#AmericanWriters
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!