All
text and images copyright Tim Myers
2008
Tim Myers:
Music
Music
Those
Stars
Tim Myers
This section is under construction--if you're interested,
please check back in the future.
In the meantime, here's a song lyric:
I Call on Orpheus
Words and music by Tim Myers
(Copyright 1997 Tim Myers)
If I could stand inside your dreams
and with these hands beguile the sounding strings--
and in the forest of your sleep,
if I could raise a song among the trees--
if I had the voice of the man-god,
would you open your heart like a flower?
When he sang out, the birds wheeled down;
the badger watched, the wood-mice huddled round.
The bees lay drunk with honey-song;
The lion came and silently looked on.
Cunning or timid or ruthless,
each one opened its heart like a flower.
I see your eyes.
I see what you could be.
I see your eyes.
I see your eyes.
I see what we could be.
I see your eyes.
But here I stand, an average man,
with words too few and these ungentle hands.
This love that burns me like a sun
is straining at the doorway of my tongue.
Grant me the truth of that harpist--
will you open your heart like a flower?
Grant me the truth of that harpist--
softly open your heart like a flower.
Open your heart like a flower.
Open your heart like a flower.
In the meantime, here's a song lyric:
I Call on Orpheus
Words and music by Tim Myers
(Copyright 1997 Tim Myers)
If I could stand inside your dreams
and with these hands beguile the sounding strings--
and in the forest of your sleep,
if I could raise a song among the trees--
if I had the voice of the man-god,
would you open your heart like a flower?
When he sang out, the birds wheeled down;
the badger watched, the wood-mice huddled round.
The bees lay drunk with honey-song;
The lion came and silently looked on.
Cunning or timid or ruthless,
each one opened its heart like a flower.
I see your eyes.
I see what you could be.
I see your eyes.
I see your eyes.
I see what we could be.
I see your eyes.
But here I stand, an average man,
with words too few and these ungentle hands.
This love that burns me like a sun
is straining at the doorway of my tongue.
Grant me the truth of that harpist--
will you open your heart like a flower?
Grant me the truth of that harpist--
softly open your heart like a flower.
Open your heart like a flower.
Open your heart like a flower.