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Masterpieces
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Singer/ songwriter
Lawrence Bullock is a singer songwriter living in Mendocino, CA I'm often asked who I sound like, what kind of music do I play. Well, I listen to a lot of things. In Ireland they say I sound like Christie Moore, Bob Dylan (which surprises the hell out of me), Van Morrison (again, surprised) and I've even gotten Jim Croce on occasion. But you know, I'm thinking of chucking it all and banging on rocks til I reach a state where the atoms split apart and I realize that life's the first skip of the stone God throws across the Universe pond. I just write what comes into my head. I never think about writing a "hit" tune. I know the formula for writing a "hit" tune, it just never occurs to me to write one. The music biz these days is so corporatized, that what I write seems quaint and out of date. Oh well, I can only write what I write.
Song Info
Genre
Blues Blues General
Charts
#6,421 today Peak #127
#2,738 in subgenre Peak #46
Author
(Lawrence Bullock)
Rights
2005
Uploaded
April 09, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.1 MB 128 kbps 5:36
Lyrics
Up and down, smile and frown Moonlight, sunlight, inspiration We are paintings hanging in a gallery so small It’s a miracle they’re seen at all And oh, the colors used to be so bright That you could see them clearly by a candlelight With canvases so large they couldn’t be framed So long ago when nothing had a name CHORUS But time remains, though minutes start To seem like chains around the heart So we begin as works of art Who find that even masterpieces come apart Stone and clay, come what may Hurricanes and earthquakes and other occasions We are sculptures frozen in moments of decision Waiting to be freed by a magician But oh, we used to move at the speed of light And step with much precision, as a spider might Around the webs of fear and guilt and blame So long ago when nothing had a name CHORUS But time remains, though minutes start To seem like chains around the heart So we begin as works of art Who find that even masterpieces come apart Wind and rain, pleasure, pain All the notes from far below to over We are songs that angel voices sweetly used to sing And now there’s effort in remembering And oh, there was such passion in the melodies and they were boldy written in so many keys A thousand repititions, but no two the same So long ago when nothing had a name CHORUS But time remains, though minutes start To seem like chains around the heart So we begin as works of art Who find that even masterpieces come apart
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