*Angel Pie

(This one is a re-write of American Pie)

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How music first made me smile.
It was not something I could make
But it was something that moved my heart
And, made me happy for a while.



But February's winds made me shiver
With all the cruelty it delivered.
Bad news and strife on the doorstep;
Until I could not take one more step.

I can remember how hard I cried
I do know that I tried to hide
I felt pain deep inside
The day the music died.

So bye-bye, my sweet Angle Pie.
I try to listen to my tunes,
But the sound has gone dry.
The good old boys are drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', this'll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.

Your name is next to mine in the book of love,
My angel sent down from above,
And we both know its so.
We both believe in rock 'n roll,
And the music deep with in our soul,
And how it feels to dance real slow.



Well, I know that you love him
But I pray you will come back to me again.
We will both kick off our shoes,
And just sit back and enjoy some blues.
I am just lonely teenage wanna be Buck
With a crummy yellow pickup truck,
But I know I am just out of luck
Because the music died.

And I'm singin',
Bye-bye, my little Angle Pie.
Trying to share my tunes,
But my music well has gone dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', this'll be the day that I die.
This'll be the day that I die.

It has been many years since I had heard the notes
And I had grown fat on others tones.
But that's not how it used to be.
When I first heard how to see,
In a voice of a choir true
I first saw visions of a face that was you.

And after years had let me down,
And treated me like a clown.
Life had left me behind.
And for the music I was blind.
All that was left for me was to toe the mark
And listen to dirges in the dark
Because the music had died.

I can only sing,
Bye-bye, my precious Angle Pie.
I want to share tunes,
But all the sounds just seem to die.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', this'll be the day that I die.
This'll be the day that I die.



Then in the middle of a summer swelter
With my mind screaming for shelter,
I was miles deep and falling fast.
I landed in a fields of grass,
With birds singing out a mass.
A siren's song to help forget the past.

The half-time of my life found sweet perfume
While and angel sang a marching tune.
We embrace for a sweet dance,
But we never got the chance!

'Cus other players stole the field;
And other concerns refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
Before the music died?



We started singing,
Bye-bye, my Angle Pie.
I want to sing with you
But all I can do is cry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', this'll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.

Here I am now in this strange place,
Alone in time and lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on babe, come back quick.
In the dark be my candlestick
'Cause I need light to see my only friend.

As I stand and watch the stage
My hands are clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in heaven or hell
Can break this Satan’s spell.

The flames climb high into the night
Like a light on some sacrificial rite,
I see Satan laughing with delight
And all the music died.

He was singing,
Bye-bye, little Angle Pie.
No songs around here,
Listen as the birds cry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', this'll be the day that I die.
This'll be the day that I die.

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
She shared a smile with me but then turned away.
I bowed down to my angel of song
And to the visions of her from years before,
But all said to me the music just won't play.

And in the streets with a silent scream,
The lovers cried, and I could no longer even dream.
Not a word I spoke
Even the church bells were all broke.

And the silence is deafening in my ears
There is no song for me to hear.
The notes all left my dear.
The day the music died.

And they were singing,
Bye-bye, sweet angel of my eye.
I want to drive away with you,
But my pleas are all dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', this'll be the day that I die.
This'll be the day that I die.

G - January 2008