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I hardly ever go out when I'm home.

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I tell her these things when I come home

So much
Has been taken for the quest of something original

Time squeezes to something interesting
Something original

I am carried away

I look out this glass window
Seeing the sea

Farther blue nearer me is brownish
The river is flooded the rain poured wildly in the mountain

A blue green car passes by below
A woman with a basket of something
(I cannot see clearly)
Holds her boy like a twig of a tree

The wind must be blowing hard
There could be typhoon

I see these happening, I am from here. I live here.


I tell her these things when I come home

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When I Get Home

Whoa-ho, whoa-ho,
I got a whole lot of things to tell her,
When i get home.
Come on, out of my way,
'cause i'm gonna see my baby today,
I've got a whole lot of things i've gotta say
To her.
Whoa-ho, whoa-ho,
I got a whole lot of things to tell her,
When i get home.
Come on if you please,
I've got no time for trivialities,
I've got a girl who's waiting home for me tonight.
Whoa-ho, whoa-ho,
I got a whole lot of things to tell her,
When i get home.
When i'm getting home tonight, i'm gonna
Hold her tight.
I'm gonna love her till the cows come home,
I bet i'll love her more,
Till i walk out that door
Again.
Come on, let me through,
I've got so many things, i've got to do,
I've got no business being here with you
This way.
Whoa-ho, whoa-ho,
I've got a whole lot of things to tell her
When i get home - yeah.

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Love Her All I Can

I remember the times I was lonely without her
Now shes mine and I spend my times dreamin about her
Love her all I can and try to understand
The things that make her glad
The things that make her sad
Im a lucky guy, I hardly ever cry
And when the world looks bad
Shes never ever sad
Shes so easy to please and it doesnt take money, no, no
We can have a good time when the skies arent sunny
Ah, I love her all I can and try to understand
The things that make her glad
The things that make her sad
Im a lucky guy, I hardly ever cry
And when the world looks bad
Shes never ever sad
Whoo
I remember the times I was lonely without her
Now shes mine and I spend my time dreamin about her
I love her all I can and try to understand
The things that make her glad
The things that make her sad
Im a lucky guy, I hardly ever cry
And when the world looks bad
Shes never ever sad

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When You Come Home

All will be right when you come home, dear lad,
But oh, 'tis long of coming that you are!
Everything's wrong with all the world and sad;
There are so many hurt in this long war,
So many missing, who will never come,
Lying out in the rain and in the cold.
I shall forget it all when you come home,
I shall forget the lonesome things they told.

There's something, something sad, that troubles me.
Beats like the rain upon my frightened heart;
A tale about a girl, the thing might be,
Whispered in corners, secret and apart
How he was killed and how she never knew
Because God put a small cloud on her mind,
And how she waited the black winters through
And the wet summers; surely God was kind!

I took a daisy from the garden-bed
And plucked the petals, one by one, to tell
When I and my true lover should be wed,
This year: Next year: Never: the petals fell
And stopped at Never. But it could not guess,
The foolish daisy, what true love I had.
I turned from daisies and I plucked heartsease
To rest my heart on and be safe and glad.

Everything's wrong, Love, since you went away,
Such a queer world when all the boys are gone,
And there is no one left but old and grey,
Women and children, frightened and alone.
Sometimes the tale is crying at my heart
Of that poor girl. Maybe 'twas but a dream.
When you come home the shadows will depart,
The lonesome dreams die off in morning gleam.

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I Was Young When I Left Home

Written by Bob Dylan
Recorded on the Minnesota Hotel Tape (Dec 22, 1961)
Tabbed by Eyolf strem
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Open G tuning (DGdgbd')
G 000000
G' 000430
D 000210
C 002010
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sorta made it up on a train. Huh, oh I'm here. This must be good for somebody, this sad song. I know it's good for somebody. If it ain't for me, it's good for somebody. I just talked about it, huh huh.
G
I was young when I left home
G' D C
and I been a-rambling 'round.
D
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
G G' D C
To my home, lord to my home.
D G
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
It was just the other day,
I was bringing home my pay
when I met an old friend I used to know.
Said your mother's dead and gone,
baby sister's all gone wrong
and your daddy needs you home right away.
Not a shirt on my back,
not a penny on my name.
But I can't go home thisaway.
Thisaway, lord lord lord.
And I can't go home thisaway.
If you miss the train I'm on,
count the days I'm gone.
You will hear that whistle blow a hundred miles.
Hundred miles, honey baby, lord lord lord,
and you'll hear that whistle blow a hundred miles.
I'm playing on a track,
ma would come and whoop me back
on them trussels down by old Jim McKay's.
When I pay the debt I owe to the commissary store,
I will pawn my watch and chain and go home.
Go home, lord lord lord.
I will pawn my watch and chain and go home.
Used to tell ma sometimes
when I see them riding blind,
gonna make me a home out in the wind.
In the wind, lord in the wind.
Make me a home out in the wind.
I don't like it in the wind,
I go back home again,
but I can't go home thisaway.
Thisaway, lord lord lord,
and I can't go home thisaway.
I was young when I left home
and I been all rambling 'round.
And I never wrote a letter to my home.
To my home lord lord lord.
And I never wrote a letter to my home.

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When You Get Home, Remember Me

Lieutenant De Long, commanding the Jeannette Artic
Expedition, having seen his vessel crushed by the ice,
undertook a perilous journey through the ice and snow
toward the coast of Siberia. With a part of his command
he finally reached the wilderness near the mouth of the
River Lena. Disabled by sickness, hunger and cold, the
little band was compelled to halt, while two of their
number went forward. When the pathetic parting was over,
and after the two seaman had begun their battle with the
snowdrifts, they heard a call, and on turning, recognized
the voice of one of their officers feebly shouting: "When
you get to New York, remember me!" From that group of
brave men, these were the last words that ever reached
human ears.


Starving beside the frozen Lena!
Perishing in a snow blockade!
From a lone group of shipwrecked seamen
Two are sent forth to seek for aid.
'Tis a sad, a solemn parting;
Life or death! who can foresee?
Hark! on the wind floats this last message:
"When you get home, remember me!"

Gallant and brave! together clinging,
True to the last! with but this plea;
Still in our ears its words are ringing,
"When you get home, remember me!"

Ready to sink, yet persevering,
Southward and helpward toil the twain;
Close in the rear an Artic winter
Binding the land with icy chain.
Weary wait the suff'ring comrades;
Help they ask on bended knee;
But to their friends come these words only:
"When you get home, remember me!"

Succor at last! the twain find helpers;
Shrieks the fierce gale, "Too late! too late!"
Valiant De Long and brave companions,
Manfully, calmly meet their fate.
One by one, they lie down dying;
All obey that stern decree---
Last on their lips this plaintive whisper:
"When you get home, remember me!"

Starving beside the frozen Lena!
Perishing in a snow blockade!
Had we but known their need, what thousands
Would have rejoiced to render aid!
There was want, while here abundance;
Naught had they, while plenty we.
Shall we not heed their last entreaty:
"When you get home, remember me!"

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Patrick White

You Don't Do Crack Or Speed

You don’t do crack or speed or heroin;
you’re not lifting the moon like an eyelid
to find a new place to shoot,
but you’re boiling your heart in a spoon,
you’re thawing the six rocks of your emotions,
boiling away the seven oceans
that will get you through the night
as if you were another sign of global warming.
And now you’re weeping and raging in my living room,
violently shapeshifting through your withdrawal
like an exorcism gone wrong
because the latest hot lover
you got hooked on like a dealer
proved to be a snakeoil salesman in paradise
who convinced you the scales of your daring
would turn into feathers
and your falling take flight.
Not everybody who jumps from heaven makes hell;
for example, your heart there on that rock
you’re kicking around at your feet
like the skull of the world,
isn’t that the sun on your horizon
pouring out of its broken shell like the yoke
of another tragic casualty of spring
fallen like Icarus from the embryonic wax
of your exaggerated wingspan?
Love is not a form of substance abuse
and Im not the local, walk-in rehab centre
you can duck into anytime
you’ve spent your last dime like a bullet
on a dealer that’s not reloading,
but pain is pain and I can feel yours
chaining itself to all your emergency doors
so that no one could ever get out
when you go hunting for yourself
like a contract you’ve taken out on a highschool.
But it isn’t the object of your longing,
the focus of the star, the shining
that you’re addicted to
like all those placebos and soothers
you keep calling boyfriends,
faking you’re better
everytime you take one:
you’re addicted to addiction.
You’re addicted to the promise you mean to keep.
And you can keep on
taking your clothes off like Christmas
and suffering the usual unwrapping depressions,
but you’re addicted to being a gift
that was meant for someone else
and it’s never your name that follows
the to or the from on the label
when you give yourself to Santa Claus
like a pimp in sable
and he addicts you to the starburn above the stable
that keeps making an ass of you
when the wise men take back their gifts.
So here you are again
before the perilous depths
of these precipitous cliffs
trashing your afflictions like female newborns
that were born of all that genetic junkmail
you once opened frantically like a loveletter
that wasn’t addressed to you
on the rocky threshold of the shore below
that looks up at you like the sickle of a smile
that reaps what you’ve sown,
but I know what you’ve always known:
that you’re addicted
to being unmarrowed by the moon
when the hummingbird who sipped honey
like gold from a cold stone
finds herself out of money and alone.
I can help you out with the cash flow
and though I know Im not your drug of choice
measure my feelings out like methadone to ease the abyss,
but if you want my advice,
being addicted to addiction
is like trying to step into your own bloodstream twice
or drowning while diving for pearls
that have already risen like the full moon
and crossed you off the calendar
like the X that sucks the poison from the kiss.
Everyone longs for a night, a face, a space
they knew once even if just for the glance of a moment
when joy spiked the wine
and what was singularly human
rushed like a flashflood through the valleys
of the universally divine
and rain that had fallen like tears for years
on an ocean of sorrows
with no hope of flowers
suddenly bloomed like the moon’s corals
in the meadows of a mystic sea
and everything that could possibly be, was.
I knew that moment, for instance, once with you
but the inconceivable eventually
flows down into the believable
like stars into mountain streams
and we end up panning for the irretrievable
like a nugget of night
we lost in the moonbeams,
and impeaching each other
like credible constellations
that can’t shine out of the box,
we check the locks on the mine
and go our separate ways
like abused metals,
mutants of gold and lead
that couldn’t turn the one into the another
once the alchemy wore off
and the glass alembic
of another transformative cocoon
was shattered by the harvest stone
of an unphilosophical moon
and the pain was a change of species.
And you’re still the anti-muse of the butterfly effect
that inspires my chaos theory
of post-deconstructive poetry
when I strike one planet against another
like your heart against mine
looking for a spark
that might keep the universe warm for another night
but I know I can’t light the same fire again
or shoot the moon like silver
into the same exhausted vein
now all that matters is the next homeless hit
and this infinite choice of elixirs
that don’t quite do it
whenever I go looking for my voice
like a small word
in the ashes of a burning bush
or that bird of your phoenix heart
that once sang in me like you
and fell like an autumn cradle from the lullaby tree
that still calls to me sometimes
and still keeps me up
like the ghost of an albatross
wailing off the coast of a lost art
wounded like the black sail
of a loveletter on an unlucky wind.
But that doesn’t mean
I wait for you like a widower on the moon
for the last lifeboat that overturned in space
when the seas evaporated like the eyes in your face.
Im not rummaging through my heart
like a medicine chest
for the three bells of the last all’s well
I can crush like the moon into a paste when I cry.
Im not flagging my heart like a fit
sucking up the tranquil shadows
of the moons’s dead oceans
as if I could bind your heart again to me like a barrel,
a clown in a shipwreck he’s wearing for pants,
and go over your falls again as I once did
in a Niagara of love potions.
We’ve had that dance
and the music we heard in each other
was wine unique as night
to the glass that contained it like a body,
and I don’t need to seek again
in these lotions of rain that fall gently now
what was so wholly and incommensurately once
that in every dropp of water I feel you like the sea.
A truly enlightened junkie
only needs to hit once
and it’s good for a lifetime
so there’s never really any chance
of coming down from the people we’ve loved
who poured the stars into our abandoned wells
like a night wine that shunned the sun
so why all this talk about kites
that caught fire and crashed
and the new space shuttles
you keep wheeling up to your gantry
like all these love affairs you keep trying to launch
like a rave on ecstasy,
trying to swim with the stars
when you’re already flying
with the whole of creation
like the night sea of a black rose
that can only be seen
in the depths of its darkness
with eyes of wine
that have shed their petals and waves
like a sky that has let go of its lifeline?

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When He Comes Home

When he comes home
It is a different history

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When Thou must Home to Shades of Underground

When thou must home to shades of underground,
And there arriv'd, a new admired guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
To hear the stories of thy finish'd love
From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;


Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,
Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,
And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake:
When thou hast told these honours done to thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me.

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When She Comes Home

When she comes home again! A thousand ways
I fashion, to myself, the tenderness
Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble--yes;
And touch her, as when first in the old days
I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise
Mine eyes, such was my faint heart's sweet distress.
Then silence: And the perfume of her dress:
The room will sway a little, and a haze
Cloy eyesight--soulsight, even--for a space:
And tears--yes; and the ache here in the throat,
To know that I so ill deserve the place
Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note
I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face
Again is hidden in the old embrace.

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When I Came Home This Morning

Writers: leo sayer & david courtney
When I came home this morning
I got your letter and what it said
I didnt understand
You told me it was over -- au revoir -- see you again sometime
I didnt understand
And overleaf you tell me that you love me...
Meet me on the corner
The usual time -- the usual place
I will be there
Meet me on the corner
Ill see you coming -- then Ill be sure
Sure youll be there
Oh and I wanna tell you that I love you...
I see your face -- I see the night
I love you -- I love you
And deep in my sleep I see your eyes
I love you -- I love you
I stood on the corner
All the cars went sweeping by
Did somebody call me -- no there was no one there
Well Ill go on waiting -- perhaps tomorrow
Another day -- I will be there
Oh and I wanna tell you that I love you...

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When I Come Home To You

(ransford)
Im telling you girl
That Im coming home to you
I hate to say this
But I know youve been untrue
Just stop your foolin
Come on and hold me
When I come home to you
When I come home to you
Its plain to see love
Isnt something new to you
You couldnt be loved
Cause youve never known the truth
About the lies
You tell to me
When I come home to you
When I come home to you
Comin home isnt good for me
I know
But the way that you look at me
I know
That Ive got to come on home
And take you in my arms
Break
Comin home isnt good for me
I know
But the way that you look at me
I know
That Ive got to come on home
And take you in my arms
Im telling you girl
That Im coming home to you
I hate to say this
But I know youve been untrue
Just stop your foolin
Come on and hold me
When I come home to you
Yeh
When I come home to you
Woa wo
When I come home to you

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Home Again To You

Dont throw it all away
Hear what Ive gotta say
Because youre always on my mind
Ive got an eye on you
And only you will do
And I dont wanna waste my time
So wont you hear my out
Because its all about when
I come home again to you
Youre such a little child
Youre gonna drive me wild
As I just dont know what to say
I got an eye on you
And only you will do
And I dont wanna get in your play
Hesitate, because I cannot wait
Till I come home again to you
You make me feel so old
Just like I have been told
Because its always up to you
Oh baby, hear me out
Ive done all my time
And I dont wanna be misused
So please dont hesitate
Because I cannot wait
Till I come home again to you
Cant waste all my time
Give me all today
Well its on my mind
You cant own me
When all I wanna be
But I dont wanna waste all my time
Hear me out
Because Ill scream and out
When I come home again to you
Home to you ...

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Home Again To You (demo Version)

Dont throw it all away
Hear what Ive gotta say
Because youre always on my mind
Ive got an eye on you
And only you will do
And I dont wanna waste my time
So wont you hear my out
Because its all about when
I come home again to you
Youre such a little child
Youre gonna drive me wild
As I just dont know what to say
I got an eye on you
And only you will do
And I dont wanna get in your play
Hesitate, because I cannot wait
Till I come home again to you
You make me feel so old
Just like I have been told
Because its always up to you
Oh baby, hear me out
Ive done all my time
And I dont wanna be misused
So please dont hesitate
Because I cannot wait
Till I come home again to you
Cant waste all my time
Give me all today
Well its on my mind
You cant own me
When all I wanna be
But I dont wanna waste all my time
Hear me out
Because Ill scream and out
When I come home again to you
Home to you ...

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When God Goes Home

There are moments in our lives
When every word is meaningless
What has to happen happens
And someones directing this I guess
There are moments in our dreams
Where fantasy goes to extremes
We close our eyes and drift away
Nothings left to say
There are mad dogs in our governments
With dollar bills and guns in hands
Building walls then knockem down
First destroy the buy the town
The write the book of history
With lots of blood and misery
Evers page is drowned in red
Sleep well in your bed
There are moments in our nights
When we forget the world outside
Youll take my hand and Ill take yours
And then we shut the doors
When you feel alone at night
Theres no - one there to hold you tight
Call me up switch of the light
And Ill help you through the night
Ill give you everything Ive got
Its not much believe me but
Im just a little wheel
In this machinery of steel
Oohh when God goes home
The world sleeps alone

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When I Get Home

I cant kiss the telephone, I cant hug your picture
And these postcards just remind me how far away you are
Theres two thousand miles of highway lyin between us
But the way I feel tonight it doesnt seem like all that far
'cus when I get home
I know the first thing were gonna do
When I get home
Im gonna turn my body loose on you
Its been so long, Ive been so true
I want you when I get home
If I could Id order you for breakfast every morning
Thered be a headline story about you in my usa today
Every in-flight movied feature you and all your glory
And into your friendly skies, this airplane would carry me away
'cus when I get home
I know the first thing were gonna do...
Now you could move and leave no forwarding address
You could be living on the moon
But I know just where you are, I dont have to guess
Youre waiting up for me and praying that Ill be home safe and soon
'cus when I get home
I know the first thing were gonna do...

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Sand-Between-The-Toes

I went down to the shouting sea,
Taking Christopher down with me,
For Nurse had given us sixpence each-
And down we went to the beach.

We had sand in the eyes and the ears and the nose,
And sand in the hair, and sand-between-the-toes.
Whenever a good nor'wester blows,
Christopher is certain of
Sand-between-the-toes.


The sea was galloping grey and white;
Christopher clutched his sixpence tight;
We clambered over the humping sand-
And Christopher held my hand.

We had sand in the eyes and the ears and the nose,
And sand in the hair, and sand-between-the-toes.
Whenever a good nor'wester blows,
Christopher is certain of
Sand-between-the-toes.

There was a roaring in the sky;
The sea-gulls cried as they blew by;
We tried to talk, but had to shout-
Nobody else was out.

When we got home, we had sand in the hair,
In the eyes and the ears and everywhere;
Whenever a good nor'wester blows,
Christopher is found with
Sand-between-the-toes.

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nostalgia ***** WHEN I GO HOME TO PALILAN

(written a night before I go back home, Manila to Palilan, Jimenez, Mis.Occ. circa 2000)

When I go home to Palilan I would hurriedly walk on the long road to home.
I’ll throw my warmest smile and look straight thru their eyes who surprise prettily about my unpredictable journey from somewhere they never know as I come back without crown they expect.

I’ll greet them the way how my strange friends welcomed my rare visits and wrote poems on what it’s like to fill up the missing link for my extended home.

I’ll show them how challenging the world exists beyond our own barangay
What life I have experienced while climbing legendary mountains, sailing rainstormy seas, exploring risky cities.

When I go home to Palilan I’ll go to the river then take my time at the back of my elementary school yard
I’ll face the water and count the floating clouds
I’ll spread my imagination on its transparent surface and when my imagination ceases I’ll recall my childhood wounded memories

When I get back to my home I’ll never break the family’s chain again
If they ask me where I had been I’ll read my touching anthology, open my album of memories, my loose life, my past, my everything, my solitary journey with empty pocket so perilous I feel

I’ll tell my younger bro and sis that there are roads somewhere we haven’t crossed yet. Highways we shouldn’t be afraid to explore as if sailing to the sky a smooth path for our unreachable future

When I go home to Palilan, I’ll give this narrative piece to my mama’s hand and be posted in our renovated wall near the wooden stair where I can read easily everytime I go back home.

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2005/07 A house is not a home

The house we've built
looked so pretty on the outside
now its filled with only my feelings
and now you hardly ever come in
those times when you do
its just a shell
just your body, not your heart
just your peck, not your kiss
just your hug, not your embrace
i need your love
i need you to want me
if you dont want me then why are you in my house
that's right, my house
you've moved your feelings, your furniture out
my home gets chilly at night
imprints of your pictures on the wall
toothbrush still in the holder
toilet seat still up

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Have You Ever...

Have you ever felt scared to love
For fear of being snubbed?

Have you ever had a sinking feeling in your gut
When a loved broke your trust?

Have you ever lost your self esteem
When all your efforts went to seed?

Have you ever felt lost
When you questioned what you valued most?

Have you ever felt you are going out of your mind
When nothing what so ever makes sense of any kind?

Have you ever lost faith in Him
And not known what to believe?

At times in life we are at cross roads
And feel we are star crossed.

I believe all this turmoil leads to search for the truth
That is essential for spiritual growth.

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