I’m here in the beautiful city of Hot Springs, but so far it’s been almost totally work. The pace rages from pitifully slow with nothing to do at my table to a mad, frantic pace, talking constantly to those who pass by my table. I’ll post some photos of my trip soon.
Here are the lyrics for a new song I’ve written. They were inspired by the books I read about Townes Van Zandt, To Live’s to Fly and A Deeper Blue.
“Where Are the Songs?” by Rickey Pittman
Where are the minstrels,
The Masters of pain and rhyme,
Who created poems of magic
For the memories of time?
The ghosts of the Old Quarter
Now gather somewhere I know,
To drink and joke and cut up some,
When did they decide to go?
Singing for the sake of the song,
For the women who broke their hearts,
For the darkness they felt inside,
Breaking them apart.
It wasn’t about the money,
Certainly not the fame,
Only the highs and the music,
Dreams others called insane.
The songs of Americana
May have to start over again
With new places and new crowds,
New melodies and plans.
The road may lead to Nashville,
Or to Houston or LA
But it will start with the songs inside,
And will always be that way.
Where are the songs I want to write?
What muse will send them in the night?
Where are the songs that I need to sing,
Where are the songs?
They’re living in my dreams.