Once my lover, now my friend
What a cruel thing to pretend
What a cunning way to condescend
Once my lover, and now my friend
Oh, you creep up like the clouds
And you set my soul at ease
Then you let your love abound
And you bring me to my knees
Oh, its evil, babe, the way you let your
grace enrapture me
When well you know, I’d be insane –
to ever let that dirty game recapture me
You made me a shadowboxer, baby
I wanna be ready for what you do
I been swinging all around me
‘Cause I don’t know when you’re
gonna make your move
Oh, your gaze is dangerous
And you fill your space so sweet
If I let you get too close
You’ll set your spell on me
So darlin’ I just wanna say
Just in case I don’t come through
I was on to every play
I just wanted you
But, oh, it’s so evil, my love, the way you’ve
no reverence to my concern
So I’ll be sure to stay wary of you, love,
to save the pain of
Once my flame and twice my burn
You made me a shadowboxer, baby
I wanna be ready for what you do
I been swinging all around me
‘Cause I don’t know when you’re
gonna make your move
And she was lying in the grass
And she could hear the highway breathing
And she could see a nearby factory
She’s making sure she is not dreaming
See the lights of a neighbor’s house
Now she’s starting to rise
Take a minute to concentrate
And she opens up her eyes
{Refrain}
The world was moving, she was
Right there with it, and she was
The world was moving, she was
Floating above it, and she was
And she was
And she was drifting through the backyard
And she was taking off her dress
And she was moving very slowly
Rising up above the earth
Moving into the universe, and she’s
Drifting this way and that
Not touching ground at all, and she’s
Up above the yard
{Refrain}
And she was glad about it, no doubt about it
She isn’t sure about what she’s done
No time to think about what to tell them
No time to think about what she’s done
And she was, hey-hey, hey-hey-hey
And she was looking at herself
And things were looking like a movie
She had a pleasant elevation
She’s moving out in all directions, oh oh oh
Shawn Colvin
CD: Fat City
I love the lushness of the lyrics and the fact that the whole song is about sex without every explicitly stating that.
Full, full moon and that same sad nature
I wanna cover every inch of you like ink on paper
Like the blind parade of souls Consumed by religion
I can’t wait ’til I get you in that defenseless position
When we set the prairie on fire
we go down to the water, naked and slow
You and me and the heart of desire
We set the prairie on fire
How hard will the wind blow
How far will it go
When the feeling burns down to one solitary color
the velocity of longing, melting into each other
It’s a song our fingers play all at once and together
You can bet we never learned it, but we’ve know it forever
I dreamed that we were flying, carried up from the ashes
Black silhouettes of velvet against the crimson of passion
We can almost hear the echoes from the smoldering meadow
It’s the rapture of the angels and the rage of devil
In the cool dusk of horses through the rusted wires of sleep
With our arms around midnight, we’re headed for release
we go riding in the wind, we go riding in the dark
go riding, riding
When we set the prairie on fire
we go down to the water, naked and slow
You and me and the heart of desire
We set the prairie on fire
How hard will the wind blow
How far will it go.
You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner,
because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.
There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom Jones,
Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back after a message
about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your bedroom,
a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver’s seat.
The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.