there is pot on my bible
1994 – RJC & TBD

There is pot on my Bible
there is beer on the floor.
There is a strange smelling smoke
going outside my door.
There is a whole world on fire
like an old Mercedes Benz
it is like hanging out drinking
with someone elses girl friend.
When Jane met Billy
or Jill met Sue
there is a whole world gone insane
sniffing airplane glue
it is like getting left alone
in a concentration camp
with Adolph and Stalin
and a bleach blond tramp.

But oh-oh can’t you see
someone with love is in love with me
and oh oh how do you do,
the pot on my Bible is for me and for you.

There is faith hear to please us
although we are left all alone
it is like a strange burning feeling
calling a different place your home.
When there is dot’s on the ceiling
and patterns on the wall
hoping that someone else is around
so they might catch you if you fall.
Because there are plastic politicians
airplanes crashing into the see
with all of these pleasures
sex is causing a disease
There are naturally born racists
a whole country loosing pride
a rock singer catastrophe
as we watch the music die

But oh oh can’t you see
someone with love is in love with me
and oh oh how do you do,
the pot on my Bible is for me and for you.

some claim that They have words
2001 – RJC

This one says that there is four of them
This one says that there is one
This one says it’s only through water,
While this one carries a gun,
Go to pray on Sabat,
Like they did a thousand times before,
Where no one can seam to agree, uh-oh,
Nothings sacred anymore.

One can smoke a cigarette and then sleep where he will please,
While he argues he’s a hypocrite
Who’s always on his knees?
Some say it’s in a the spirit,
Some swear that spirits dead.
As a child you try to understand,
Why certain things were put this in your head.

Eternally saved, I am down upon my knees.
You say you lost your salvation, could you help me find it please.
I have to keep on searching trying to find another way

Some say he came to save,
Some say he came to be,
Some say he saved the Jews,
And the gentiles that would believe.
Some say he will return,
Some say he already did.
All these reasons for debating,
Was he ever really dead?

One verse means this,
While others swear it’s that,
From the same old book of tales,
Without agreements religion lacks.
Some say let us drink this wine,
While others claim that it’s a sin,
Holiness is everything,
If you claim you won’t give in.

Eternally saved, I am down upon my knees.
You lost your salvation, could you help me find it please.
I have to keep on searching trying to find another way

Some claim that they have words
Some say that they put them in there own head
When there is no truth in what they claim
Is there spirituality really dead?
Still some try to make up stories
to get others to believe
When they are to blinded by their lies
To see that no one really will receive

Some claim that it’s a miracle
Some say it’s only chance
If the storm was on its way
Is it my faith that I lack?
I believe in intervention
in the most divine way
But I don’t receive excuses
Just to make up things to say

Eternally saved, I am down upon my knees.
You lost your salvation, could you help me find it please.
I have to keep on searching trying to find another way

ezekiel’s fifth dream
1990 – RJC

Dream of a chariot,
a chariot of gold.
Dream up a song,
or something you can hold.
When you open up your eyes,
tell me what you see.
I am standing hear alone,
are you dreaming of me?
I have lived a life of lying,
and it is easy to see my past.
What keeps my life going,
is the future and it’s task.
I have tried to hold onto something,
maybe it’s that chariot of gold.
I have tried to hold onto something,
but that chariot is getting old.
You bring the breath to dying lungs,
and a dream that is even higher.
What I want to hold onto now,
is the flame of your burning fire.
I will not get burned,
because your torch is a friend.
Your torch will keep on burning,
and our lives will never end.
Dream of a fire,
a fire that burns as gold.
Dream of a writer,
or words that wont grow old.
When you open up your eyes,
tell me what you see.
Your torch is still burning,
does it burn for me?

the music that was once nothing is now a part of me
1996 – RJC

The king is on the thrown,
with his love by his side.
The fool keeps talking,
while the jesters hide.
The jokers tell jokes,
could they be real.
The fiddler plays the fiddle,
is it love that they feel.
The music makes a different sound,
as the children begin to play.
The sun moves to different place,
to light up another day.
The dawn moves on,
and I can barely see.
The music that was once nothing,
is now apart of me.

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