Michael Leonhart Orchestra & Koand - Newspaper Pane

Newspaper Pane Lyrics

She looked at the pictures on a newspaper pane
That was taped to the window, to keep out the wind
To keep out the rain

To keep out the nonsense and block out the needing
To keep up her spirits with improving reading
But the ink from the columns
Dissolved down into the stain

On the bare wood floor that extended to the door
Pictures of bright futures somehow ignored
Had offered her finery she could never afford
Tempting out savings that she didn't have or could never risk
Not a fashionable kindness, it was grotesque

The beaus with their fiddles played "The Rascal's Release"
We toasted to valor and wished there were peace
Six months later in a newspaper margin
They were all cut down in a cavalry charge

Weeping Miss Imogen said to her priest
"I gave him my virtue, it was the least I could leave him
On the eve of departure
Though I will long for him now and hereafter"

And the child I'll be raising may have his blue eyes
What if he grows up and dies
On some distant, unnamable hillside or field
'Cause a king and a concubine put a mark on his shield

Thomas tomorrow, Thomas no more
Father and sunshine, beyond and before
William, who brought his drum home from the war
To beat it for young lads whose days didn't even add up to the score

I don't spend my time perfecting the past
I live for the future 'cause I know it won't last
A bent note on a horn I can't play
The ghosts in the window that I can't wish away

Freedom to be reckless, freedom to plunder
Freedom to dream, freedom to wonder
When you get where I am now you may feel differently
The cliff drops away, sharply falls into the sea

No work today, no hope tomorrow
No bread for breaking, no wine for sorrow
Nobody is selling, no truth for telling
No work tomorrow, no work today

Look at that child bride and her ideal bouquet
Boys pick up a rifle, that's too much to pay
Count out her teardrops
Wipe them away

Michael Leonhart Orchestra & Koand - Radio Is Everything

"Radio Is Everything"

I'm sitting here wondering if this matchbox will hold my dreams
Will the red head in my arms go up in flames?
Or dissolve mighty regimes with her screams, or so it seems
She dragged my face from the eye to my lip on the rough side of the striking strip
To the port side of a sinking ship
Staring in a compact mirror
A siren calling from another era
While you made faces and then blew kisses
Drowned in a pool that hypnotized Narcissus

They say I have a perfect face for radio
And a trumpet for listening
A cheek to turn to you
An eye for glistening
Tear that tear from me
Hold it in your memory
Pull away the powder and pain painted dream
Of this and that disgrace
A silver band of marching soles
A button of brass an epaulet of gold
That lenten light, that slight fanfare that consoles
That trivial, sniveling rosary, that ring-a-ding rosemary
Condemned a man, alas, at last, at requiem mass

I sound much better than I look
Like a hero in a book
Now there is too much at stake
But perhaps you mistook my mistake
For the tip in the print you dusted for
From the hand you forgot to shake

Tumbledown Dick said to King Oliver
"I don't shrink down at the thought of you
Give the people back their ringlet Prince just like you ought to do
Journey far from here like Gulliver
To lands at the edge of everywhere
That we have still to discover
Where there's a sole of a jackboot in a broken brace
Poised above a human face forever and ever"

You don't need to see my face
Radio Is Everything
You don't need to know my name
Radio Is Everything
The lie that I tell
It just doesn't matter
If I should deceive you
Or if I should flatter
If your bankroll gets thin while some kitty gets fatter
Radio Is Everything
From the straight to the narrow to the broadcast from within
Radio Is Everything