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James Taylor
James Taylor


Background information
Birth name James Vernon Taylor
Born March 12, 1948
Born place Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.
Genre(s) Folk-Rock
Rock
Pop
Country
Years active 1968—present
Label(s) Columbia Records
Capitol Records
EMI Group
Sony Music
Hear Music
Apple Records
Associated acts Carole King
Carly Simon
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  J  →  James Taylor  →  Albums  →  Walking Man

James Taylor Album


Walking Man (1974)
1974
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Moving in silent desperation
Keeping an eye on the Holy Land
A hypothetical destination
Say, who is this walking man?

Well, the leaves have come to turning
And the goose has gone to fly
And bridges are for burning
So don't you let that yearning
Pass you by
Walking man, walking man walks
Well, any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks

Well the frost is on the pumpkin
And the hay is in the barn
An Pappy's come to rambling on
Stumbling around drunk
Down on the farm

And the walking man walks
Doesn't know nothing at all
Any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks on by
Walk on by

Most everybody's got seed to sow
It ain't always easy for a weed to grow, oh no
So he don't hoe the row for no one
Oh for sure he's always missing
And something is never quite right
Ah, but who would want to listen to you
Kissing his existence good night

Walking man walk on by my door
Well, any other man stops and talks
But not the walking man
He's the walking man
Born to walk
Walk on walking man
Well now, would he have wings to fly
Would he be free
Golden wings against the sky
Walking man, walk on by
So long, walking man, so long


. . .



Mama knows and papa knows that rock 'n roll is music now.
Baby's been cutting his teeth on Bo Diddley's, I'm a man, man,
Listen to the Wolfman howl.

See the white man sailing his ship up on the sea,
watch the white man shackle the black man to a tree.
To the invader go the fruits of war, he misses home and his boots are sore.
He has not got no roots no more, he comes for your gold, watch out for your soul.

Cause tennis shoes, and rhythm and blues are second generation
all across the nation, now, and mama knows, papa too rock 'n roll is music,
rock 'n roll is music, now.

To the invader go the fruits of war, he misses home and his boots are sore.
He has not got no roots no more, he comes for your gold, watch out for your soul.

Mama knows and papa knows that rock 'n roll is music, rock 'n roll is music, now.


. . .



Sing a song for the wrong and the wicked and the strong and the sick, as thick as thieves.
For the faceless fear that was never so near, too clear to misbelieve.
Well the sea is jumping salty and the porpoise has the blues,
my recollection's faulty and I cannot find my shoes.
And my wiring is misfiring due to cigarettes and booze,
I'm behind in my dues, I just now got the news.
He seems to tell us lies and still we will believe him,
then together he will lead us into darkness, my friends.

Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.
Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.

The man says stand to one side, son, we got to keep this big ball rolling.
It's just a question of controlling for whom the bell is tolling.

Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.
Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.

There'll be suffering and starvation in the streets, young man.
Just where have you been, old man? Just look out of your window, man.

Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.
Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.

Well, it ain't nobody's fault but our own,
still, at least we might could show the good sense
To know when we've been wrong, and it's already taken too long.
So we bring it to a stop then we take it from the top,
we let it settle on down softly like your gently falling snow
or let it tumble down and topple like the temple long ago.

Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.
Let it fall down, let it fall down, let it all fall down.


. . .



Me and my guitar. always in the same mood.
I am mostly flesh and bones and he is mostly wood.
Never does grow impatient for the changes I don't know, no.
If he can't go to heaven, maybe, I don't want to go, Lord.

Picture me in the key of E, call me Uncle John.
Any fool can easily see that we go back a long time.
Feel something like fine to me, there's no such thing as the wrong time.
He hops up on my knee, singing, get down, Pops, it's song time.

Every now and then I'm a lonely man, it's nice to know that I've got a friend.
Puts his power right in my hand, all I've got to do is the best I can, if I can.
Got a dog named David, got a bird named Dinah,
got a birthmark on my thigh in the shape of Mainland China.
Got a somewhat southern accent cause I come from Carolina,
and if you want to find us, we'll be walking right behind you.

I hear horns, I hear voices, I hear strings, seems I was born with too many choices.
Now what am I going to do with all these extra things,
as they serve to confuse me, really.

It's me and my guitar, essentially me and my guitar.
Oh, maybe a few friends fall by for tea, a little bit of 'who do you love?'
But pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, it's me and my guitar.
Having fun, boogie-woogie, uh-huh, me and my guitar.


. . .



Daddy's baby, what's got you thinking? What's got you sinking so low?
Is there something I should know, something new to you?

Daddy's baby fussing and fretting, keeping on getting it wrong.
She can only last so long , so sing her a lullaby-bye.
Baby don't like to cry, so sing her a lullaby-bye.
Swaddle and swing her, sing her a lullaby.

She makes her feelings known to me, her every side is shown to me.
And in our time alone, our love has surely grown of its own.
Silent as a stepping stone, silently as the dawn was breaking,
soft and clear and my tears were dry,
and my tears had flown so I called my love my home.


. . .



There ain't no melody and I can't find a harmony.
If there were a way to say it, you know I would have played it.
Well, I'm a man of few words, trying to find a rhyme
and finally it occurred to me that I'm wasting my time.
There ain't no rhyme or reason, ain't no time or season,
Ain't no way around it, I know I would have found it.

There ain't no song in the whole wide world could hardly sing without you.
There ain't no song in the whole wide world to tell you the way that I feel.
Painters use their eyes to show us what they see
but when that canvas dries we all see it differently.

There ain't black or white, there ain't no day or night.
There ain't no way around it, y.ou know I would have found it

There ain't no song in the whole wide world could hardly sing without you.
There ain't no song in the whole wide world to tell you the way that I feel.

No, no, no, I might as well pack it on up,
not even this song's gonna tell you the way that I feel.


. . .



Paris' rooftops were lovely to see.
Switzerland's vertical landscape crossed my mind's eye just now.
Canada's shoreline has been calling out to me, but it's been too long a time
Since last I crossed that vast Nantucket sound,

hello old friend, welcome me home again. Well, I've been away but that's all over now.
Say I can stay for October, now, stay a while and play.

Little dog David, I must look like a fool.
I should've remembered you'd be forgetting my smell, well.
Give me a week or two to recapture my cool, I've got stories to tell
about how I snatched the devil's catch and out ran the hounds of hell.

Hello old friend, welcome me home again. Well, I've been away but that's all over now.
Say I can stay for October, now, stay a while and see.

Hello old friend, welcome me home again. Well, I've been away but that's all over now.
Isn't it nice to be home again, over here it's clear. Hello, old friend.


. . .



Distant hands in foreign lands are turning hidden wheels,
causing things to come about which no one seems to feel.
All invisible from where we stand, the connections come to pass
and though too strange to comprehend, they affect us nonetheless, yes.

Once again a time of change, oh, the change makes music and the children will dance.

See the pieces of the picture rearrange themselves.
It feels just like a symphony to me, with nothing left to chance.
Just look over your shoulder, it's out of you hands it's over for now.
Leave behind what you can, you can always return.

The rhythm remains unbroken, unspoken but loud and clear,
it's a slow vibration, migration.

Mystery muse, how I hunger for an answer, unsung song, how I long to play the changes.
Hidden rhythm, haven't I always been your dancer?
Sacred secrets of the meaning to my dreaming, migration.


. . .



Left my home in Norfolk, Virginia, California on my mind.
Straddled that Greyhound and rode it into Raleigh and on across Caroline.
We stopped in Charlotte but we bypassed Rockhill, we never was a minute late.
We were ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown rolling out of Georgia state.

Had some motor trouble that turned into a struggle half way across Alabam.
That hound broke and left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham.
So right away I bought me a through train ticket right across Mississippi clean,
And I was on that Special Flyer out of Birmingham smoking into New Orleans.

Someone's got to help me get out of Louisiana, just to help me get to Houston town.
There's an uncle there who cares a little about me and he won't let the poor boy down.
Sure as you're born, he bought me a silk suit, put some luggage in my hand.
And I woke up high over Albuquerque on a jet to the Promised Land.

Working on a T-Bone steak, a la carte, flying over to the Golden State.
When the pilot told us that in thirteen minutes he would have us at the terminal gate.
Swing down chariot, come down easy, taxi to the terminal dome.
Cut your engines and cool your wings and let me make it to the telephone.

Los Angeles give me Norfolk, Virginia, tidewater four-ten-O-nine.
Tell the folks back home this is the Promised Land calling,
and the poor boy is on the line.


. . .



When I've got something to say, well, don't I always let you know?
So that you and I can go my way together.
And if I get carried away, well, I could be sailing on a song
and maybe we could carry on forever.

But lately this old dog has been chasing his tail round and round and round.
And the circles in my mind, they have been winding slowly down.
Everybody's breezing up but I'm seizing up, I'm freezing up and I'm fading away.

I've got a hold on a night in June, I've got room for you and me.
I've got moonlight up in the trees, I've got sixty-eight degrees.
I've got nothing on my mind but I've got loving in my heart,
And I've got something out in the garden I want to show you.
Well, it really doesn't matter after all if we quit this round about
and no one will really notice if we can just sit this next one out.
You can strike up the band without me, you may have your doubts about me,
But I'm just fading away.
You can hardly even see me because I'm fading away.

Well, it's hard to find a label for this feeling in my bones.
That this is all a make-believe but my cards are on the table
and there ain't nothing up my sleeve.
And here I thought I was a thinking man but I'm a shrinking man, I'm sinking man,
I'm fading, fading away.

Well, it's really not so bad to be fading away.
Come on along with me and we'll go fading away.
You can hardly even hear me because I'm fading away.


. . .


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