Green Sleeping Bag
from Far Away From Any Place Called Home by Joanna Wallfisch
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lyrics
Four walls, an open door,
The radio, books on the floor,
The lights were on,
“hello? hello? Is anybody home?”
Night had fallen on the waves,
Keen white horses danced and played,
Three hundred prayer flags in the wind said,
“You’re welcome to come in”
oooh. oooh.
Through the first door,
On shelves leaning
Towers of years and years of meaning. Through the second, beyond the kitchen,
The sound of someone sleeping.
And past the table there,
Piles of letters everywhere,
Across the carpet, down the hall,
I saw him there, just sleeping there.
Green was the colour of his sleeping bag,
And blue were his eyes when he looked up at me,
And said, “thank you for waking me.
“I’ve been dreaming a lot lately,
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll wake up tomorrow
“Come, come, let’s have a beer,
“You can tell me the story ‘bout how you got here.”
Two wheels, a northern wind,
A humpback whale, Strangers, friends.
A broken heart, a mended mind,
And you were not heard to find.
I kept the ocean to my right,
Rode through the day and slept at night,
When times were hard, those times would pass,
And he I am at last.
“Well, put your feet up there,
“Lay your blankets anywhere,
“There’s sixty years between us, yet,
“We’re just the same,
“We like to play
“Life’s adventure game.”
Tall were the mountains he’d lived upon,
And long were the roads he’d walked in the snow,
He’d been round the world more than eighty times,
Spoke several languages, mostly in rhyme,
His first love was music,
Just as music was mine.
We two sat on two stools, Two fools, two strangers, now friends. Sharing stories, pitfalls and glories,
Sipping on lagavulin.
We talked til the early hours,
In a cottage known as Bad Manors,
With only the ocean to hear our laughter.
But then it was time to part,
Our dreams were waiting to impart
Beauties that would appear, then disappear
Into the dark.
Sunrise, the morning lark,
Salt on the breeze, time to depart,
He took my hand to to me said,
“I know you well, more than yourself.
“The road is waiting, you’d better go,
“Think fast but live slow.
“And keep your powder dry,
“And your gun oiled,
“The winds at your back, pal.
“Remember me.”
I’ll remember you.
“Come back someday”
I’d love to.
Farewell.
Farewell.
Adieu.
The radio, books on the floor,
The lights were on,
“hello? hello? Is anybody home?”
Night had fallen on the waves,
Keen white horses danced and played,
Three hundred prayer flags in the wind said,
“You’re welcome to come in”
oooh. oooh.
Through the first door,
On shelves leaning
Towers of years and years of meaning. Through the second, beyond the kitchen,
The sound of someone sleeping.
And past the table there,
Piles of letters everywhere,
Across the carpet, down the hall,
I saw him there, just sleeping there.
Green was the colour of his sleeping bag,
And blue were his eyes when he looked up at me,
And said, “thank you for waking me.
“I’ve been dreaming a lot lately,
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll wake up tomorrow
“Come, come, let’s have a beer,
“You can tell me the story ‘bout how you got here.”
Two wheels, a northern wind,
A humpback whale, Strangers, friends.
A broken heart, a mended mind,
And you were not heard to find.
I kept the ocean to my right,
Rode through the day and slept at night,
When times were hard, those times would pass,
And he I am at last.
“Well, put your feet up there,
“Lay your blankets anywhere,
“There’s sixty years between us, yet,
“We’re just the same,
“We like to play
“Life’s adventure game.”
Tall were the mountains he’d lived upon,
And long were the roads he’d walked in the snow,
He’d been round the world more than eighty times,
Spoke several languages, mostly in rhyme,
His first love was music,
Just as music was mine.
We two sat on two stools, Two fools, two strangers, now friends. Sharing stories, pitfalls and glories,
Sipping on lagavulin.
We talked til the early hours,
In a cottage known as Bad Manors,
With only the ocean to hear our laughter.
But then it was time to part,
Our dreams were waiting to impart
Beauties that would appear, then disappear
Into the dark.
Sunrise, the morning lark,
Salt on the breeze, time to depart,
He took my hand to to me said,
“I know you well, more than yourself.
“The road is waiting, you’d better go,
“Think fast but live slow.
“And keep your powder dry,
“And your gun oiled,
“The winds at your back, pal.
“Remember me.”
I’ll remember you.
“Come back someday”
I’d love to.
Farewell.
Farewell.
Adieu.
credits
from Far Away From Any Place Called Home,
released April 1, 2019
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Joanna Wallfisch Los Angeles, California
“Ushering you into a magical sound world… at once boldly individual and sublimely subtle”
★★★★ Jazzwise
Magazine
“When Joanna is on stage one can do nothing but pay attention” ★★★★Downbeat
“Wallfisch combines the intimate purview of a singer-songwriter with the technical liberties of a jazz improviser” The Boston Globe
“Wallfisch creates crystalline, inquisitive music” Wall Street Journal
... more
discography
-
Apr 2019 -
Feb 2018 -
Jul 2016 -
Mar 2015 -
Mar 2012 -
Aug 2012
contact / help
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