ROCK THE BIG BOAT
Look what we face; there's no time to waste;
This ain't a case we can delay or appeal.
There's still hope ~ if we rock the big boat.
Look at this mess, there's no time to rest.
This ain't a test, people, it's the real deal.
Grab the wheel - help us rock the big boat.
Look at the weather, it's now or never.
I think we better get together real fast.
The die is cast - we better rock the big boat. (4X)
Sometimes you got to go and just say no to the madness and insanity.
Join the 'us' who raise a fuss, if you want to be free, really want to be free,
Look at the bandits plunder the planet,
How can you stand it, don't it make you mad?
You know we've been had - we better rock the big boat.
Look what's been won with war and with guns,
All it's done is bring on more hate.
It's getting late -we better rock the big boat.
Look at the hunger, lives torn asunder,
Don't it make you wonder if it's time to take a stand?
Join the band - help us rock the big boat. (4X)
Words & Music by: C Michael Stout, January, 2005
Who Killed The WELLSTONES ?
In a beat-up bus with hand-made signs
Stirring up dust in a dangerous time.
Takin' on oil kings and power lines,
Singin' the causes of the left behind.
From the family farm to the iron ore range
Paul and Sheila took out a message of change.
Going nose to nose with the corporate beast,
Warriors for justice and peace...
They were a team, foot soldiers for our dreams.
Such a beautiful thing, a story we all should tell -
Who killed the Wellstones, such a beautiful team,
Paul and Sheila Wellstone, defenders of our dream ?
In the towers of power, on the Senate floor,
Paul stood alone against the rush to war.
Sheila was a coal miner's daughter who used
Her voice for the victims of domestic abuse.
Fendin' for the farmers, the workers and the poor,
Defendin' mother earth from the corporate whores.
Paul might have been elected, the one in the news
But Sheila could have stepped in his shoes -
Up against the odds, and the big money gods,
For the underdogs, ringing the have-not's bell - [Chorus]- 2X
They said it was the fog and freezing rain,
A Pilot’s malfunction on the plane.
A tragic accident, senseless death,
A coincidence just like all the rest.
But don't you think it's strange it's always the lead horse,
The ones who can tip the balance of force.
Couldn't get 'em with poison, a bomb along the road,
Or the Lobby man's gold.
They were a team, wrestlers for our dreams.
It really does seem an investigation should be held - [Chorus]- Repeated
Words and Music by: C. Michael Stout, February, 2005
WHEN THE HEYDAY WAS HERE
In the twilight of a moment, in a neon time gone,
When fire sparks were stars, smoke and dust were the dawn;
When the streets were clogged with people, and the jobs were plenty.
Reckless and abandoned, we were standin' brave and tall,
Mesmerized by the lies that said we'd never fall,
And that our plates and expectations would never be empty.
Outside the iron walls of the pewter citadel,
Marching through the halls, our hearts and ranks would swell,
As we sang about ideas we thought would always be spoken.
Standing like a trump card in a game as real as life;
Running with the vanguard who thought they’d never die,
And that the spirit and the oneness of our circle could never be broken.
And the tribes came together back then,
When the bottom rose up to the brim,
And the way forward was so crystal clear...
They can never take back what we had;
All the struggles, the good and the bad;
The good times and troubles, happy and sad - WHEN THE HEYDAY WAS HERE.
You talk about gangs, we really had one.
We flew every color there was under the sun.
When one of us was messed with, the others were right by their side.
Our voices and our visions cracked the silence of deceit;
Our pens broke traditions so the powerless could speak
Unholy truths that for so long had to run away and hide.
And though time shattered our dream,
And the pendulum certainly did swing
Back to before the red skies appeared...
They can never take back what we gave;
Or cover up the roads that we paved;
Or bury the history we made- WHEN THE HEYDAY WAS HERE.
We were feeling our oats, rocking their boats,
Shaking the foundations unheard.
And after every battle, we'd party and laugh,
Drinkin' and smokin' at the bash.
Our camaraderie was more than just words.
You know some say it was a waste of time, that we barely made a dent;
That we lost the war when the closed the doors, and we were so naive and innocent.
That the wheels of age had simply turned the page once again.
But as I stare out at the ashes of the ruins of the past;
Back through the clashes before the die was cast;
When democracy from below seemed like more than a means to an end.
And though power eluded our reach, when the floor gave way underneath;
Our pictures might be buried for years...
They can never retract what we meant.
They can never hide the places we went,
Or smother the message we sent - WHEN THE HEYDAY WAS HERE.
Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, February, 1992
GALLO AND MIGUEL
Sent away to a boarding school of pain,
Under the Benedictine order of guilt, fear and shame.
Me and my brother, Steve, in a far away move,
With the Illinois rough boys with something to prove.
Where corn was king and the sting of the prefects ruled.
They shaved my head, swore they'd straighten me out,
Cage the wild spirit that was raging all about.
It didn't take long to step on some toes;
Land me in the doghouse where involuntary solitary grows, and eats at your soul.
Gallo was from Aruba, Miguel from old Mexico.
Third Worlders in the land of the snow white show.
Un-phased by the gringos, so cool and multi-lingual,
No one touched their space even when they had to mingle;
Two Latin brothers apart from the others in that jungle.
Like a godsend they took me under their wing;
Made me a friend, helped me be a human being.
Speaking dirty Spanish, blowing smoke rings,
Taught me common sense, how to fence from the heart -
Gallo and Miguel, you broke the choke hold of the jingo man's spell.
Gallo and Miguel, fellow mates at the gates tempting fates to rebel - Gallo and Miguel.
At mid-term when less than half of my sentence remained,
War broke out between the border rats and day dog gangs.
This day dog, Beckerini, way bigger than me,
Called me out to battle in a bathroom arena meet.
The sell-out crowd was loud predicting my defeat.
But on the night before the fight Gallo taught me self-defense;
The element of surprise, how to shake his confidence.
The fight was won before it begun, and Father Hugh Crowe came and took me to my penance - [CHORUS]
Decades later when I think about the places I've been,
The locations and relations that made me what I am.
When character is formed, fears overcome;
The spirit is born, the soul unstrung.
Back to the time when the mind first awakes and finds freedom.
There they were, those two amigos of mind;
Human bridges on the ridges of a troubled time.
Lights in the nights of an early circle of hell,
I'd have never made it with this story to tell without - Gallo and Miguel... [CHOR US]
Words and Music by: C. Michael Stout, January 2005,
DO IT, BUT DO IT WITH LOVE
Stand your ground;
Push out your bounds;
Stare the devil down -
Just do it with love. Do it, but do it with love.
Rock and roll and yell;
Raise a little hell;
Rise up and rebel -
Just do it with love. Do it, but do it with love.
Take out the flaws;
Pass a bunch of laws;
Take up your cause -
Just do it with love. Do it, but do it with love.
Don't be the one
Has always has to become just like the ones you oppose.
In your mind
It's a fine line you'll find;
But in your soul, the only thing that grows
Is the rhythm and flows of love !
Let your colors swirl;
Let your banner unfurl;
Keep on changing the world -
Just do it with love. Do it, but do it with love.
Stir up the dust;
Raise a holler and fuss;
Struggle as you must -
Just do it with love. Do it, but do it with love.
Don't be first or last when the die gets cast;
Don't let the past suck you back in, again.
Don't wish or wait at the gates of your fate.
'Cause in the end, when all is said and done, my friend,
The only real win is with love.
Let it rise up above.
Tell 'em what you're thinkin' of
And do it with love Do it, but do it with love. Do it, but do it with love.
I'm Not talkin' about 'in the name of; I'm talkin' about love.
Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, September, 2000
HEROES OF HISTORY
Here’s to all the people -
Who do all the work, but never get recognized.
You never grab no headlines;
your name is never memorized.
I’ll remember you,-.put you in my heart; keep you close to me.
I’ll sing this song for you; and tell the world the part that you played in history
And here’s to ‘all the thinkers -
Who’s thoughts we get from someplace else.
The ghost writers and singers,
Whose songs are sung for somebody else’s wealth.
Though you’re behind the scenes; faceless in the dark, lost in sanity.
I’11 use every means, to show the world the mark that you made in history!
And here's to all the people -
Who stand up and speak for what is right.
Who in the face of fear and intimidation,
Shine like a beacon light.
I’ll toot your horn for you; stake your claim in song, unfold your mystery.
I’11 give credit where it’s due; and I’ll show where you belong on the chains of history !
And here’s to all the freedom fighters,
Whose love is etched in blood;
Whose deeds and contributions,
Are buried in every nation's mud.
I'll drink a toast to you; celebrate the love and the life you gave to me.
I'll brag the boast for you; and I'll tell the stories of the heroes of our history.
And here's to all the friends
I never got a chance to thank properly;
You know you showed me something special
In my hour of need.
I know I never write; rarely stop to call; forget to think of you.
So let me sing this song tonight; and let me thank you all for the love
you gave to me - for the love you give to me.
Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, 1988
CAPTAIN SEAN
Captain Sean was a working man, Steamfitter by trade.
A young apprentice in the prime of his time, on the way to self-made.
On a journey like his daddy before; his cousin, John Rogers, by his side;
With no idea of the future in store, his sights on the great divide.
He was just another man in a land of hopes and dreams,
With his work gloves and boots, long sleeve denim shirt and blue jeans.
Full of promise and hope, he got on the boat, he was feelin' like one of a team,
He was ready to go - Captain Sean did row.
On just the third day on the job, a gas leak in a middle school,
A wall of flames shootin' out of a valve; they lacked the proper safety tool.
With his skin on fire as time stood still, he screamed with all his breath.
He bolted for the door just ahead of the kill, one exhale from his death.
The only thing he remembers is the screams from John Rogers inside.
At the time he didn't know his role model and cousin had died.
They put him in ice and doused the flames; the medics and ambulance came.
Some were prayin' as they - took Captain Sean away.
In the burn unit he could smell his own flesh, as they scrambled to save his life.
His eyes swelled shut, the pain drivin' him nuts, they read him his 'last rites.'
For eight long weeks he defied the odds, cheatin' death at every turn.
When he saw his face he cursed his God, his body so badly burned.
With no emotion left for the death that was swirling around;
He thought it was the end as his world came crashing down.
But then a nurse said "Sean, you should've been dead; it's a miracle you're still around.
"The struggle's just begun." - So Captain Sean moved on.
With his freedom of choices taken away, his future looked a wreck.
Inside a mask, with no identity or past, he lost all his self-respect.
He left his home and city, consumed in self-pity; a boulder on his shoulders sat;
A half a million miles of drinkin' and drugs, fightin' anyone his eyes met.
He took his family and his friends on a ride through his own little hell.
Nothing gave him comfort or refuge from the emptiness he felt.
Then one day as he studied away and stared at the cards he was dealt
The nightmare broke - Captain Sean awoke.
It was late that night in the flash of a light when his life took a different track.
The person in the mirror got a whole lot clearer, and said "it's time to give something back."
Without a word spoken, the door flew open; he saw something bigger than him.
From deep in his heart he felt like the parts had all come together again.
Underneath the fear, the veneer of his damaged skin,
He saw the duty and the beauty that was truly inside of him.
Then all the nitty-gritty of his self-imposed pity disappeared in the wind
And just like that - Captain Sean was back !
These days Captain Sean works and spends his time showing others where he went.
Telling the story with all the pain and the glory, the journey of his accident.
Proud to be alive, and how he survived and rose from the clutches of hell.
If he can just save one from the injury gun, he knows that he's done well.
Talkin' up the union and the history of the victories it's won;
Proud to be a Steamfitter, not a quitter in the battles to come;
One of the hard luck cases, he wouldn't trade place with you or me or anyone.
And that's a fact - Captain Sean is back !
Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, September, 2004
MOMMA BEAR
Momma Bear, you are there like the morning star.
Momma Bear, always where the forgotten are.
Giving courage and assisting
The ones who were resisting the whirlwinds of war that blowed.
You and them were equals in the sequels out on freedom road.
With a body so frail
Like heroes of old.
Momma Bear, you are there like an angel from above.
Momma Bear, giving shelter with your coat of love.
You came around
When the jobs left town to help the dislocated families;
A ray of hope, a safety rope, a life-boat in a turbulent sea.
Always sitting there and knitting,
Never giving up or quitting on the workers and retirees, you live in solidarity.
Momma Bear, always there whenever justice calls.
Momma Bear, you dare to care inside the "Super-Max" walls.
Not afraid to fight
For the dignity and rights of those they locked up and threw away the key.
Defending and standing with those abandoned by society.
Unobtrusive but protective,
A voice for the collective goodness and humanity, that sets us free.
Ooh compenera to the poor and the most in need,
Compenera to the children in her family.
Hand in hand with your 'Scrapper man,' You plant your holy seed, yes indeed.
Momma Bear, so aware of the oneness in us.
Momma Bear, you share your strength and your gentleness.
Momma Bear, there like a breath of fresh air.
Momma Bear..Momma Bear...Momma Bear.
Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, March, 2005
DOWN AT THE BOTTOM (We Are the Working Class)
Behind the haze and blaze,
All the claims of happy days,
Suburban shopping mall maze
Of rank and file consumer craze,
Inside the endless rage,
On a page with only cages and fence.
'Neath the frenzy of consumption,
Out of reach of extreme unction,
Or the survival line junction;
Where the empty-handed function,
Devoid of all assumption,
Or presumption or pretense of common sense.
Trapped inside the beast,
It's either famine or feast.
And for the have-nots, at least,
Any peace has long deceased from present tense.
Caught up in the dross
Of a slow-motion holocaust;
Just profit or loss,
Or just the cost of doing business so immense.
Underneath below,
Where the cameras never go;
Beyond the 'dog and pony' show
Froze in the throes that pose as current events.
Greetings from the masses,
Every country's under classes.
The ones their progress always passes. Look close, you can spot 'em -
The stratum still forgotten at the bottom we're the working class
At this stage of civilization,
in the age of globalization,
With its high-tech fascination,
And advertising manipulation
Lulls us to sleep in isolation,
while they plunder every nation,
With their brutal exploitation,
Stock market speculation,
And environmental degradation
Buried on the walls
Of the Wal-Marts and shopping malls;
Stalled in the thralls
And the pitfalls of the world economy.
Strapped inside the trap
Of an expanding wage gap,
Left without a map
inside the lap and endless sea of poverty.
Words & Music by: C. Michael Stout, September, 2000