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"This Letter" was written in loving memory of my good friend, Beverly, killed by a drunken
driver, in May, 2003.
"THIS LETTER"
There’s this letter,
It came in the mail today.
Don’t
wanna read this letter
‘Cause I know what it’s gonna say.
There’s this letter,
I just can’t
open it now.
I wish that I could turn back time
And do it different, somehow.
There’s this letter,
I
know it can’t be from you.
I can see it’s not your writing,
What harm can reading it do?
There’s
this letter,
But I just can’t open it yet.
Memories of the love we shared
Ain’t that easy to forget.
There’s
this letter,
I can’t bring myself to read it.
I already know the words will say
I couldn’t give you what
you needed.
There’s this letter,
I don’t think I’ll read it, ever.
For you were young and I am
old,
We had no future together.
There’s this letter
That shall forever go unread.
I got that phone call
much too late
That told me you were dead.
There’s this letter,
And it takes away my breath.
Oh, I can’t
describe my sorrow
That I couldn’t prevent your death.
By
D. R. Mitchell
"SAW
YOU IN MY DREAM"
Saw you in my dream last night,
What
were you doing there?
Where was the one I thought I loved,
The one for whom I care?
I don’t mean to be unkind,
Don’t
mean to put you down,
It’s that I’ve never dreamed before
Of having you around.
Saw you in
my dream last night,
What were you doing there?
You’re not the one I thought I’d see,
Don’t know
why you’d appear.
You’re not the one I’ve thought about
But with a bit more time,
It wouldn’t
take me very long
Before I changed my mind.
Saw you in my dream last night,
What were you doing there?
I dreamed
I took you in my arms,
Caressed your long dark hair.
I felt no guilt, it was too good,
What else could I do?
It
hurt to wake up from that dream,
It meant losing you.
Saw you in my dream last night,
What were you doing there?
What
were you doing there?
Written by D. R. Mitchell, “The Mitchman”
"Hey,
Look At Me" is loosely based on an article I read, entitled, "Listen To What I'm Not Saying - Masks People Wear".
This is one of several songs I wrote with my Ebony Lady in mind. She saw through the outrageous mask I preferred
to show the world. She saw me for what I was, and not what I pretended to be.
"HEY, LOOK AT ME"
The chance that
I might lose you now
Is my biggest fear.
Despite the things I seem to be
I’m not what I appear.
Well I might
act so confident
And I may look so cool.
But, girl,
don’t get too close to me
‘Cause you might see the fool.
Refrain:
Hey, look at me,
But don’t
be fooled by the mask I wear.
Hey, look at me,
I’d love to love you, but I don’t dare.
I’m
not proud of the way I am,
I hate the games I play,
But if I drop my phony act,
I fear what you might say.
You
are such a different girl,
You see right through me.
You accept me for myself,
Not what I’d like to be.
Repeat
refrain
You are my salvation,
You are my good cheer.
I am such a different man
Whenever you are near.
You
breathe new life into me
Because you understand.
You are a kind and gentle soul.
Please love me if you can.
Repeat
refrain
Written by D. R. Mitchell, “The Mitchman”
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"For My Ebony Lady"
was written, when I worked at Prudential Insurance Company, in the 1970s, for my beautiful, sweet, classy ebony lady.
I couldn't possibly know at the time that, all these many years later, I would still carry the torch. I truly regret
that things didn't work out, but it was my fault, not hers. I was a coward. I don't even know if she is still alive; if she is, I would love to find her. I would do
it differently the second time around.
"FOR MY EBONY LADY"
You tell me times are changin’
And
things are turnin’ around,
And since the times are changin’,
I’ll share the new love I found.
You
tell me times are changin’
And people gonna be free,
But if the times are changin’,
Oh, babe, why
won’t you love me?
Refrain:
Why do you think in black and white,
Young and old and left and right,
Weak
and strong and needless fright,
When all I want is to love you,
All I want is to love you.
You tell me times
are changin’
Oh, girl, I wish it was true,
‘Cause if the times are changin’
Why won't you let me
love you?
You tell me times are changin’
But, babe, I think you forgot.
Why
do you hold it against me
That you’re black and I am not?
Repeat refrain
written by D. R. Mitchell
"A SAD GOOD-BYE"
When I wake up in the morning
How
lonely I know I will be,
When I reach across to touch you,
But you won’t be here with me.
Although you’re
here beside me now,
In spirit you’re miles away,
And there’s nothing I’ll do to keep you,
There’s
no reason for you to stay.
Refrain:
Well, goodbye is a lonely word.
But, babe, you know it’s true,
I
would rather be lonely
Then to spend another day with you.
We’re marching to a different drum,
But it really
don’t matter to me.
‘Cause I can’t lose what I never had,
You ain’t what you promised to be.
Each
night we lay here together,
But I doubt you’re really mine.
Every day I love you so much more,
But every day
you’re more unkind.
Refrain:
You tell me how much you love me;
Oh,darlin', I wish it was true.
But
those loving words you say to me
Are different from things you do.
I know I’m still in love with you,
And I
hate to see you cry,
But it’s time to take a different road
And bid you a sad good-bye.
Written by D. R.
Mitchell
Stan was an older gentleman with whom I worked at Prudential Insurance
Company in the 1970s. He was quite a character, with whom I had some interesting, at times vociferous, discussions.
He felt I was a part of the lunatic, left-wing, liberal fringe (a title to which I proudly confess) and I felt (with much
justification) that he was a narrow-minded, ignorant, right-wing bigot (is there any other kind?).
"GOOD OL' STAN"
Well, good ol’ Stan
He’s
a dirty ol’ man.
Keeps tryin’ to get it whenever he can.
He don’t like cussin’
But he’s
always fussin’
‘Cause he just don’t give a damn.
Oh, he loves sinnin’
With all willing
women,
He don’t worry ‘bout what they look like.
Well, he ain’t too choosey
He’ll take any
old floozy,
And it just don’t matter if they ain’t alive
He’s a bit of a bigot
But wants to
forget it,
‘Cause he loves women, no matter what race.
He’s always in a hurry,
But don’t seem
to worry
As long as women remember their place.
He’s always prayin’
But I hear him sayin’
There
are some things you just cannot keep
He’s always schemin’
But he’s only dreamin’
‘Cause
all he’s getting is a whole lot of sleep
Written by “the Mitchman”, D. R. Mitchell
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