1. |
Changed Man
03:16
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CHANGED MAN
Bruce Balmer 9/15/03
A man can’t change
He can do the best he can
He can lasso the moon sometimes
He can break a spell and make things die
A man can’t change from these things;
I am a changed man.
A man can’t change
From the mud of which he’s made
From never being satisfied
He can’t change the weather or his past crimes
A man can’t change, it’s my belief;
I am a changed man
A man can’t change though
He may have changed your mind
Might have pulled you close
Been taken in and thought he chose
A man can’t change a broken seal
And I can’t change how I am with you
I am a changed man
I am a changed man
A Changed Man
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2. |
Elements
04:20
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ELEMENTS
Bruce Balmer copyright 2003
M.M. ¼ = 132
Oceans of sand in the desert, deserts of salt in the sea
Crystals in time; witness to the crime
Someone to wash over me
Gallons of wind in a thimble, thimbles of tears on a sail
Buckets of ether; neither here nor there
Can’t hear a thing in a sea shell
It takes a spell to catch a salmon
Runs from May to January;
If you should care to reexamine
My heart’s among the statuary
- Instrumental half-verse -
Jumble of currants in jelly; jellyfish scramble and sift
Tall tales from wells; a library of cells
Someone to give me a lift
Bonfire with hotdogs and mustard,
Mustard seed shift in the mood
Marrow from stone; coral from the bone
A barnacle clings to driftwood
You don’t give me a lot of choices
Hopes could not be high or drier
My heart’s been deafened by the noises
Can’t hear the wind in the fire
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3. |
Coattails
02:50
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COATTAILS
Bruce Balmer copyright 2002
Ridin’ in on my Coattails, Crystal chandelier for sale;
Catspaw pullin’ out toenails, Creases flattened, goin’ to jail.
Cross words wit a nitwit, Chrome job full of flakes and pits;
Fungus on a wristlet, Home bus full of Football Brits.
Pigeon spins on past
Hen couldn’t care less;
Crow songs last and last
Had enough of watercress.
Death hangs from a first kiss, Hip on college campuses;
Christians in the circus, Stepping over carcasses.
Contacts hard to come by, Eyeballs roll, elasticize;
Loosen up your string tie, Swat and miss at gnats and flies.
Roast pig on the spit
Smoke curls around my feet;
Railroad lanterns lit
Rented rooms and trailer suite.
Weekend in the Catskills, Lost a ski in the bogey wheels;
Scrumpets in the landfills, Land of erstwhile sour deals.
Shovelin’ in the drygoods, Visibility gets bad;
Drinkin’ in the deep woods, Solvency’s the latest fad.
Impeccable accounts
Razors whet and hone;
Surface tension mounts
Hours pass, stone by stone.
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4. |
If I Was A Denigrator
02:33
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IF I WAS A DENIGRATOR
Bruce Balmer copyright 2003
If I was a denigrator
And you were a castigator
Would you carouse with me anyways?
We could raise allegators……
If I was a radiator
And you was a sweet potater
Would you bake with me anyways?
We could be recreators.
If I was a simonizer
And you was a harmonizer
Would you hum with me anyways?
We could be french farizers……
If I was a can of beans
And you was a tourmaline
Would you marry me anyway?
Could we ever, ever be seen?
If I was the missing link
And you was a wishful think
Would you stay home with me anyways?
We could iron out the kinks;
Would you stay home with me anyways?
Leave the dishes in the sink.
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5. |
Happy Landings
02:26
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HAPPY LANDINGS
Bruce Balmer - copyright 2002
Capo III, M.M. ¼ = 110
Things are looking good for me, at least on paper;
My game’s in real estate, I put my tenants off till later
Temporarily confounding to the Shift-Shaper
One step ahead of the Terminator
The world is all balled up underneath my feet
Careening off balance seems an endless plight
Sneaking into attics, disturbing mists I meet
Looking over my shoulder at pursuing daylight
Chorus:
Half as much and half again
Don’t leave much ground to stand on
I keep makin’ the go-arounds,
Just enough to keep my hand in
I don’t scrutinize at personal integrity or branding
Rather reinforce my corduroys and
Look for Happy Landings
When I take uneasy rest I dream I am the angel
Who takes away the monsters and the heart’s desire
They’re locked up in the back room with my spare keys and my cudgel
It’s been said I cut my teeth on a strand of barbed wire
I provide a service in a stormy climate
I can always find you a splendid room
My road house makes me money by any estimate
I’ve always got a place to stay but I’ll never have a home.
Half as much and half again
Don’t leave much ground to stand on
I keep makin’ the go-arounds,
Just enough to keep my hand in
I don’t scrutinize at personal integrity or branding
Rather reinforce my corduroys and
Look for Happy Landings
It’s been said “boys will be boys” and I
Look for Happy Landings
Got lots of toys, make lots of noise, and I
Look for Happy Landings
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6. |
Love Is Not A Word
02:55
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LOVE IS NOT A WORD
Bruce Balmer copyright 2004
Love is not a word,
A word is not enough;
Nor is a rose a bud,
And a word, though it may bleed,
Will be not blood.
Blood is not a flame
Of anger or shame;
Flames are not flowers,
Though poesies burn my ears;
And a flower’s not a seed;
The seed returns to ground,
Whence it came.
Should love become a word,
The word will bring on wars
Between lovers and their love;
Words, though they may weep,
Are a lover’s curse.
But when love is in the air
There is no guiding hand
Just a need to fill a need
And to give a lover lease
To leave or stand
No, love is not the word;
The word does not suffice
To hold the holding one;
The one I sacrifice,
The one I love.
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7. |
Mom And Dad's Polka
03:37
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MOM AND DAD’S POLKA
Bruce Balmer COPYRIGHT 2003
My Mom and Dad were 20th century
Somehow got by without serious injury
Birds of a feather, scoffed at the weatherman
My Mom and Dad left me a legacy
“You can make lunch out of a fantasy,
Son, if you’ve got a coin and a slot machine;
“Who’s going to stop you from pretending it’s all a carousel?
Tell ‘em all ‘Go to Hell;’
Just do it… kindly.”
My Mom met Dad, “He’s from Massachusetts
A man with a tool, and he knows how to use it
Gets 2 bucks an hour; I think it’s now or not!”
My Mom married Dad, they were nobody’s fools,
They put all they had into wagons and swimming pools
They put aside the cares of the wide, wild world
My Dad thought my Mom was
All any woman could ever be;
Least that’s what he told me,
And I believed him. (Everybody whistle!)
Who’s going to keep you from
Carving a horse to a carousel
Or a dragon, as well?
Just you let them try...
(How about that dragon?...Fire breathin'... like my MOM...)
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8. |
Always
02:45
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ALWAYS
(Fer Lisa)
(Apologies to L. von B.)
Bruce Balmer copyright 2004
This fragile yarn of plain brown wool
Will neither mend nor darn this turned-down soul;
I think of you and wrack my brains
To find loose ends from knotty skeins
My one ambition is to see you through the years,
Mellow into old age
Colors clear, hazel eyes, hazel tears.
I have my days, I do my best;
Then there are those, I suppose I fail the test.
(It all goes bust.)
When days go well, I can pretend
Nights with you might come and never end
But endless chase
or hopeless case,
I will be yours
Always,
My Love
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Bruce Balmer Woodstock, New York
Bruce is a solo singer-songwriter.
Bruce lives in Woodstock, NY, with his wife, Lisa Markley, known together as
Markley & Balmer. Having met at and married at the Kerrville Folk Festival in 2008, while living in Dallas, Texas, he and Lisa hosted a songwriter's meeting based on the Greenwich Village Songwriter’s Collective hosted by the late Jack Hardy in NYC. Bruce is a busker.
... more
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