He's the Man Who's Got It All. Now when you grow up, You should want to be Like the man who lives Behind the wall of walls. He's so big He don't accept no calls. He's The Man Who's Got It All.
Chorus: And he lives in his eight-by-ten room With no windows So the sun and moon can't see him. Finds his shelter in a silver spoon. Oh, how lovely it is to be him.
He's the Man Who's Got It All. And you should all look up to him. Because he's the one who says if you can win, And if you don't, it's the greatest sin. Can't be like the Man Who's Got It All.
Some say he's got more fears than anyone. And he's a slave to his property. Can't remember what it's like to Walk down a road and sing. He's too busy playing king. He's got it all, but he's got nothing.
Chorus: He's heard it all; he's seen it all; he's done it all. He's the Man Who's Got It All. Now that he's got it, how will he keep it? Who wants to take it? When will he lose it?
("...a person delighting only in the sense lives in vain.")*
CAN SOMEBODY TELL ME?
Don't know where I'm going Don't know where I've been. Don't even know who I am-- Just wandering aimlessly Through these worlds, Sometime up and sometimes down.
Is this the whole story: I was born and now I'm about to die? Is birth, death, old age, and disease all there is? And if so, Why?
Chorus: Can Somebody Tell Me Why these miseries Keep coming down on me?
Incomplete: a fish out of water. Phantom of the pleasure halls. Eat this, smoke that, Bank here, drive there-- Buy a drop of water for your desert.
(The beginning of human life is inquiring, "Why am I suffering?")
I wish I had a Peaceful Mind, Undisturbed by happiness or misery, Not attached to material things, From fear and from anger free.
In such a happy state as this The miseries of life no longer exist: In transcendental consciousness We soon attain peace.
And how can there be an happiness Without peace?
The nature of the mind can be Either enemy or friend. Controlling it is harder than To tame the restless wind. But still we are meant to to try, To try to make our lives sublime By hearing of the Spiritual Sky, The land of perfect peace.
And how can there be any happiness Without peace?
("It is undoubtedly very difficult to curb the restless mind, but it is possible by constant practice and detachment.")*
Now I lay me down listening To the sound of the sea. The waves ever building With a stern tranquility Reminds me of forever And I drink the sound I hear.
Then from my tropic isle Spanish voices become clear And the sound takes me back To the city, to my neighbors And tomorrow's fears.
I dreamed I was a mother, I dreamed I was a queen. I dreamed of my childhood And of one I'd never seen On a planet where the only light Was from a jewel on a serpent's hood. Some dreams really scare you. Others seem rather good.
Chorus: Dreaming, Illusions only. What makes the difference between Between Dreams and the lives we live? Each has its Beginning. Each has its End. Both are limited by Time. And out own Perceptions, my friend.
Through the eyes of a tiny bird Floating on the air, I saw a flying mountain of gold, Wondrous beyond compare.
I sought shelter in a banyan tree, It all seemed true to me. No less so than this Recurring Daydream We call reality.
Constantly running in a Dream, But what is there to do? Of our eternal existence, How few have even a clue?
While societies rise and fall Like bubbles on the sea of time. Walking and sleeping so curiously Like living and dying.
And you know we could say here Forever. Ever sleeping, never substance-- Does that bother you? Chorus:
("Those who are seers of the truth have concluded that of the
He's a Political Man. He'll shake every one's hand. He'll do whatever he can to make you his fan. Say what they want to hear. Promise them a tomorrow without any fear. Speeches, Rhetoric, catchy empty slogans he will pour in your ear.
Kiss their babies and smile to their faces. You can even shed a tear for the race. You're a practical man, a Political Man. Your superficiality is not for me.
Put your money in the campaign chest to broadcast your name and fame. Because you're the best; you want 'em all to know You're better than the rest. Winning's the name of the game, And the other side is the one to blame. You're gonna spend enough--say the right things to pass the test.
Hire a PR man for the right profile And a photographer to catch that political smile. You're a practical man, a Political Man. Your superficiality is not for me.
Work a hundred jobs, ride a bike backwards, and smile, smile, smile You can even run a mile. You're a family man, man of the people and a veteran, but after you win it's goodbye: You're going into exile!
(Whatever action is performed by a great man, common men follow in his footsteps. And whatever standards he sets by exemplary acts, all the world pursues."* Now the leaders are mis-leaders, and society is following them into chaos.)
THINGS AIN'T WHAT THEY USED TO BE
Things Ain't What They Used To Be. No, Things Ain't What They Used To Be.
Used to be you could trust your fellow man. Now I don't think anybody really can. Used to be money made of gold. Now it's just some dirty paper you fold.
Things Ain't What They Used To Be.
Used to be killing was a crime. Now they do it legal all the time. Saw a man walk the moon on TV. Wonder how much that trip cost me.
Things Ain't What They Seem To Be.
Seems to be there's knowledge in the school But it's the blind leading the blind as a rule. Telling me we're making great progress. All I see is an ocean of distress.
Things Ain't What They Used To Be.
(Things Ain't What They Used To Be, however recognizing the problems is the first step toward solving them.)
Going to the country where the life is mighty fine. Headed for Murari to be happy all the time. Sweet water in the country and the air is always clean, Mother Nature's so kind she gives us everything. Working in a factory ain't the way that I'm inclined, I packed my bags; I'm leaving this old city mess behind. There's hard work at Murari, but it's not the kind we mind, Because we do it for the Lord, and this is what we find.
Chorus: Blue skies, peace of mind, tell me what you need! Soul sings a glad song in the hills of Tennessee. Plenty of milk and honey, feasting all the time Gonna be simple and free-- Playit one more time, hey! Going home to Murari, All the way back home. We'll live out on the land under blue skies with peace of mind. City life won't see me back again. Going home to Murari, All the way back home. We'll depend upon the Lord whom we're living for. Before you know, we'll be home again.
We live out on Murari Farm and let me tell you this: There's nothing about city life that any of us miss. Don't need to buy a ticket to play or watch the TV To see someone else enjoying because out here pasture's free. Farming at Murari everybody does his part, Living simple, thinking high, feel it cleanse your heart. Sunshine at Murari and the cows are doing fine. Wanna turn your life around? Well, come on down sometime.
(A second invitation to all interested parties to come on down to Murari, our farm in Tennessee, and be happy.)
We are all so small, but we take ourselves so seriously, so seriously. A tree with no fruits stands so proud and tall but a tree with fruits overladen bows down humbly.
Chrous: Walking so proud and tall, but you know they say Pride comes before the fall.
You rewrite your holy books to say "thou shalt not kill" means you should not murder. And easily forget the frightened, helpless looks On the faces of the slaughtered children. Yes, Science has solved it all, but you know they say Pride comes before the fall.
Walking so proud and tall, etc.
Thinking we've accomplished so much. So proud of our great nation. Businessmen and politicians out of touch With the origin of all Creation. Forests of barren trees standing tall, But you know they say Pride comes before the fall. Walking so proud and tall, etc.
("Pride is due to illusion, for although one comes here, stays for a brief time and then goes away, he has the foolish notion that he is Lord of the world.")*
Lynda Hynes- Vocals, Keyboards, Acoustic Guitar Benny Tillman- Vocals, Drums, Acoustic Guitar Gary Sonddy- Vocals, Drums Jim Reid- Lead Guitar Mike Sisko- Bass
Produced by Gerard Hynes and Murari Band All selections by Gerard & Lynda Hynes, Except "Murari Revisited" by Jim Reid Cover illustration by: Rasanth Das * From Bhagavada-gita As It Is by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOY "DREAM" AND APPRECIATE ITS MEANING. THANKS VERY MUCH TO OUR OLD FRIENDS, LISTENERS OF THE FIRST ALBUM, "MURARI", WHO WROTE TO US ASKING QUESTIONS, ENCOURAGING AND ENLIVENING US
Editor's note: I thought that this record was going to be terrible after reading the lyrics on the back of the cover but it's actually listenable. Not that it isn't dated, cliched and mainstream, because of course it is, but it has some musical value if to nobody other than the Krishnas or whoever the hell these communal people are.
I came across this record on a few blogs and managed to track down some audio from WFMU's site. I would love to hear more from this honky-tonkin' caterwaulin' queen. Listen to the tracks below and I think you will too!