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Michaels Letter
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This has to be the longest song that i've ever recorded, (9:49) - this is also a collaborative work as well, so enjoy.
acoustic rock acoustic folk outlaw son timothy s epperhart outlawsoncom outlaw son music jacksonville songwriter
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Acoustic folk rock. Outlaw Son AKA Timothy S. Epperhart writes plays sings and performs all his own songs, including covers.
Timothy S. Epperhart There are a lot of things that I'm interested in beyond being a musician, a poet or even a crazy person. Sometimes I might spout rhetoric just to see if you'll feed into it. I do that to my folks in real life too. To be honest I would like to post every song I've written with pictures and complete lyrics as I have worked on songwriting these past 10 + years. That work be a definite plus for my fans who have followed my music career. With life and music comes change. I keep an open mind to the world around me usually. I'm by no means so stuck on myself I can't or won't listen to other styles of music. My favorite format and style is probably "Acoustic Rock" - independently driven of course. Independent makes it possible to bloom into something much more than just a has-been on FM radio. I know it might seem a little overwhelming for most folks who get online to search for a song they may like to find a 29 year old man with almost 250 songs available for download. Some people may even be discouraged when they see my list of songs to even listen to one. Then again, some people have told me "Yeah you hear one you hear them all" - and I can completely understand this as I am always going to be me regardless. Anyways so yeah - I've been recording and writing songs for a long time now. That's not to say I actually draw a crowd or whatever when I play out. I really don't. In fact, I hardly ever let the public know that I play out when I do. I've always been this way. I see myself as a recording artist before a performer, performance wise I get all fucked up when I go out in public, I get to drinking. I forget the words to my own songs, because I have so many. It used to be like I could go out and feel good about playing my 5 favorite songs. Now it's like I get on stage and I'm thinking about what I'm going to play and end up just jamming some shit on drop d. There used to be places that I'd love to play who used to actually pay me 100.00 a night to get onstage for a couple hours and just go nuts. I fucking loved playing that bar because they never bullshitted me on my money at the end of the night. The regulars liked me because I used to go in every other day to get drunk, play some pool and hang out, but of course this was back when I was single. Don't get me wrong, I love my fiancee and we usually have a wonderful time, but I never get to get out and play my songs. Even if I did - I'm usually stuck on what I want to play over what I need to I guess.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #1,143
Peak in subgenre #142
Author
Noel Downs
Rights
Noel Downs Copyright 19th April 2005
Uploaded
April 23, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 9.0 MB • 128 kbps • 9:49
Lyrics
As I sat beside my grandmother, I gently held her hand, She turned and said I need a favour, only you will understand, I’ve not long left in this world, so with my love I’m trusting you, She handed me a little book, and said, “You’ll know what to do”! Soon after that she left us, it was then I opened up her gift, An envelope of ash and a letter, were concealed in a book of Keat’s, The book was signed “from a friend”, captioned “words I cannot say” I hoped contained within the letter would be where the answers lay, It started my dearest loving Michael, (Grandpa’s name was George,) You’ll have received a letter from my Father that I ask you to ignore, I don’t know how they learnt our secret, they would not listen to my pleas And Mamma burnt all your letters, to cut you off from me. But I’ve gathered up the ashes, and now I’ll keep them safely hid, So prying eyes can’t see them, and disperse them on the wind. I don’t need to see the words, they are etched in my heart and mind, And to read your love again, I just close my eyes. I’ve been told I cannot ever see you, I won’t fight while I can’t win, They’ve had the preacher calling, so I may confess my sins, Father has said that he’ll disown me, and banish me for life, So private O’Connell come back to me, make me a farmers wife, There was a promise to keep smiling, till they could be joined again, It ended there with loving words, and she had signed her name, I could still see the faintest mark, where she had pressed her lips, So that via military mail, she could send Michael a kiss There was a clipping on the next page, it tore my heart in two, It said Private Michael O’Connell, was killed in action fifteen June. It was the same date as the letter, one he never got to read, And now I understood the favour grandma wished of me, In her will she’d left instructions, to cremate her last remains, And to entrust them to my care, so I could set her free again, With my family on a cliff top, I scatted some ashes on the wind, While grandma waited with the letter, for her final journey to begin. I took a trip to France, and walked among the fallen brave, A green field filled with crosses, in search of a familiar name, At his grave I read the letter, knowing I was because he died, And I scattered Grandma’s ashes, and set the final letter alight. I let go all the ashes, they no longer needed to be hid, No prying eyes can see them, they’ve disperse on the wind. I don’t need to see the words, they are etched in my heart and mind, And to read their love again, I just close my eyes.
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