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John Barleycorn Must Die - Traffic - Island 1970 
testi
Glad - strumentale
Freedom Rider - Stevie Winwood
Empty Pages - Stevie Winwood
Stranger to himself - Winwood/Capaldi
John Barleycorn - tradizionale & Stevie Winwood
Every Mother's Son - Winwood/CapaldiĘ
Glad
strumentale
Freedom Rider
Like a hurricane around your heart
when earth and sky are torn apart
He comes gathering up the bits
while hoping that the puzzle fits
He leaves you, he leaves you.
Freedom rider.
With a silver star between his eyes
that open up at hidden lies
Big man crying with defeat,
See people gathering in the street
You feel him, you feel him.
Freedom rider.
When lightning strikes you to the bone,
You turn around, you're all alone
by the time you hear that silent sound,
then your soul is
in the lost and found
forever, forever. Freedom rider
here it comes.........
Empty Pages
Found someone who can comfort me,
but there are always exceptions
and she's good at appearing sane,
but I just want you to know.
She's the one makes me feel so good
when everything is against me
Picks me up when I'm feeling down,
so I've got something to show.
Staring at empty pages, centered 'round the same plot
Staring at empty pages, flowing along in the ages.
Often lost and forgotten,
the vagueness and the mud
I've been thinking I'm working too hard,
but I've got something to show.
Staring at empty pages, centered 'round the same plot
Staring at empty pages, flowing along in the ages.
Staring at empty pages, centered 'round the same plot
Staring at empty pages, flowing along in the ages.
Often lost and forgotten,
the vagueness and the mud
I've been thinking I'm working too hard,
but I've got something to show.
Found someone who can comfort me,
but there are always exceptions
and she's good at appearing sane,
but I just want you to know.
Stranger to himself
Struggling with confusion, disillusionment too
Can turn a man into a shadow, crying out from pain.
Through his nightmare vision, he sees nothing, only well
Blind with the beggar's mind, he's but a stranger
He's but a stranger to himself.
Suspended from a rope inside a bucket down a hole
His hands are torn and bloodied from the scratching at his soul.
Through his nightmare vision, he sees nothing, only well
Blind with the beggar's mind, he's but a stranger
He's but a stranger to himself.
Through his nightmare vision, he sees nothing, only well
Blind with the beggar's mind, he's but a stranger
He's but a stranger to himself.
John Barleycorn
There were three men came out of the west,
their fortunes for to try
and these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die.
They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clouds upon his head
and these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead.
They've let him lie for a very long time,
'til the rains from heaven did fall
and little Sir John sprung up his head
and so amazed them all.
They've let him stand 'til Midsummer's Day 'til he looked both pale and wan
and little Sir John's grown a long long beard
and so become a man.
They've hired men with their scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him by the way, serving him most barbarously
They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks who've pricked him to the heart
and the loader he has served him worse than that
for he's bound him to the cart.
They've wheeled him around and around a field 'til they came onto a pond
and there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone
and the miller he has served him worse than that
for he's ground him between two stones.
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl and his brandy in the glass
and little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn
and the tinker he can't mend kettle or pots without a little Barleycorn.
Every Mother's Son
Once again I'm northward bound, on the edge of sea and sky
Tomorrow is my friend, my one and only friend
We travel on together searching for the end.
I'm a traveling soul and every mother's son
although I'm getting tired I've got to travel on
Can you please help, my God ? Can you please help, my God ?
Can you please help, my God ? I think it's only fair.
Once again I'm northward bound, on the edge of sea and sky
Together we will go and see what waits for us
a backdoor to the universe that opens doors.
I'm a traveling soul and every mother's son
although I'm getting tired I've got to travel on
Can you please help, my God ? Can you please help, my God ?
Can you please help, my God ? I think it's only fair.
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