves

[chorus]
'cause time she’s a fast running old woman
Chase her you’d be breathless 
Stop her you’ll die
But all of her wonders 
Are here for the taking
The minutes, the hour 
The breadth of her thigh

You’re tall as a pine tree
Soft as an straw 
Feathered as a moose
About to be sheared
Keen as the meadows
Orange in color 
Sad as a baby
Happy as a bee

Chalk mark they’d lead you
So follow them gently
Spare the illusion 
Your critical eyes
Lost in a mirror
Reflections are fading
Bodies to enter
Forthwith to unite

[chorus ...]

[bridge]
Life ain’t for ever
The young ones are saying
Life’s but a dream
The sleepless returns
And I’m but an old man
With thoughts high as mountains
And lowly desires
Keeping me thin

The Chesapeake river
Now flows to the ocean
Unnamed the fish
Who bed on its stream
Unknown my love
Her name but a token
Given at birth
She’s a-waiting on me

[chorus ...]

Time She's A Woman (+20% speedup)

Folk memories that transpired in this tidbit I came up with last night ,,, tune third string down to E

Old North Tune - Instrumental - Dror Kessler

Jam in Modal C, Instrumental

Quietly you go astray 
Sneaking through the alleyways
Nevermind the price
You’ve always paid

Surely you would find a way
To overcome the dealer's hand
Fold them pairs
No need here to pretend

Always right, never wrong
You’re the man, now sing us a song
Quietly just walk away
From her

She’s been gentle, she’s been kind
Notebook says that she’s a find
Quietly just walk away
From love

Walk Away

Sit down - put your feet back on the ground
Sit down - put your feet back on the ground
The train has passed
There's not a sound

Sit down - let your thoughts whittle down
Sit down - let your thoughts whittle down
The train has already passed by
Pretty soon you won't even remember why

Why you slid her wrist
Why you tried to kiss
Why you had a gun
Oh, doesn't everyone?

Sit down - plant your feet right back on the ground
Sit down - plant your feet back right on the ground
Pretty soon you won't hear a sound

Not the sound of the night falling
Not the way that you thought you were going
Not the way things turned out
Well .. isn't it what it's all about?

Sit down - plant your feet back on the ground
Sit down - plant your feet back on the ground
Pretty soon you won't hear a sound
Pretty soon there's nobody else around

No one to call your name
No one to tell you you've insane
No one to say: come-on, get that house
No one to say: why ... you messed around
No one to say: why .... you never took that job
No one to say that you could have been hot
Now you're talking man ... no doubt
No one to say that you flirt and flaunt

Sit Down (stream of consciousness)

Cammino dei Sette Ponti

A Rock Ballad recorded with Steve Booker at Cake Studios, London. 

Back Away

Just a little track I've put together...not completely finished but I wanted to show my progress and ideas. (Still needs mastering and Mid 8 finishing)
Please feel free to leave any feedback and please like and share.

Until the next one ;)
Coop

To the Next One

זֹאת הָאֲמָנוֹת שֶׁלִּי
זֹאת הַמִּינִיּוּת שֶׁלִּי
שָׁמָּה הַמַּהוּת שֶׁלִּי.
וּבַפְּרוֹנְט, הַשִּׁוּוּק

אִם תִּרְצֶה לִפְגֹּשׁ אוֹתִי
בְּחַר מֵהַתַּפְרִיט שֶׁלִּי
אֶת פֶּלַח הָעַכּוּז שֶׁלִּי
שֶׁאֵדַע בְּדִיּוּק

אִם בָּחַרְתָּ אָמָּנוּת שֶׁלִּי
אָז תַּקְשִׁיב לַעֲבוֹדוֹת שֶׁלִּי
אִם בָּחַרְתָּ מִינִיּוּת 
אָז מָלֵא כָּאן שֶׁאֶלּוֹן

מָה אַתְּ יוֹדֵעַ עַל
וּמָה אַתָּה רוֹצֶה בִּכְלָל
בָּאתָ לְאַזֵּן גַּלְגַּל
אוֹ סְתָם לְגַוֵּן

אִם בָּחַרְתָּ בַּמַּהוּת שֶׁלִּי
זֶה עוֹד לֹא מְמֻמָּשׁ אֶצְלִי
אִם בָּחַרְתָּ בְּשִׁוּוּק
אָז תּוֹצִיא אֶת הָאַרְנָק

כָּל מָה שֶׁתִּרְצֶה אֶפְשָׁר
אֲפִלּוּ לַהֲפֹךְ פִּיל לְהַר
רַק דָּבָר אֶחָד תִּבְחַר
לֹא מְעַרְבֵּב

זאת המיניות שלי

רוֹמָנוֹ, קוֹסְטָה

מֵרֶגַע שֶׁעָבַרְתָּ אֶת הַחֵצִי
הַכֹּל תִּרְאֶה הָפוּךְ
הוֹפָעָה שֶׁבָּאתָ לִשְׁמֹעַ
נִגְמְרָה כְּשֶׁנִּכְנַסְתְּ, בְּדִיּוּק

זֶבֶל בָּרְחוֹב
פּוֹטֶנְצְיָאל לְלִקּוּק
כָּל מָה שֶׁחָסֵר
אַתָּה לוֹ זָקוּק

אִם לֹא תִּקְנֶה בִּירָה
אֵיךְ יֵדְעוּ שֶׁאַתָּה כָּאן
אִם לֹא תִּקְנֶה פִּיצָה
עוֹד תֵּצֵא פֹּה סוּג שֶׁל, מֵהַפְכָּן

מְסִבַּת קַנְטֵרִי
רִקּוּדֵי שׁוּרוֹת
בַּבֹּקֶר פֹּה קוֹנִים
תַּחְתּוֹנִים, חֲזִיּוֹת

עַל הַשְּׁתֵּים וְהָאַרְבַּע
רָקַדְתָּ עַד זוֹב
עַכְשָׁו אֶחָד וְשָׁלוֹשׁ
בְּדִלְיִי, רָטֹב

אִם לֹא תִּקְנֶה בִּירָה ...

רומנו קוסטה

תקוה

Dror Kessler grew up in Israel, lived for while in the mid-west and is now making music out of Sderot, Israel. His writing and delivery style is personal - tackling subjects ranging from world and family situations, personal growth and generally the art of living. 

Cammino dei Sette Ponti

Dror Kessler דרור קסלר

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Anton J

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