I love the female voice. I married an opera singer after all.
Below is an example of a great song and a fantastic live performance:
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODht89gxg8o
I love the female voice. I married an opera singer after all.
Below is an example of a great song and a fantastic live performance:
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODht89gxg8o
Heard this on World Cafe a while back. Thought provoking lyrics.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwtV7L5bxtk
So,
Even though I don't have an abundance of free time these days, I've embarked upon a bit of an experiment in communication.
This involves a specific electronic media channel, and an institution.
If you're interested, contact me and I'll provide details. For now, I'm keeping the public parts of this endeavour limited. Not for the sake of being nefarious in any way. It happens to be part of the experiment.
HINT: @
Well I'm on the Downeaster Alexa
And I'm cruising through Block Island Sound
I have charted a course to the Vineyard
But tonight I am Nantucket bound
We took on diesel back in Montauk yesterday
And left this morning from the bell in Gardiner's Bay
Like all the locals here I've had to sell my home
Too proud to leave I worked my fingers to the bone
So I could own my Downeaster Alexa
And I go where the ocean is deep
There are giants out there in the canyons
And a good captain can't fall asleep
I've got bills to pay and children who need clothes
I know there's fish out there but where God only knows
They say these waters aren't what they used to be
But I've got people back on land who count on me
So if you see my Downeaster Alexa
And if you work with the rod and the reel
Tell my wife I am trolling Atlantis
And I still have my hands on the wheel
Now I drive my Downeaster Alexa
More and more miles from shore every year
Since they tell me I can't sell no stripers
And there's no luck in swordfishing here
I was a bayman like my father was before
Can't make a living as a bayman anymore
There ain't much future for a man who works the sea
But there ain't no island left for islanders like me
Crowded House – Recurring Dream
Within myself
There are a million things
Spilling over
Falling out into a silent stream
Feel the warm wind touch me
Hear the waters crashing
See my windows wiping clean
It`s my recurring dream
Within myself
A secret world returns
Over and over
Where the white flame of desire burns
Feel the warm wind touch me
Hear the waters crashing
See my windows wiping clean
It`s my recurring dream
Within myself
There are a million things
Feel the warm wind touch me
Hear the waters crashing
See my windows wiping clean
It`s my recurring dream