if the new note does not load please hit ctrl & alt on your keyboard and the same time hit refresh in your browser.

7/8/04

I can't seem to stop writing these days...Some new lyrics of mine below plus a link to a rather  compelling painting I stumbled on tonight...

Peace,

John



Dover                                       By John Flynn

Elijah was a sergeant, 42 years old
from Mesa Arizona, now he  won’t grow old
Patrick was with C Troop, Second Armored Cav
His buddies all remember how he loved to laugh
Seth was from East Brunswick, just a newlywed
In New Jersey his young widow bows her head
Daniel was from Boston stationed at Fort Bragg
His mother got her son back with a folded flag

Chorus:
Scrubbed wooden pallets with bright white straps over
long boxes of flag draped aluminum
The cargo plane’s crowded when it lands in Dover
The honor guard gently makes room again

Gussie was a scrub nurse hailing from Fort Bliss
Gussie had a smile this world’s gonna miss
Jason’s dad was shot down over Vietnam
In Tikrit he met up with a makeshift bomb
William was in Anbar, combat engineer
1^st Marine Division, William isn’t here
Jeremiah’s son cries on his mamma’s knee
Jeremiah’s humvee hit an I.E.D. chorus

Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons
Heroes who answered the call
Will someone wonder when all’s said and done
Did Dover deserve them at all?

(c) 2004 Flying Stone Music

7/7/05

rewrite....

Gerda                                              by John Flynn

Gerda sits alone in her small house each night
A couple decades younger than electric light
Turning faded pages in her husband’s chair
(Men walked on the moon when Willi last sat there)

Hair like steam escaping from a boiling pot
Bony hands that barely tie the bath robe knot
Eyes like windows blown out in a hurricane
Star of David hanging from a silver chain

Chorus:
Joy cometh in the morning
Although weeping tarries through the night
Joy cometh in the morning
Gerda’s waiting for the morning light

I see her by her mail box every day or so
She never smiles but sometimes if I say hello
She’ll talk to me, her voice thin but her accent thick
like something from an old Marlena Dietrich flick

When we moved in the neighbors said Don’t waste your breath
She’s just a mean old hag who scares the kids to death
Sometimes late at night she stares out from her door
As if there’s someone or something she’s waiting for chorus

In this whole world she never did a body harm
Sadly this whole world can’t say the same
Though in the camp they tattooed numbers on her arm
The psalm tattooed on Gerta's heart proclaims chorus

(c) 2004 Flying Stone Music