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Santa Fe Song
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A quick-paced ballad about a homeless man I met in Santa Fe who changed my life. Note: Play in hi-fi. Low-fi sounds terrible!
anarchist music radical m riotfolk political folk
Artist picture
High-energy political folk with powerful lyrics and an innovative acoustic sound.
Hey Friends, I am Evan Greer, a radical singer/songwriter originally from Boston. My songs roam from the romance of a trainyard to the frontlines of the class-war. My style is sort of aggressive folk. I envision a world where people are free to live their lives in the way that they choose, and where our social interactions are based on love, mutual aid, and solidarity, rather than exploitation and greed. My songs are for anyone who has ever envisioned such a world, anyone who has ever fought for one, and anyone who ever thought that one was impossible, but wished it weren't so.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #137
Peak in subgenre #14
Author
Evan Greer
Rights
screw intellectual property.
Uploaded
February 09, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.5 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
I was playing my guitar on the streets of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I met a homeless man there who called himself Travelin' Tim. We talked for a while and I asked him where I could get something to eat cheap. He offered to give me one of his food stamps. That sort of unbridled human generosity made me rethink what anarchism is really all about. It's not about wearing black, it's about respecting the inherent dignity of every human being.
Lyrics
Well the world's been hard on him so he has taken it to town and he never gave up or let it get him down. His hands are made of stone and his mind is made of clay. And he can't stop moving or he is gonna fade away. (chorus) Travelin' Tim is gonna walk again today he's got 57 miles in the mirrors of his eyes and if you don't care how it's supposed to be then you won't mind when things don't go the way they're supposed to go. Well the Man says we ain't supposed to sit together or gnaw on the same white bone. Me a rich white kid from Boston Him a man without a home. But forget the Man and his ideas we are sitting and we're talking here. And god forbid I actually learn what freedom is. (chorus) Well life is pretty simple for a man with nothing to prove. It's just one foot then the next one and he kicks aside the borders as he moves. And there's really no reason why he shouldn't keep on walking and forget the time leave me on the sidewalk, writing my rhymes it's all right. (chorus)
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