The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver on the border
This doesn't even count the guitar riffs. I heard fatfred say this about another artist recently: it's not just the notes he does play, it's the space, the silence between those notes. I discovered Mr. Stewart through a shipmate back in the Federally Subsidised Tourist days. Didn't purchase any of his albums then... no, wait maybe I did. If so, it's vinyl. LP. Not quite ancient technology. *G* Recently picked up three CD's to add to the library.
On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
It makes for a nice way to ease out of a day when I put more nails in that box.