THE NEW ALBUM, "AMERICA"

 1   THE GATHERING SONG                             Written w/Joey Brown                                                                      (From the album “Mostly Harmless”)                  

 2   HIGHWAY 1939               (Written August 2025)

 3   CHILDREN OF THE DREAM           (From the album “All I Am”)

 4   THE TRUTH                                       (From “All I Am”)

 5   SNAKE IN THE CREEK       (From “How Far Can You See?)

 6   HOLY GROUND              (From “Front Porch Hymns & Humns”)

 7   MINIONS                              (Written August 2025)

 8   TIME TO TAKE THE CAR KEYS AWAY         (Written August 2025)

 9   WELCOME, FAIREST FRIEND                     (Written August 2025)

 10 BORDERLINE                     (From “How Far Can You See?”)

 11 I WILL SWING MY SWORD                      (Written August 2025)

 12 ALPINE HOME                       (From “Hymns & Humns”)

• Earlier songs appear here because I have imagined that their meaning may be enhanced by the context of this album.

• I sang, played guitars, keyboard, bass, things you hit, 

harmonica, mandolin, banjo, arranged, engineered, produced, 

and wrote these songs. The “Liberty” photo was taken by the 

noted New York photographer Amir Sukalic one night from the Staten Island Ferry on his way home from work, with his iPhone.

THE GATHERING SONG 

words & music by Joey Brown and Marvin Payne

Gather the wisdom of all our years,

Compassion of all our tears,

the strength of all our hands     

And all our songs.                 

Sisters and brothers all,

Can you hear the Spirit call—

Call us to build a home

Where all belong?

Surrounded by the dark of night, 

We’ll gather ‘round the firelight,

No one left alone outside,

Helpless in the cold.

Gather the wisdom of all our years,

Compassion of all our tears,

the strength of all our hands     

And all our songs.     

Though it seems a mystery,

We share a holy history,

Can we hope for this to be  

The bond that makes us free? 

Gather the wisdom of all our years,

Compassion of all our tears,

the strength of all our hands     

And all our songs.     

HIGHWAY 1939

The road yonder takes us home as it breaks the horizon ahead.

Our hopes wander high, holy and blessed and bright.

The sun reaches warm through the windshield. The morning is risin’ ahead,

raisin’ the dreams that were dead, healin’ the night.

Here we go, on this American road. 

We joy in the hum, the sweet steady thunder of tires below.

The song of the sun, the clean wind of wonder cries out.

The faster we run, the farther we’re under its fire as we go.

Then on the radio we hear them shout

“There’s a big road rage southbound

on Highway 1939.”

We’ve packed all our plans, all the dreams that we can for the drive today.

We’ve trusted the masters, believed in the maps they laid down.

We’re feelin’ the freedom. You know that we’re feelin’ alive today.

We could arrive today, if we don’t turn around. 

Then they say “There’s a big road rage southbound

on Highway 1939.

Look out! There’s a big road rage southbound

on Highway 1939.”  

The mountains arise like ships in the skies, they will sigh like the stars.

They shine through the cloud, lookin’ just like a proud promised land.

The engine so bold, she sings out the soul of this old trusted car.

We are so near, and so far. Give me your hand.

Take a stand, ‘cause

There’s a big road rage southbound

on Highway 1939.

A big road rage southbound

on Highway 1939.

CHILDREN OF THE DREAM

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the dream.

Each holy thing that you can dream will come true.

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the dream.

You will have wings, the wisdom of kings, if you rise up.

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the light.

Rainbow and white, all of your righteous hopes will shine.

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the light.

Fearsome in flight out of the night, you will finally rise up.

You are the flower and the flame.

There’s peace and there’s power in your name.

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the sun.

You are the ones chosen to run all this way.

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the Son.

He has begun rolling in thunder to say “Rise up.”

Children of the dream, 

each holy thing that you can dream will come true.

Rise up, rise up, rise up children of the dream.

Rise up and sing the healing you bring. Will you rise up?

THE TRUTH

You got a silver spoon, pounds and shillings, doubloons in your youth.

You built silver saloons. You played golf on the dunes, claw and tooth.

You know you reached for the moon, then you were wounded, marooned on the roof.

I’ve heard you say that fake news is what losers use. Tell the truth.

Though the crow on your shoulder whispers cues to you. Tell the truth.

If you schmooze, you lose, still you choose to refuse us the truth.

Why don’t you wake up and quit tryin’ to make up the facts?

They’re not wishes and whims you can shake up to fake what you lack. 

There’s the devil to pay when we believe what you say. Take it back.

There’s a country out there. God will share it with me and with you.  

There are people, I swear, pledge allegiance to all that you do.

If you gotta lie to get by, you could die without turnin’ them loose.

There is a way out of this strife. He’s the light and the life and the truth.

There is a way out of this  strife. He’s the light and the life and the truth.

He can change all our minds, heal the blind just by shinin’ on you.

You got a cult of desire, fuil-grown adults settin’ fire to the Constitution for you.

One thousand four hundred sixty-one days were darker while under you. 

Still, I can forgive while there’s grace you can face and surrender to.    

SNAKE IN THE CREEK

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river,

not a fate he might intend.

It’s a mistake to believe there will be ground he can slither on

and make this shipwreck end.

There’ll be a chorus of grief, lotsa “What about me?”

‘til all the hissin’ sends him ‘round the bend.

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river

and I reckon I won’t see him again.

Hey, snake in the creek, can you hear me?

Hey, snake in the creek, I’m your friend.

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river

and I reckon I should whisper “Amen.”

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river

where a reptile finds his rest.

The spring has taken his freedom. He is bound and delivered,

so offended, so distressed.

It’s an unfortunate sight, one you hardly ever see,

and all I feel is just a vague protest

to see a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river,

by the mercy of the water possessed.

Hey, snake in the creek, can you hear me?

Hey, snake in the creek, I’m your friend.

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river

and I reckon I should whisper “Amen.”

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river

where no outlaw can survive.

It’s not too late to believe he can be found and forgiven

if he drops that forty-five.

He’s an incredible thing, widely feared and admired.

Then he felt his final fate arrive.

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river,

and I reckon he won’t come out alive.

Hey, snake in the creek, can you hear me?

Hey, snake in the creek, I’m your friend.

I saw a snake in the creek, rushin’ down to the river

and I reckon I should whisper “Amen.”

HOLY GROUND

I pledge allegiance to the sage and the columbine,

To the ancient twisted pine against the sky.

I pledge allegiance to colors in the wind,

The colors in our skin, and the hopes that rise

In the soul of America.

I pledge allegiance to the Maker of the land,

Shaper of the sand on the canyon rim.

I pledge allegiance to the rivers deep with dreams,

The silver singing streams—they sing to Him

The song of America.

We are on holy ground, we are the children of the dream.

We are the ones who can make it all come true.

We are on holy ground, and Lord of all we see

Has chosen me, and He’s chosen you.

I pledge allegiance to the death of honest men

Whose breath flows on again in the autumn field.

I pledge allegiance in these wild and wasteful years

To the child who breaks in tears and humbly kneels

In the soil of America.

We are oh holy ground, we are the children of the dream.

We are the ones who can make it all come true.

We are on holy ground, and the Lord of all we see

Has chosen me, and He’s chosen you.

He’s calling me, and He’s calling you.

He’s watching me, and He’s watching you.

MINIONS

The king will have minions to color his court,

and gather in praise at his throne.      

But they never join with him in his favorite sport.

They stay home, plotting games of their own.

The nature of minions is to follow the king

and ensure that his vision succeeds.

But these minions surrounding him each have their thing,

and convince him it’s just what he needs.

The minions are circling the emperor’s seat

and casting their nets on his thoughts.

The minions are circling on velvet shod feet

and we don’t know who’s calling the shots.

No, we don’t know who’s calling the shots.

The minions’ opinions on how things should be

buzz like flies ‘round the emperor’s head.

Other minions will swat them to keep his mind free

for their own odious buzzings instead.

The minions are circling the emperor’s seat

and casting their nets on his thoughts.

The minions are circling on velvet shod feet

and we wonder who’s calling the shots.

Yeah, we wonder who’s calling the shots.

The minions have waited for someone like him,

to give their dominion a chance.

They needed a monarch impossibly dim,

one whom praise can beguile like a trance.

The minions are circling the emperor’s seat

and casting their nets on his thoughts.

The minions are circling on velvet shod feet

and we all know who’s calling the shots.

Ah, we all know who’s calling the shots.

TIME TO TAKE THE CAR KEYS AWAY

He thinks Alaska’s part of Russia. and Ukraine is Russian, too.

He sees windmills killin’ pigeons, and they might come after you.

He’s got Haitians eatin’ rations of Rottweiler barbeque.

I think it’s time to take the car keys away.

He gives his minions agencies they hate and wanna freeze.

He sells gold sneakers, bibles, booze, democracy, degrees.

He says “Beat up all the protesters! I’ll pay your legal fees!”

I think it’s time to take the car keys away.

Yeah it’s time. Oh it’s time.

It’s time. Don’t you think it’s time?

It’s time. Don’t you think it’s time

to take the car keys away?

On just one day he said he was the President of France!

The Chancellor of Germany! Before he has the chance

to crown himself the King of England and his sycophants,

I think it’s time to take the car keys away.

You’ve seen him fail to rule his temper. Now he wants to rule the arts,

to clean up the Smithsonian, take history apart.

Let’s put him out to pasture with one or two golf carts.

I think it’s time to take the car keys away.

Yeah it’s time. Oh it’s time.

It’s time. Don’t you think it’s time?

It’s time. Don’t you think it’s time

to take the car keys away?

He throws ketchup on the wall when someone asks him to concede. 

He covers up a garden full of roses with concrete.

He awards the national champions all the Big Macs they can eat.

I think it’s time to take the car keys away.

He may not even fight it.  Who knows how he will feel? 

A lot of years have passed since he was last behind a wheel.

But the street is full of people and the danger’s gettin’ real.

I think it’s time to take the car keys away.

Yeah it’s time. Oh it’s time.

It’s time. Don’t you think it’s time?

It’s time. Don’t you think it’s time

to take the car keys away?  

WELCOME, FAIREST FRIEND

Welcome, welcome fairest friend.

We await no savior else.       

Fold us warm in your wounded wings

and save us from ourselves.

The good witch of Jamaica promised healing for all ills.

We said “Thank you! We will take ya! And surrender you our wills.”

We trusted with abandon as if she were a golden oak.

But she was rooted in the sand, and first she bent and then she broke.

Now the witch howls at our doorway, in a whining, grinding pitch.

She’s robbing from the poor, they say, to feed the swollen rich.

She spreads a jealous table for the scoundrel and the clown.

The poor, if they are able, eat the crumbs that trickle down.

Welcome, welcome fairest friend.

We await no savior else.       

Fold us warm in your wounded wings

and save us from ourselves.

She’s howling from the towers. She’s howling in the halls.

She’s howling for more powers. She howls for higher walls.

She’s howling every hour. She howls and never sleeps.

Asleep, she can’t devour tender hopes, or her lost sheep.

Welcome, welcome fairest friend.

We await no savior else.       

Fold us warm in your wounded wings

and save us from ourselves.

Tell Jamaica that “The witch hunts will continue, though you slip from every snare.

The vengeance that is in you is as weak and pale as air.

“The stranger and the brother hiding from your minions masked

whisper hope to one another. Just a dream is all they ask.”

Welcome, welcome fairest friend.

We await no savior else.       

Fold us warm in your wounded wings

and save us from ourselves.

The world looks on in wonder at the fading of the light,

as the mother ship slips under waves of arrogance and fright.

Two women stand, impressive, at the harbor, at the gate,

one lifts a torch of blessing, one’s a witch with hands of hate.

Welcome, welcome fairest friend.

We await no savior else.       

Fold us warm in your wounded wings

and save us from ourselves.

BORDERLINE

Standin’ at the border of the nation, 

kneelin’ at the border of the day,

hopin’ at the border of creation, 

broke with a coyote to pay. 

Standin’ in the shadow of the border,

kneelin’ in the halo of a dream,

shrinkin’ at the face of law and order,

fulla hope and fresh outa steam.

Out on the borderline

you could be deaf and blind.

No one would ever mind,

‘cause we are, too.

Standin’ at the border of the market,

behind a cardboard sign for all to see.

Bundle up your dignity and park it, 

and look a whole less than you can be. 

Out on the borderline

you could be deaf and blind.

No one would ever mind,

‘cause we are, too.

The baby in your belly’s at the border,

at the border of becoming qualified.

Everyone she sees could be deported

just as if they’d up and died. 

You heard you’re not allowed to work, 

your chidren can’t go to school.

Beggin’ on the corner is your only tool,

the only way of livin’ that’s within the rules.

Go out and do it!

Courage in the face of what you’re fearing,

at the border of humanity and hate.

Just another year until your hearing.

Just another year to learn your fate.

Crossin’ the borderline.

Where is that sweet sunshine, 

some kinda freedom shrine? 

We’ll pray for you. 

If we have paid to pass

through borders made to last,

bounding a hateful past,

pray for us, too?  Pray for us, too.

I WILL SWING MY SWORD

I will swing my sword, a bright song, a sharp word,

I will swing my sword for your freedom.

I have done it before and I’ll do it again.

I will fight to the end for your freedom.

In the halls of joy we were faced with a choice:

to be free or to be protected.

And we all arose and we chose with one voice

on the  day we became elected.

I will swing my sword, a bright song, a sharp word,

I will swing my sword for your freedom.

I have done it before and I’ll do it again.

I will fight to the end for your freedom.

I believe in things I hold dear, I hold true.

I will share them if you will hear them.

But if things I do just don’t matter to you,

it would break me to make you fear them.

I will swing my sword, a bright song, a sharp word,

I will swing my sword for your freedom.

I have done it before and I’ll do it again.

I will fight to the end for your freedom.

You can love who you will, worship trees on the hill,

you can slam me with ill accusation.

But you’re family, so still I believe that your will

is the most precious thing in creation.

I will swing my sword, a bright song, a sharp word,

I will swing my sword for your freedom.

I have done it before and I’ll do it again.

I will fight to the end for your freedom.

I will fight to the end, fight beside you, my friend,

I’ll be broken defending your freedom.

ALPINE HOME

Does the breath of the canyon still sing through the sage?

Can you find sego lillies, like trumpets, like lace?

Does the kindness still flow like the sweet melting snow

from the souls who have chosen to live in this place?

Does the wind hang Lone Peak with a flag of white cloud?

Do the rocks in Fort Creek rattle, laughing out loud?

Are the poppies still blown along the old wall of stone?

Are the wild and the lonely and the poor still allowed

in my Alpine home, Alpine home?  

God bless my Alpine home.

Does the ice drive the deer to the valley to feed?

Are we all driven here for the help that we need?

We have marched through the snows for the dreams we have chosen.

Like Brigham, like Moses, we’re all refugees

in our Alpine home, Alpine home.

God save our Alpine home.

Oh the breath of the canyon still sings through the sage.

You can find sego lillies, like trumpets, like lace.

And the kindness still flows like the sweet melting snows

from the souls God has chosen to give to this place

in our Alpine home, Alpine home.

God bless our Alpine home.