Today I shot a video that makes me look like I did when I sang in a punk band somewhere in a darkened club. I guess it's not called singing, because its more like it's emoting, and it's somehow bleeding volumes of the pain, that then I felt. Below are those same lyrics from the song that I was singing, and soon on my music website, you can find the film and sounds. But for now, my new friend Gina, who lives somewhere in New Jersey, now has a friend from decades before she was ever born. Her mother and her father, thanked me for the words I sent her, and said she was very happy meeting me, somehow, as well. I leave these couplets here, to thank again, her parents, and to remind that music is never something that should limit thought. It should be a free expression, whether punk or folk or gospel, this atheist, you know well, is never talking gods. Gina, I'm back here writing, and I promise to update the pages, you have bookmarked, and someday, I may meet you as well.
But for now, we'll share the music, and thanks for the picture of me, that you drew for me this morning, it makes me look like an elf. So this elf will grant your wish, and a new song I have written, about you, just a first grader, you may some day see yourself. In my words, and in your own, I will read when I'm near gone, to remind me that music is as timeless as the stars. Some words are considered bawdy, and some may take opposition, that I write them here so freely, without warning from some tag. I don't believe that feelings deserve any suffocation, by government or churcher's, nor even from myself. Thanks again, miss Gina, and your parents, Ted and Toni. I hope that you get an A when you go to Show and Tell.
(er, and tell your teacher, the FONT MiX up IS intentional and see what s/he can read into that.)
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HEard InSide Your HEad.
(c) 2012 Cathe B. Jones (the RatmanDo Band)
he said, “how many women make a living playing music?”
I said, “I’m pretty sure it’s not as many as the men, but,
“I am not willing to make money from my heart’s blood.
“I’d rather be the one who’s heard inside your head.”
he grunted, ”Why do you think you’d be the one who’d change the visions
“that have been in there from birth until I’m dead?”
I smiled slowly because I knew that it had happened
And there’s no turning back from tattooing that blend.
Billions of people have been and yet to come here
Billions of songs are written, words invented, and
We only hear about the ones who’ve made some money
In my life I’d like to hear all the rest instead.
In my life I’d like to hear what’s heard inside your head.
I’d like to make some music that’s heard inside your head.
He said, “you’re too old, and too fat to be given any notice’
I said, “I figured that my figure isn’t what I’d sing, no.
“I figure you can see me with your heart instead. But,
“If you’re thinking music is just about my look then,
“It’s time to educate you if I can, but then again.
“You’re probably too shallow to think about the meaning.
“You’re probably too unfeeling to respond to sound.”
He gave me a tip of his hat, as if it was to tell me.
I’d figured out what he was and there wasn’t any ground.
they asked how do expect to be heard by someone
someone, he expects, wouldn’t take the time but
“I just want to express, it’s not for the masses,
“but if they want to I’m just glad to get what I get.”
He nodded as he walked, and he smirked.
“You don’t get that you aren’t worth the time.
No one wants to listen and no one will try, to.”
I just want them to sing along. Sing that along to me.
Billions of people have been and yet to come here
Billions of songs are written, words invented, and
We only hear about the ones who’ve made some money
In my life I’d like to hear all the rest instead.
In my life I’d like to hear what’s heard inside your head.
I’d like to make some music that’s heard inside your head.
(dedicated to 8 year old Gina Gavachucci, or some name close to that.. she rox)
