High Times - Tom Intondi

    We used to sit in Irish bars
    counting angels on a pin
    we tore the heart from every word
    kept out from gettin' in
    we'd argue muscle
    and the height of fame
    and who would win the pennant
    and the quality of drink
    at the bar down the street
    and the size of breasts
    on the new tenant
    we'd talk celt to the jukebox
    drop dime in our eyes
    dance with shadows in the corner
    measure sorrows
    in glasses of beer
    bought in round
    by the drunkest of the mourners
    taxi spittln' diamonds
    to junkies on a nod
    Irish barmen telling jokes
    rememberin' the old sod
    that city planted parking meters
    inside my brain
    had me stuffin' my ears with dimes
    to shut out the rain

    but now I sing about
    high times
    melt into stone
    I talk in tongues
    to a mountain stream
    get way down to the bone yea
    way down to the bone

    my songs pushed heartache
    on to the neon stage
    my words passed for silence
    in a silent rage
    i did not know the sun could rise
    like a hawk behind the moon
    I hadn't heard a river sing
    of anything but doom

    [repeat chorus]

    I thought I'd miss the dancin' streets
    and the ladies sellin' skin
    and the shivers bought with paper gold
    in the carnivals of sin
    for a while i dreamed of buses and subways
    high above the ground
    and i talked about the crazies
    and all the lost i found

    by Tan Intondi Frank Rossini © 1977 City Dancer Music


    Marco Giunco
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