Scarecrow

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Vintage54

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« on: October 04, 2014, 09:47:58 PM »
                             
                                        Scarecrow

              Casey waited all his life
              For a ship that only sailed away
              Born with a miners blood in his veins
              At the dawn of a working day
              At age sixteen he followed his dad
              To the bottom of a dirty hole
              And he filled his lungs with a black disease
              Crawling on his belly for coal

              When the old man died and the pit closed down
              And there was no work to be found
              He pulled his roots and he took em down south
              To plant em in some better ground
              But the streets were cold not paved with gold
              And the faces were as hard as stone
              And he wandered round like a hungry dog
              Scratching in the dirt for a bone

              He found a little work and he washed some pots
              And he pushed a part time broom
              And his nights were the long and lonesome kind
              On the sheets of a bed bug room
              His mind would roam to the hills back home
              As the wind whistled through the frame
              And he thought of the mother whose light went out
              Before he even knew her name

              Time it turned but its hands couldnt heal
              The pain of his daily grind
              And the likes of jack daniels and old jim beam
              Were the only friends he could find
              They led him down to the low side of town
              Where the salvation train never stops
              Spitting his lungs in a trash can fire
              And sleeping in a cardboard box

              His hair grew long and his shoulders sagged
              From the weight of his empty sack
              And his clothes looked like they belonged in a field
              Hanging on a scarecrows back
              Then one night when the world was white
              With the mercury at nine below
              His last breath froze in those scarecrow clothes
              Underneath a blanket of snow.
     

             

Carbor

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« Reply #1 on: October 04, 2014, 11:41:35 PM »
Wow, Vintage

This one packs a punch!! Sad. I feel sympathy for the character Casey you've created. What a hard life and the story told with great images and detail. Raw, brutal, uncooked. Love it.     :)

Peace,

Carbor
« Last Edit: October 04, 2014, 11:46:45 PM by Carbor »

Vintage54

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« Reply #2 on: October 04, 2014, 11:56:21 PM »

     Thanks man!
         Every reaction, good or bad, is a connection. Its all good as far as im concerned. Theres a thank you on the wind, blowing your way. Peace to you also, my friend.

                            Vintage54
       

tokenangmoh

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« Reply #3 on: October 05, 2014, 03:17:43 PM »
Hi Vintage.

I love your first two lines. What a perfect start to a story-song! (And they inspired me to write a lyric about sailing, which I've just posted.)

I like the rest of the piece too... The roots bit is nicely dealt with, and the "bed bug room" is great.

My only issue is I wanted a chorus. You're telling the whole span of this guy's life, and I wanted something briefer and more focused to contrast with that.

But the verses are strong, so I shouldn't complain. :P

By the way, I nominated you for September Lyrics of the Month - I don't know if you're aware... Do remember to vote!

Matt

Bleedin Boy

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« Reply #4 on: October 06, 2014, 07:39:26 AM »
This is excellent, really good descriptions of the man's life. I love the lyric about the part time broom. Simple yet effective. Well done. For me the simple easy flow reflects how his life was kind of always going to turn out that way. Good stuff.

PopTodd

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« Reply #5 on: October 06, 2014, 10:22:53 PM »
A really great story and great, descriptive language.
My only critiques would be small nits. And, even those might not pertain, once you get a melody behind it.

example:
Quote
  Time it turned but its hands couldnt heal
              The pain of his daily grind

I would change to:
  Time kept turning but its hands couldnt heal
              The pain of his daily grind

or, maybe:
  Time dragged on but its hands couldnt heal
              The pain of his daily grind

or something like that...

Paulski

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« Reply #6 on: October 07, 2014, 05:11:15 PM »
Some super lines in there and nicely turned phrases - wish I could do that!
I wouldn't change a thing if this were to be published as a story type poem.
As a song lyric though I wanted some kind of hook, maybe a chorus, or at the minimum a repeating line at the end of every verse. Introducing the theme/nugget so late in the song breaks Ralph Murphy's law but they say if 15% of a swarm of bees didn't get lost, they'd never find new sources of honey..
Nice write!
Paul