Out In Sky

All my words is wrong
forget it
You take me back so calm
to prove that           you won't regret it
O it won't take long
                                  if we let it

Hold my hands I'm breaking out in sky
Cloud formation canopy of lying in July
                                                                          and O-o-o

You take me to the wall
It's lights and smokes, no weeping Charlie Brown
Oo it won't be long till we'll miss this

Light my fuse we'll launch this up in sky
Flowers flare in darkness and we'll re-ignite July
                                                                                          and O-o-o

Ooooooo00ooooooOoooooOoooooo

The names we make are all
forgotten
The cold of Russia halted their marches
Ooo who shoots a gun in a garden??

Angels come and take apart this wall
Picking daisy afternoons, alive in paradise
                                                                              and O-o-0

07 Out In Sky

Crazy, this world makes me feel
crazy. with
All the cynical debating.
I’m changing lanes and I will
try
to get through
just to find out it’s all blocked off anyway.

Flakey…
the elders’ scalps are flaking. 
We dig the graves and say a prayer
for the thieves,
on the wind hear
the ghost of a stampede.

Oh-oh, o-oh-wah, o-oh-wa, o-o

I’m not the kind of guy to let you suffer.
I’ll put back what’s right: that there’s no other.
All I wanna do
when I see the starlings swirling
is be held,
hear you say,
“We’ll be alright.”

Sharpen your knives, clean your pans!
Sharpen your knives, clean your pans!
Sharpen your knives, clean your pans!
Sharpen your knives, clean your pans!

Shaking~~~~
you tell me that our world is ~breaking.
Your dishonesty is abrasive,    ~	evasive
you’re~morphing~shapes~and~changing~faces.
I’m standing on the tiger’s tail	in my sleep
						             with a Japanese Chaplin
wringing dew out of my sleeves.

I’m not the kind of guy to let you suffer.
I’ll put back what’s right: that there’s no other.
All I wanna do
when I see the starlings swirling
is be held,
hear you say,
“We’ll be alright.”

Oh-oh, o-oh-wah, o-oh-wa, o-o

The Tiger's Tail

Old Sap is at least a bearded man with a banjo; at most, he's the sound of an old rocking chair creaking on a summer porch and the voice of a pine tree as the surrounding Maples lose their rusty leaves. Fusing Celtic traditional, Americana, and drawing major influence from the Western folk music of the past several decades, Old Sap's songs tell stories of loss, of finding joy in adventure and uncertainty, of bowing humbly to the mystery at the center of all things singing praise to our shared existence on this planet.