Live recording made in January, 2010 at the Misson Coffeehouse, Santa Rosa, CA. I came across the South Bay Folk Society during a previous business trip and returned to play these two songs.
The first "Don't matter what you say" is a love song, full of anguish over the loss of a beautiful woman. The song was not written about personal experience, but rather about the emotion of loss.
The second song, "I see a place" was written in one take after waking from a dream one morning. I literally wrote the next verse as I was singing the current verse. I immediately went into some type of depression after doing so, since I don't expect this to happen again- It was a once in a lifetime channelling thing.
This song is about our insulation from the developing world and all the suffering that results from our consumption of material things. The images from this song, arrive from Boston (Red line), San Diego (Mark's apartment), Los Angeles (Surgical operating room) and various NY Times stories about the tragedies in Africa. The final image is from a jungle tent and the old man (Angel) is transported to the reader's paper on a Boston morning, only to be overlooked or "buried".
Lots of imagery in metaphor in this piece. For me, the best song I've ever written.
lyrics
I see a place
________________
X03010
Standing in a subway
X23010
amongst all the people
C 030010
looking at their papers
C 030010
staring out the window
Where are all the children?
my look at how we’ve grown,
but unlike little children
no one looks at me.
Standing in a playground
amongst the little faces
watching how they play
watching life’s sweet graces
Adorn these little souls
with wonder and amazement
so where is all our love?
and when did we lose it?
Chorus:
Am D7
I see a place
G 100001 Em G
so full of love and grace
F C
But when will it come?
E7 Am
when will it be done?
D7
and how long
G F Em G
shall we wait?
Standing at the border
a mother with her children
tired little faces
wondering where they’re sleeping.
Beneath the overpass
in downtown Tijuana
or in a cardboard shack
in the slums of Calcutta.
High above the city
the music softly playing
I see the banker
contemplating his good fortune.
But what of all the children,
cold and barely sleeping?
Far beneath his feet
can he hear their hearts beating?
Chorus
Standing near the surgeon
I see him deftly working,
hands moving surely,
removing nature’s witness.
Nurses all around him,
conductor of a symphony
a grand creation
of science and technology.
Deep within the jungle
within an unknown villiage
looking to a lantern
I see an old man bleeding.
A witness to a tragedy
another falling angel
buried in your paper
did you see him there this morning?
Chorus
Here is the church
here is the steeple
open all the doors
and see all the people....
credits
from Tully Pond,
released March 23, 2014
Bob Chaplinsky, Mark Guitarini, Aaron Amezcua, citizens of Mexico, Africa and Haiti.
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