Copy of Len Bennati FM Folk

Track # 14 from my first LP called "Songs for Peace, Love and Understanding." In the end it is always about the song which is the main theme which runs throughout the verses. Being taken to a place in the song by the writer and storyteller and maybe finding something that you may also relate to or in the least sing along with.
Lyrics:

In the quiet of the night
I find solace in the song
The rhythm and the rhyme
Help me carry on

Through heartache and through pain
The music heals the soul
Every note and every chord
Helps us feel whole

It's always about the song
The way it moves us along
Echoes and melody
In our hearts, forever strong

Take me to that place
Where the music flows like a stream
Let me lose myself
In the beauty of the dream

So let the music play
And let the lyrics soar
For in the end, it's always about the song
That keeps us coming back for more

Music and Lyrics by Len Bennati FM Folk Copyright 2024
Mastered Track: Distrokid Mixea 2025

It's Always About the Song (Remix)

A new song......My story of my school years. I was generally happy in my life through grade three. But then came the 4th grade. Glasses provided some visual clarity , but what came with it ...the name calling ,bullying off and on through high school. Anxiety, introversion and shyness would be my shadows throughout. The chorus are thoughts which ruminated in my mind through high school graduation.My life did  not begin to turn around in a positive way until my first job then junior college. Music helped me along the way and has been a positive , driving force in my life until this day.

Lyrics:

My early story is a question to ponder 
Why am I here? What is this life?
Born in the year nineteen hundred and fifty-six
A small baby, held warmly in the kitchen light
I saw happy faces, they were mom and dad
A house full of laughter, a cradle of what I had
Toys on the floor, summers that felt like gold
A little world of comfort where the future hadn’t been told

At five I began school with new clothes and shoes
Learning to count, learning to sing the rules
Everyone smiling, other children’s hands to take
Recess like heaven, every friendship is at stake
Three years rolled on and more games to play
Little victories stack up day by day
There was a promise in pencils and in rhyme
I felt the world was steady in this careful time

Why am I here, with the sun on my skin?
What is this life, where do I begin?
Fifty-six questions humming softly in my mind
I’m looking for answers, just passing the time
Why am I here, when does this road unfold?
Born with a story, with hands to hold

Then grade four came in like a shorthand storm
Anxiety crept where the sunlight was warm
I couldn’t see the distance, the letters blurred and spun
My chest filled with questions I could not outrun
My teacher glanced over, eyes soft and kind
I sat in the back, quiet, with a restless mind
Not learning at the pace, the others seemed to keep
Just a kid with a secret, and the hurt buried deep


Then came the discovery, what a joy to see
Glass on my face and the world came free
Suddenly the print was a mountain I could climb
Colors had edges, and the clock kept time
But joy can be sudden and delicate as glass
“Hey four eyes”, the cruel words came to pass
Those years got lonelier, laughter thinned to gray
Anxiety and stress came quietly to stay
                                                                 
My first love was sweet and new
Playing games with a shy smile and trembling view
Learning became a ladder with some rungs too far
Teachers leaned in, tried to patch every scar
They noticed the lag, and called me aside
Offering extra patience, they walked me through the tide
Joined another class where the pace was kind
Holding on to something that I couldn’t find

I learned about courage in the classroom’s ordinary light
How to be small and still stand up in the night
Warm and loving family, their voices a thread
Holding up the questions that circled in my head
I practiced my letters like prayers to a door
Hoping each stroke would open something more
The world was both gentle and sharp with its knife
And every small survival felt like life

Now when I look back at that little room of toys
At the small boy learning how to love and make noise
I keep asking the questions, not always to solve
But to let the mysteries gently evolve
Why am I here?  Maybe to keep asking still
To meet the next sunrise on the top of a hill
Born in nineteen fifty-six, I carry the light
Fifty-six questions, and a will to write.

Music and Lyrics by Len Bennati FM Folk 2025
Mastered Track: Distrokid Mixea
Image: Download a pic Donate a buck! ^

Fifty-Six Questions

suddenly

A new song for immigrants in all countries......  "I was a stranger and you welcomed me," in the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats (Matthew 25:35)

Lyrics:

Welcome the stranger
From immigrant lands
Seeking freedom from oppression 
In this land of dreams and opportunities 
Do you remember that time?

Welcome the stranger
Who does not look like you
But on the inside, we’re all just the same
Breathing and existing searching for a cause
That they can believe in

Welcome the stranger
Looking for a new home
To call their own
Complete with family and friends 
And of course, some children too

Welcome the stranger
With a language they call their own
Beautiful in every word 
They speak of their dreams 
In this strange but free land which once was

Welcome the stranger 
For they are in need
Of your compassion and understanding 
As they try to navigate 
In this land now filled with hate and anger

Mastered Track: Distrokid Mixea
Music and Lyrics by Len Bennati FM Folk 2025
Image: Непарадное в парадных Александр Стрелков

Welcome the Stranger

Pour qui je compte     ( Translated following the French text )

Vidéo :   https://youtu.be/9njE-7si0d0
Texte :           Muette
Chant lead : Philippe J
Choeurs :      Liora 

Il y a des carnets
Et des mots égarés
Tout au fond des tiroirs
Et qu'on n'relit jamais
Parce qu'on est en retard
Et qu'y a toujours quelqu'un
Dont il faut prendre soin
Et ce quelqu'un, c'est jamais soi.

Dans la frileuse Flandre,
Sous les chênes et les hêtres,
Il y a ce tas de cendre
Après un feu de fête.
Au milieu, des canettes,
Des souv'nirs jetés là
Qu'on ramass' les yeux las
Pour les trier plus tard, peut-être.

Alors on compte sur ses doigts.
Un' seul' main suffit quand on s'dit :
Pour qui je compte vraiment ?

Les glacières dans le coffre,
La guitare dans sa housse,
On se serre un peu fort.
Un dernier regard pour
Les lits de mousse tassée,
Et les arbres muets
Mêm' quand l' bûch'ron les couche.
Et chacun r'part de son côté.

Alors on compte sur ses doigts.
Un' seul' main suffit quand on s'dit:
Pour qui je compte vraiment ?

Et puis quand la clairière,
S'éclaircit plus encore,
Qu'on sait par cœur le bois,
Ses pièges, ses réconforts,
Assis sur les souches
On se parle à soi-même
En dénombrant ses doigts.
On se demande : Qui m'aime ? Qui m'aime ?
Et une seule main suffit. 

For whom I count on

There are notebooks
And lost words
At the bottom of drawers
That we never reread
Because we're late
And there's always someone
We have to take care of
And that someone is never ourselves.

In chilly Flanders,
Under the oak and beech trees,
There is a pile of ashes
After a festive bonfire.
In the middle, cans,
Memories thrown away
That we pick up with weary eyes
To sort through later, perhaps.

So we count on our fingers.
One hand is enough when we ask ourselves:
Who do I really count on?

The coolers in the trunk,
The guitar in its case,
We hug a little tighter.
One last look at
The beds of packed moss,
And the silent trees
Even when the lumberjack cuts them down.
And everyone goes their separate ways.

So we count on our fingers.
One hand is enough when we say to ourselves:
Who do I really count on?

And then when the clearing
Grows even brighter,
When we know the woods by heart,
Its traps, its comforts,
Sitting on the stumps
We talk to ourselves
Counting our fingers.
We ask ourselves: Who loves me? Who loves me?
And one hand is enough.

Pour qui je compte. avec Philippe J

I always liked Van Morrisons Music. This is my version of Brown Eyed Girl  2025 a special tribute 

TRIBUTE " Brown Eyed Girl " (Covered by Glenny G)

“What makes a song is the singer, while what makes a singer is their dedication to music and their inner feelings.”   Dimash Qudaibergen

I have enjoyed music for as long as I can remember and cannot remember a day of not either singing or listening to music. I am self-taught when it comes to playing guitar but what I most enjoy is singing which I have been doing since around age 18. Now retired singing and playing the guitar is now just a hobby and something I do to help pass the time. Have always  loved the sound of a Martin guitar. Currently been playing a Road Series DR S2 for about 6 years. Thanks for listening. I also enjoy discovering the sounds of other talented musicians and singers here on SoundCloud.