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10,000 Maniacs lyrics
Album: Our Time in Eden [1992]
| These Are Days | |
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[ buck/merchant ]
[ percussion: paulinho da costa ]
These are days you’ll remember.
Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this.
And as you feel it, you’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky.
It’s true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.
These are days you’ll remember.
When may is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour.
You’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky.
It’s true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.
These are days.
These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break.
These days you might feel a shaft of light make it’s way across your face.
And when you do you’ll know how it was meant to be.
See the signs and know their meaning.
It’s true, you’ll know how it was meant to be.
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking to you, to you.
How Correct Are These Lyrics?1 - Aweful2 - Bad3 - Mediocre4 - Good5 - Flawless
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| Gold Rush Brides | |
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[ buck/merchant ]
[ harmonica: charles fleischer ]
Follow the typical signs, the hand-painted lines, down prairie roads.
Pass the lone church spire.
Pass the talking wire from where to who knows?
There’s no way to divide the beauty of the sky from the wild western plains.
Where a man could drift, in legendary myth, by roaming over spaces.
The land was free and the price was right.
Dakota on the wall is a white-robed woman, broad yet maidenly.
Such power in her hand as she hails the wagon man’s family.
I see indians that crawl through this mural that recalls our history.
Who were the homestead wives?
Who were the gold rush brides?
Does anybody know?
Do their works survive their yellow fever lives in the pages they wrote?
The land was free, yet it cost their lives.
In miner’s lust for gold.
A family’s house was bought and sold, piece by piece.
A widow staked her claim on a dollar and his name, so painfully.
In letters mailed back home her eastern sisters they would moan
As they would read accounts of madness, childbirth, loneliness and grief.
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| I'm Not the Man | |
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[ merchant ]
[ bassoons: kim laskowski & atsuko sato ]
It crawls on his back, won’t ever let him be.
Stares at the walls until the cinder blocks can breathe.
His eyes have gone away, escaping over time.
He rules a crowded nation inside his mind.
He knows that night like his hand.
He knows every move he made.
Late shift, the bell that rang, a time card won’t fade.
10:05 his truck pulled home.
10:05 he climbed his stair, about the time he was accused of being there.
But I’m not the man.
He goes free as I wait on the row for the man to test the rope he’ll slip around my throat...
And silence me.
On the day he was tried no witnesses testified.
Nothing but evidence, not hard to falsify.
His own confession was a prosecutor’s prize,
Made up of fear, of rage and of outright lies.
But I’m not the man.
He goes free as the candle vigil glows, as they burn my clothes.
As the crowd cries, "hang him slow!" and I feel my blood go cold, he goes free.
Call out the kkk, they’re wild after me.
And with that frenzied look of half-demented zeal,
They’d love to serve me up my final meal.
Who’ll read my final rite and hear my last appeal?
Who struck this devil’s deal?
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