1. |
Who of Fools
04:34
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Who of Fools
By Mark Bishop Evans
Words 1985 & 2019, Music 2019
How much the price in peace of mind accomplishments to come
What the prize at end of time when ambitions fire done
Where the pride in finish fine with blood upon your hands
Why no peace or comfort thine as all alone you stand
What makes you travel on so far before you realize
How worthless are your promises intended more a lies
Where did you acquire the wounds that haunt you like a ghost
Why can you still not recall the ones that hurt the most
(Chorus)
Who of fools will find Wrongs come back in time
That’s the way. We always pay the price
When you stand up there alone surveying all your greed
You will be unsatisfied as still you feel the need
How can you expect those things to fill and satisfy
When you know the greatest prize will always be denied
(Chorus)
Which the pose behind you hide that cuffs you with this name
Was the plan so selfish blind in counting others pain
Who of fools more greater shine by winning never scored
When the pain more tighter bind than masking as reward
(Chorus)
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2. |
Honor
05:05
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Honor – by Mark Bishop Evans – 20220227
Honor some demand is free to every man.
But I must disagree for it more rightly seems to me
That honor must be won, reward for something done.
It surely has a cost, has been wagered, has been lost
Since first recorded time the mass of human crimes,
like symbols etched in pain, and blood that falls like rain
Clings to every cause be it politics or gods.
And man’s torment of man lay countless as the sand
In Jericho and Rome atrocities were known.
From Dresden’s raging fire to Pilgrim witches’ pyres
From Hitler’s cruelest gas to the Nagasaki blast.
Why don’t we despair in this wickedness we share?
Rwandans and Armenians, the Kurd and yes, the Jews.
The Navajo, the Creole, Apache, and the Sioux
In Nanking and in Lebanon, Cambodia and more.
In Congo and in Palestine and don’t forget Darfur
Namibia and My Lai the death was also there.
It stretches ‘cross the centuries this endless trail of tears
And now another war to cleave the open sore.
A rising bloody tide where children burn and die
Where innocence is lost to another holocaust,
and armies come in force to nail honor to a cross
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3. |
Golden Trees
05:40
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Golden Trees – Mark Bishop Evans – 8081119
In fertile fields of waving corn stocks a battered scarecrow stands alone
Guarding acres for his master who’s not home
Day after day he keeps on standing, gently swaying in the breeze
Someone please go tell the master won’t you…
Chorus
Please hear the song of my swaying. Please hear the cry from the land
Please hear that Mother Earth is dying. Dying to have someone understand.
The scarecrows clothes are growing ragged. His straw is falling to the ground
And as his life falls out his shirtsleeves landing all around
The crows are circling high above him. Busy casing just like thieves
Someone please go find the master won’t you…
Chorus
The scarecrows legs are growing weaker, a gust of wind has blown him down
Now he’s lying near his mother, the long past fertile ground.
The birds flew down to take their vengeance, beating down the golden trees
Still from the distance comes a whisper asking…
Chorus
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4. |
Paradise is Burning
05:56
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Paradise is Burning – Mark Bishop Evans – 20220425
In the hot wind of November, the Sierra’s parched and dry.
The drought has lasted ten years now and if trees could they’d cry
No water in the rivers or moisture in the ground
and the Santa Anna’s blowing, and she makes a mournful sound
So, it’s really not surprising that the wind took down a line
sending sparks into the brush on Camp Creek number nine
And embers rising to the sky soon settle the ground,
like firebirds they start a blaze wherever they touch down.
There’s fire on the mountain and the smoke is in the sky
Blazing like a fountain as it burns into the night
It rages through the valley as fast as eagle flew
And Paradise is burning and there’s nothing we can do
As the town was slowly waking-up to start another day
the ash had started falling and fire is on its way
On the outskirts homes were burning and the calls were pouring in,
but they were told they’re on their own, resources were too thin
As the sun broke the horizon an alarm was finally raised,
but by then it was far to late and for the forest was ablaze
And panic starts to smolder when there’s nowhere left to turn,
and the roads are blocked, and the town is caught, as walls of fire churn
Now they’re trying to evacuate on the one road out of town,
but that became a stalemate as the burning trees came down
Minutes can be hours when you’re trying to survive,
and the only thing that matters is to keep your kids alive
In a last and desperate gamble, the fire trucks circle ‘round,
and all those who were able came and huddled on the ground
As a tidal wave of raging flame swept across the land
until not a single building, barn or tree was left to stand
The people in that circle lived and many others too,
but over 80 of their neighbors died, all people that they knew
Nineteen thousand buildings burned with nothing left but ash,
and Paradise is no more, and it happened in a flash
Now some have promised to return while others chose to leave.
But as temperatures keep rising the dangers just increase
So, if you want that life again this truth you’ll have to face,
and perhaps you build your Paradise in a different place.
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5. |
Dominoes
04:05
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¬¬Dominoes – by Mark Bishop Evans 022022
Who knows why men prophesy and then deny what they imply?
They magnify what underlies the need to justify
Pedigrees aren’t guaranties for living free of life’s debris
The destiny of refugees begins as fantasy
At end of day as visions fade in sad display of what we’ve made
The slow decay that overlays corruptions underway
Within this place the egos race with frantic pace to win their place
In every case this fate they face how not to be erased
Can any know what mysteries show from wild seed sown on high plateaus
And things the grow in ridged rows will fall like dominoes
We often find that peace-of-mind is so entwined with being blind
That to unwind the ties-that-bind will leave you more confined.
And when the song is somehow wrong you find the throng won’t sing along
Pretending strong will just prolong as agony’s drag on
Chorus
Like every plan yet small or grand is made to stand the frying pan
While wisdom ran like grains of sand untethered through your hands
The breath of life is cold as ice when painted nice it will entice
And bring you twice the going price then cut you like a knife.
Chorus
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6. |
Spirit Hearts
07:00
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Spirit Hearts – Mark Bishop Evans – 20220310
¬¬
Many years ago, when this land was our beautiful home, where buffalo and deer and the children of our people could roam
We hunted and we played, and we lived and we loved as we pleased, taking what we needed while living with the Mother in peace
Life had been that way for our people for so many years that no one could imagine a future full of so many tears
So, on the distant day when we saw the first white man appear, we opened up our arms never knowing we had so much to fear
What started as a tickle eventually became a great flood that swept across the land bringing nothing but fire and blood
We tried to stand our ground and hold on to a measure of pride. But all we did was nothing when up against that on-rushing tide
The soldiers, the miners and the farmers they came, and they came, until we had to bow and finally surrender our claim
They gathered what was left of us and sent us to a forsaken land. And many of our children died amid the cactus and sand
Spirit Hearts all alone. Spirit hearts, need a home. Spirit hearts left to roam. Spirit hearts, bring them home
Apparently, all our pain and sorrow just wasn’t enough. then they came a gathered up the children and took them from us
They said that they would teach them and train them to live a new life So how could we imagine how many of our babies would die
They put them all in uniforms and marched them off to what they called schools and many of them die when they just couldn’t follow their rules
They cut off all their hair and stripped away our all that they were and those who survived are still so broken and scared
Spirit Hearts all alone. Spirit hearts, need a home. Spirit hearts left to roam. Spirit hearts, bring them home
Many years have passed since the last of those places were closed How many children never came home, well, nobody knows Yet by all accounts there were several thousand children who died, and the churches and governments are now admitting how much they had lied
And so, we go on searching at the places where they can be found to rescue little hearts that were buried in unholy ground Gathering them up from the places where they were unknown Weeping as we honor all these babies that we’re bringing home.
Spirit Hearts all alone. Spirit hearts, need a home. Spirit hearts left to roam. Spirit hearts, bring them home
Spirit hearts, coming home
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7. |
How Far
05:18
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How Far
Mark Bishop Evans
How far do we go from here? How far, are we very near?
How far, can you make it clear, still my fear, how far?
How old do we have to be? How old before we see
How old are the giant trees, falling leaves, how far?
Chorus
So pass the years it seems. Soiled by man’s lofty dreams
The earth she has healed the sores left before evermore
The fields how they once were green, the beast can you hear it scream
As man still pursues his dreams, plans and schemes how far
Inst:
How long will the concrete crawl how long for the trees so tall
This world she has taken all, hear her call how far
Chorus
What’s left when the earth has died? What’s left but man’s greed and pride
We foiled all the earth has tried, pushed aside how far
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8. |
Bitter Wind
04:30
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Bitter Wind
© 2020 Words and Music by Mark Bishop Evans
Chorus
It’s a dark cloud that brings the rain, a bitter wind that brings the pain.
And it makes our children moan and grieve and kneel and cry we cannot breathe.
It’s a cruel storm that brings the death, a bitter wind that steals the breath.
Gone the children’s joy and laughter. Gone the lives, that should have mattered.
Verse 1
Cold upon the ground lies the body of a Mother’s son.
Police all lie and say that he pointed at them with a gun.
That young man had to die alone,
when his only crime was “walking home”.
And no matter what they say, you know he’s not the only one
Chorus
Verse 2
Standing in the flames of a nation torn by hate and blame,
where those who should protect are the authors of the greatest pain.
You can take a bullet in your back,
when your only crime is “driving black”.
And half of us refuse to call it by its proper name.
Chorus
Bridge
All the pain and rage have been locked up in a cage
and left beneath the boiling sun.
Open up your eyes and you won’t be so surprised
At the revolution when it comes
Chorus
Ending, And it’s a dark cloud, a bitter wind, and it’s a cruel storm, a bitter wind
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9. |
If I Could Not Recall
04:34
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If I Could Not Recall – Mark Bishop Evans
Verse 1
If I could not recall the moon that spied on love warm nights in June
Or remember lovely visions fair of Summer sun on golden hair
Or by some wild mis-stroke of luck should I forget the tender touch
Then how can I face each new dawn and find the will to carry on
Why should I exist at all and long for things… I could not recall
Verse 2
If I could not recall blue eyes or picture still the starry skies
Bring to mind the joy of love, way too much, or not enough
If those precious memories fade or I misplace the feelings made
Then where’s the reason left for life, why endure the pain and strife
How long life if I spent it all longing for things… I could not recall
Chorus
If I could not recall, the reasons for it all, why should I exist… for only this?
Verse 3
If I could not recall the pain the same mistakes I’d make again
Same old questions never asked, futures lost to forgotten pasts
If I could not recall my years, all the sperate joys and tears
Then what is there within this shell with no old scars or tales to tell
Who am I then after all, who would know… if I could not recall
Chorus
If I could not recall, the reasons for it all, why should I exist… for only this?
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10. |
No Breathing Space
04:30
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No Breathing Space – Mark Bishop Evans 8721
Echoing wham from a dumpster-lid slam, ricochet down a dark alley
Rain gutter ran with the sap of a man, like red rivers flow thru the valley
Mournful refrain from a western bound train drifts thru the dark clinging mist
Silhouettes claim every part of the flame while their dark shadows flicker and twist
An unwanted child from a woman beguiled grows distorted by pain and disgrace
Street scum get piled on these humans defiled and beauty has no breathing space
Night creatures prowl ‘neath a moon-tinted cowl, alert to each movement and sound
Alley-cats howl in a can rank and foul, interrupted while making their rounds
Instrumental
Cop-rubber squeals when hot on the heels of a suspect for grand-auto-theft
Blood clots congeal on a blade of bright steel as a victim lies curled in cold death
An unwanted child from a woman beguiled grows distorted by pain and disgrace
Street scum get piled on these humans defiled and beauty has no breathing space
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11. |
The Seeds of Today
05:19
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The Seeds of Today – Mark Bishop Evans 2019
All of the flowers of all the tomorrows are held in the seeds of today
All of the schemers have moments they borrow without much intent to repay
All of the highways in all new directions are open to all who would go
All of the travelers have different perceptions but still they must walk the same roads
All of the greedy who mortgage the future pretend to be deaf to the sound
Of regular people, the peasants and paupers forced to give ever more ground
And all of those moments define our existence yet fade in the blink of an eye
As pillars of power compose the resistance to anything money can’t buy
We are all reflections of the colors chosen yesterday
And we are choosing colors for the future in all that they say
Everyone’s a child of the past
And the parents of a future forecast
For all the tomorrows are held in the seeds of today
All of the rivers are clogged by the refuse from all our disposable lives
While all of the towers continue to spew ooze corrupting the earth and the skies
All of the oceans are gradually rising to someday consume all the land
If we can’t accomplish the task of deciding perhaps, we deserved to be damned
All of the soldiers with all of their medals lie buried or waiting to die
While all of the kitchens with all of their kettles hide widows too lonely to cry
All of the children inherit our sorrows and then must survive what we’ve made
For all of the flowers of all the tomorrows are held in the seeds of today
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Mark Bishop Evans Phoenix, Arizona
Mark grew up in California where his major musical influences were Gordon Lightfoot, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon and pretty much any folk, folk rock or beach music. He has a way with words and melodies, bringing them together in pleasant and poignant combinations. His music is an intriguing blend of Folk, folk rock and ballads, lyrically rich in emotional content and melodically comfortable. ... more
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