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Greg Brown (born July 2, 1949) is a folk musician from Fairfield, IA, USA. His "Iowa Waltz" was unsuccessfully proposed to replace the state song of Iowa. Wikipedia
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Down by the river junior year
walking with my girl,
and we came upon a place
there in the tall grass where a couple
had been making love
and left the mark of their embrace.
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."
She said to me, "Let's do the same."
and still I taste her kisses
and her freckles in the sun
when I play the poet game. | | A young man down in hill country
in the year of '22
went to see his future bride.
She lived in a rough old shack
that poverty blew through.
She invited him inside.
She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,
she could only offer him bread and her name -
Grandpa said that it was the best gift
a fella ever had
and he taught me the poet game. | I had a friend who drank too much
and played too much guitar -
and we sure got along.
Reel-to-reels rolled across
the country near and far
with letters poems and songs..
but these days he don't talk to me
and he won't tell me why.
I miss him every time i say his name.
I don't know what he's doing
or why our friendship died
while we played the poet game. | | The fall rain was pounding down
on an old New Hampshire mill
and the river wild and high.
I was talking to her while leaves blew down
like a sudden chill -
there was wildness in her eyes.
We made love like we'd been waiting
all of our lives for this -
Strangers know no shame -
But she had to leave at dawn
and with a sticky farewell kiss
left me to play the poet game. | I watched my country turn into
a coast-to-coast strip mall
and I cried out in a song:
if we could do all that in thirty years,
then please tell me you all -
why does good change take so long?
Why does the color of your skin
or who you choose to love
still lead to such anger and pain?
And why do I think it's any help
for me to still dream of
playing the poet game? | | Sirens wail above the fields -
another soul gone down -
another Sun about to rise.
I've lost track of my mistakes,
like birds they fly around
and darken half of my skies.
To all of those I've hurt -
I pray you'll forgive me.
I to you will freely do the same.
so many things I didn't see,
with my eyes turned inside,
playing the poet game. | I walk out at night to take a leak
underneath the stars -
oh yeah that's the life for me.
There's Orion and the Pleiades
and I guess that must be Mars -
all as clear as we long to be.
I've sung what I was given -
some was bad and some was good.
I never did know from where it came
and if I had it all to do again
I am not sure I would
play the poet game. |
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