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The Byrds

  • Messaggi
  • radcla
    00 19/12/2007 00:11
    Turn! Turn! Turn!




    To everything, turn, turn, turn.
    There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
    And a time to every purpose under heaven.
    A time to be born, a time to die.
    A time to plant, a time to reap.
    A time to kill, a time to heal.
    A time to laugh, a time to weep.

    To everything, turn, turn, turn.
    There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
    And a time to every purpose under heaven.
    A time to build up, a time to break down.
    A time to dance, a time to mourn.
    A time to cast away stones.
    A time to gather stones together.

    To everything, turn, turn, turn.
    There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
    And a time to every purpose under heaven.
    A time of love, a time of hate.
    A time of war, a time of peace.
    A time you may embrace.
    A time to refrain from embracing.

    To everything, turn, turn, turn.
    There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
    And a time to every purpose under heaven.
    A time to gain, a time to lose.
    A time to rend, a time to sow.
    A time for love, a time for hate.
    A time for peace, I swear it's not too late.

  • radcla
    00 19/12/2007 00:12
    Mr. Tambourine Man




    Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
    I'm not sleepy and there aint no place I'm going to.
    Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
    In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

    Take me for a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
    All my senses have been stripped, and my hands can't feel to grip,
    And my toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
    To be wanderin'.
    I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
    Onto my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
    I promise to go under it.

    Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
    I'm not sleepy and there aint no place I'm going to.
    Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
    In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
  • radcla
    00 19/12/2007 00:12
    He Was a Friend of Mine




    He was a friend of mine
    He was a friend of mine
    His killing has no purpose, no reason or rhyme
    He was a friend of mine

    He was in Dallas town
    He was in Dallas town
    From a sixth floor window a gunner shot him down
    He died in Dallas town

    He never knew my name
    He never knew my name
    Though I never met him, I knew him just the same
    Oh he was a friend of mine

    The leader of a nation for such a precious time
    Oh he was a friend of mine
  • radcla
    00 19/12/2007 00:13
    Eight miles high




    Eight miles high and when you touch down
    You'll find that it's stranger than known
    Signs in the street that say where you're going
    Are somewhere just being their own.
    Nowhere is there warmth to be found
    Among those afraid of losing their ground
    Rain gray town known for its sound
    In places small faces unbound

    Round the squares huddled in storms
    Some laughing some just shapeless forms
    Sidewalk scenes and black limousines
    Some living some standing alone
  • radcla
    00 19/12/2007 00:13
    Chimes of Freedom





    Far between sundown's finish and midnight's broken toll
    We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
    As majestic bells of bolts, struck shadows in the sounds
    Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing

    Flashing for the warriors, whose strength is not to fight
    Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
    And for each and every underdog soldier in the night
    We gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

    Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far off corner flashed
    And the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
    Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
    Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting

    Starry eyed and laughing, as i recall when we were caught
    Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
    And we listened one last time, and we watched with one last look
    Spellbound and swallowed till the tolling ended

    Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
    For the countless confused, accused, misused, srung-out ones and worse
    And for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
    We gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
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