| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 2:46 | 
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A winter's day
In a deep and dark December; I am alone, Gazing from my window to the streets below On (a) freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. I am a rock, I am an island. I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It's laughter and it's loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island. Don't talk of love, But I've heard the words before; It's sleeping in my memory. I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died. If I never loved I never would have cried. I am a rock, I am an island. I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain; And an island never cries |
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| 2. |
| 2:34 |
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I was 21 years when I wrote this song I'm 22 now, but I won't be for long Time hurries on And the leaves that are green turn to brown And they wither with the wind And they crumble in your hand Once my heart was filled with the love of a girl I held her close, but she faded in the night Like a poem I meant to write CHORUS I through a pebble in a brook And watched the ripples run away And they never made a sound CHORUS Hello hello hello hello Goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye That's all there is And the leaves that are green turn to brown |
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| 3. |
| 3:27 |
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A church is burning
The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They grow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free Three hooded men through the back roads did creep Torches in their hands while the village lies asleep Down to the church where just hours before Voices were singing and Hands were meeting and Saying "I won't be a slave anymore" And a church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They glow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free Three hooded men their hands lit the spark And they faded in the night they vanished in the dark And in the cold light of morning there was nothing that remained But the ashes of a Bible and a can of kerosene and A church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They glow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free A church is more than just timber and stone And freedom is a dark road when you're walking it alone But the future is now and it's time to take a stand So the lost bells of freedom can ring out in my land and A church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They glow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free |
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| 4. |
| 1:51 |
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April Come She Will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain; May, she will stay, Resting in my arms again. June, she'll change her tune, In restless walks she'll prowl the night; July, she will fly And give no warning to her flight. August, die she must, The autumn winds blow chilly and cold; September I'll remember. A love once new has now grown old. |
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| 5. |
| 3:10 |
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Hello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence In restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone 'Neat the halo of a street lamp I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence And in the naked light I saw Ten thousand people maybe more People talking without speaking People hearing without listening People writing songs that voices never share And no one dared Disturb the sound of silence said I You do not know Silence like a cancer grows Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you But my words like silent raindrops fell And echoed In the wells of silence And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed out it's warning In the words that it was forming And the signs said The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls And whispered in the sounds of silence |
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| 6. |
| 2:27 |
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He was A Most Peculiar Man.
That's what Mrs. Riordan said and she should know; She lived upstairs from him She said he was A Most Peculiar Man. He was A Most Peculiar Man. The lived all alone within a house, Within a room, within himself, A Most Peculiar Man. He had no friends, he seldom spoke And no one in turn ever spoke to him, 'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care And he wasn't like them. Oh, no! he was A Most Peculiar Man. He died last Saturday. He turned on the gas and he went to sleep With the windows closed so he'd never wake up To his silent world and his tiny room; And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere Who should be notified soon. And all the people said, "What a shame that he's dead, But wasn't he A Most Peculiar Man?" |
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| 7. |
| 2:50 |
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He was my brother
Five years older than I He was my brother Twenty-three Years old the day he died Freedom writer They cursed my brother to his face Go home outsider This town's gonna be your buryin' place He was singin' on his knees An angry mob trailed along They shot my brother dead Because he hated what was wrong He was my brother Tears can't bnng him back to me He was my brother And he died so his brothers could be free He died so his brothers could be free |
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| 8. |
| 3:32 |
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I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls Soft and warm continuing Tapping on my roof and walls. And from the shelter of my mind Through the window of my eyes I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets To England where my heart lies. My mind's distracted and diffused My thoughts are many miles away They lie with you when you're asleep And kiss you when you start your day. And a song I was writing is left undone I don't know why I spend my time Writing songs I can't believe With words that tear and strain to rhyme. And so you see I have come to doubt All that I once held as true I stand alone without beliefs The only truth I know is you. And as I watch the drops of rain Weave their weary paths and die I know that I am like the rain There but for the grace of you go I |
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| 9. |
| 2:21 |
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On the side of a hill, in a land called somewhere
A little boy lies asleep in the earth While down in the valley a crew orages And people forget what a child's life is worth On the side of a hill, a little cloud weeps And waters the gray with its silent tears While a soldier cleans a polishes a gun That ended a life at the age of seven years And the war rages on in the land called somewhere And generals order their men to kill And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten While a little cloud weeps on the side of a hill |
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| 10. |
| 2:21 |
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I been Norman Mailered, Maxwell Taylored
I been John O'Hara'd, McNamara'd I been Rolling Stoned and Beatled 'til I'm blind I been Ayn Randed, nearly branded A Communist, 'cause I'm left-handed That's the hand I use, well, never mind I been Phil Spectored, resurrected I been Lou Adlered, Barry Sadlered Well, I paid all the dues I want to pay And I learned the truth from Lenny Bruce And of all my wealth won't buy me health So I smoke a pint of tea a day I knew a man his brain so small He couldn't think of nothin' at all He's not the same as you and me He doesn't dig poetry, he's so unhip that When you say Dylan, he thinks you're talkin' about Dylan Thomas Whoever he is The man ain't got no culture But its alright, Ma, everybody must get stoned I been Mick Jaggered, silver daggered Andy Warhol, won't you please come home? I been mothered, fathered, aunt and uncled Been Roy Haleed and Art Garfunkeled I just discovered somebody's tapped my phone Folk rock I lost my harmonica, Albert |
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| 11. |
| 2:21 | 
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| 12. |
| 3:13 |
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The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves, Casting shivering shadows On the houses through the trees, And the light from a street lamp Paints a pattern on my wall, Like the pieces of a puzzle Or a child's uneven scrawL Up a narrow flight of stairs In a narrow Little room, As I lie upon my bed In the early evening gloom. Impaled on my wall My eyes can dimly see The pattern of my life And the puzzle that is me. >From the moment of my birth To the instant of my death, There are Patterns I must follow Just as I must breathe each breath. Like a rat in a maze The path before me lies, And the pattern never alters Until the rat dies. And the pattern still remains On the wall where darkness fell, And it's fitting that it should, For in darknesss I must dwell. Like the color of my skin, Or the day that I grow old, My life is made of Patterns That can scarcely be controlled |
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| 13. |
| 2:48 |
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A winter's day
In a deep and dark December; I am alone, Gazing from my window to the streets below On (a) freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. I am a rock, I am an island. I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It's laughter and it's loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island. Don't talk of love, But I've heard the words before; It's sleeping in my memory. I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died. If I never loved I never would have cried. I am a rock, I am an island. I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain; And an island never cries |
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| 14. |
| 3:10 |
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A church is burning
The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They grow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free Three hooded men through the back roads did creep Torches in their hands while the village lies asleep Down to the church where just hours before Voices were singing and Hands were meeting and Saying "I won't be a slave anymore" And a church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They glow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free Three hooded men their hands lit the spark And they faded in the night they vanished in the dark And in the cold light of morning there was nothing that remained But the ashes of a Bible and a can of kerosene and A church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They glow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free A church is more than just timber and stone And freedom is a dark road when you're walking it alone But the future is now and it's time to take a stand So the lost bells of freedom can ring out in my land and A church is burning The flames rise higher Like hands that are praying They glow in the sky Like hands that are praying The fire ascends You can burn down my churches But I shall be free |
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