ROSETTA PEBBLE

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album coverROSETTA PEBBLE: Stories That The World Once Told

A gentle gem of singer-songwriter craft. Each earthy track is a world in itself, worth exploring and getting to know. Before long, you're in the know, and this collection will seem a part of your neighborhood youíll want to visit again and again.

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album coverROSETTA PEBBLE: Clear Across Summer

Music that sticks to the roof of your heart, and also gets your toes tapping. Sweet acoustic ballads interspersed among power pop. Stradivarius meets Stratocaster; sarcasm meets serenity; summer meets fall. Rosetta Pebble unravels the riddle.

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Scroll down for Rosetta Pebble lyrics.

01. From Now On. Could you be my morning? Could you be my favorite song? Could you be my one thing right? When everything is wrong? Could you be my evening? Could you be my midnight sun? Could you be my thousand dreams? Made real and folded into one? From now on. From now on. the dream plays on sweeter than the song. From now on.

02. Here I Am. Under the stars I stop to smile. Kind of a trick the way the sky will bring itself back from bible-black to blue. None of them really goes away But often in what we call ďthe dayĒ theyíre outshined by one weíre closer to. Here I am. Iím right here, right now, right where I should be. Right here, right now, right out where you can see. Watching the darkness slowly deepen. Hours away the dawn will creep in. Maybe the light of day might help me see All the mistakes that Iíve been making, all the less traveled roads Iíve taken. Havenít they brought me where Iím supposed to be? Here I am. Iím right here, right now, right where I should be. Right here, right now, right out where you can see. Took a tumble, but I landed on my feet and my bubble hasnít burst. In the game of life I really donít compete. Someone else can finish first. Here I am. Iím right here, right now, right where I should be. Right here, right now, right out where you can see.

03. Another Placeís Rain. Oh the cloud let go on the music show on a song that everyone knows. Bye, bye, Miss American Pie. Watch Ďem run for the roof to get dry, but not you and I. Iím thinking of days when Iíve known the rain. How it came down calling on, falling on me. Call it home by another name. Soaked to the bone again Iím lost in the moment when Iím there to taste another placeís rain. (A long, long, long, time ago) Iím walking to school in a yellow rubber coat and a pair of galoshes to boot. Hop over a puddle like a castle moat. Try floating a dandelion boat. Tiny sun shining on a shallow sea while the sky keeps falling on me. Thatís when I felt it first. Sympathy in a wild cloud burst. Seemed like nothing else could ease my thirst quite like the taste of another placeís rain. Under an umbrella back in Germany itís my old best buddy and me. A couple of thumbs on an Autobahn run trying to get to London for free. Watching all of Germany drive on by. Backseats looking warm and dry. Windshield wipers waving hello, hello, and helloÖ Goodbye to a time and place. A younger heart and a younger face turned to the sky to find some grace and just to taste another placeís rain. Rain, rain, go away, or stay, I can take it either way. And it stoned me to my soul. Stoned me just like jelly roll, and it stoned me. And it stoned me to my soul Stoned me just like goiní home, and it stoned me. I want to know, have you never seen the rain?

04. Deeper Water. Beside the shore, with all her pictures from before, she scatters them among the stars. They float along like words that sail upon a song. then fade to blue for evermore. She sees the round moon rise both in the sea and in the sky. As full as Sorrowís favorite daughter. And as the daylight dies, and evening softens in her eyes, sheís back where all goodbyes have brought her. Watching, waiting, holding on. Having lived enough to know that there is deeper water thereÖ Across the bay, he leaves his canvas for the day. Another sunset standing still. He wants to make it shine like that bright ball on the horizon line that sinks and brings him down with it until he sees the round moon rise both in the sea and in the sky, as full as Sorrowís favorite son. Walking on he tries, but walking on cannot disguise that another night has just begun. Watching, waiting, holding on, having lived enough to know that there is deeper water thereÖ Along the way, two people closing out the day. A smile can be the sweetest stranger. They see the round moon rise.

05. One More Wave. Down here on my knees, disintegrating by degrees, one more wave might be the one that takes me. Out to sea once more, Iím an eddy in a steady storm. One more wave might be the one that wakes me. One more wave. In up to my neck, shackled to a sinking wreck, one more wave might be the one that takes me. Down into the deep, like a promise I could never keep, one more wave might be the one that breaks me. I know what you said. Itís all in my head, but were the semantics or the antics simply misinterpreted? One more wave. In over my head, how much longer can I tread? One more wave might be the one that takes me back up on the shore- the same sandy steps that I made before. One more wave might be the one that wakes me. I know what you said. Itís all in my head, but were the semantics or the antics simply misinterpreted? One more wave.

06 Knuckle Boy. School kids staring out a window, warm May morning, long ago. Daydreams blowiní on the breezes, summerís teasing undertow. Teacher calls out for attention, brand-new student, all heads rise. Itís a double-jointed knuckle boy, and his bear with a jacket-button eye. Everyone has a story and a story is sometimes no more than just the pictures that you keep in your mind. Everybodyís a story and a story is sometimes no more than just a picture inside. I guess Iíll never really know just how he made his knuckles go. A double-jointed knuckle show it was a recess parking lot surprise. The double-jointed knuckle boy and his bear with the jacket button eye. Baseball sunny afternoon, all day freedom, end of June. All the neighbor kids are there with abandoned shirts and abandoned care. Look whoís heading out to right field, bright red wagon right behind. Itís the double-jointed knuckle boy, and that bear with the jacket button eye. One bright swollen morning, not a word of warning, a moving van pulls into a drive. Clanky gear-shift sound, window rolling down, one small hand is waving goodbye. Goodbye. Summer days begin to fade, and soon the school bell sings again. Push your legs into your long pants, squirm against the regimen. Faces settle into place, and solemnly all realize. No double-jointed knuckle boy, no bear with the jacket button eye. Now Iíve seen my share of classrooms, seen my share of days gone by. Seen a million different faces, seen some brilliant moments die. But whoís that knocking on my memory from the porch steps of my mind? Never fading, never changing, always ageless, always spry. On the ready out in right field, sprung to catch one on the fly. The reappearing knuckle boy And that bear with the jacket button eye.

07.The Way The Day Goes By. Morning sun, she sails across the sky Watch the way the day goes by. Afternoon, a sailing song that hopes to find a tune It will soon Watch the way the day goes by Whatís ahead and all thatís behind We are sailing off on compass points in time You have been my truest friend Since we left the shores of darkness And we sail until the darkness comes again Evening comes. A sunset song that sinks into a hum It says to me: Watch the way the day goes by.

08. Summerís Mine. Iím sitting in my favorite chair Iíve got my coffee, Iíve got time, and baby I donít care Just like a shadow on a summer day I can be right there when you want me, and I wonít get in the way I think it might be half past June I havenít seen a calendar for days, but come and look at the moon My wrists are naked but Iíve got the time. Iíll never be a millionaire, but I know summerís mine And itís not about the money Iím grateful for the days that Iím given when itís sunny Iíve got all this all this time, and thatís the greatest pay in oh so many ways. What ever happened to July? I can feel September in these shadows and August slipping by But as I labor through my winter days, waiting for the sun to shine It puts a spring in my step. I know summerís mine.

09. Future Tense. She can talk to angels. She can see the signs. Thatís the way she is. She can hear the spirits whisper in the pines. Echoes I might miss. She shows me her crystal ball, but Iím still on the fence. If I let my present pass, I wonder will she make my future tense? She says Iím a young soul. Sheís been here before. I donít understand. She says Iím a cynic; slamming open doors in her spirit clan. They find magic everywhere except in my defense. If I let my present pass, I wonder will she make my future tense? Something makes me nervous about I becoming we, and something makes me nervous about us replacing me. Pronouns and dependent clauses; whys and wheres and whens. If I let my present pass, I wonder will she make my future tense?

10. Doesnít Help Me. Sometimes I get tired, and sometimes I get so mixed-up. Sometimes I get wired, and sometimes the coffee in my cup doesnít help me. Sometimes I get wild, and sometimes I get so bogged down. Sometimes I get childish. Sometimes pretending Iím the clown doesnít help me. And as we head into the Fall I slip away and play. The writingís on the wall. Sometimes I feel stranded, and sometimes I feel so scot-free. Sometimes I feel branded, and sometimes this anonymity doesnít help me. Sometimes I feel biased, and sometimes I feel so naÔve. Sometimes I feel pious, and sometimes that kind of make-believe doesnít help me. And as we head into the fall I slip away and play. The writingís on the wall

11. Much to my Surprise Much to my surprise, I came upon some truth right behind my eyes. It could happen to you. Sunday morning rain; Sunday evening sun; Monday morning train; New journey begun. Time set aside, Iím no longer waiting for something else to show, for something else to know... Other than this. Thereís a story told, hear it on the wind. The beggar on a box of gold is finally looking within. Sunlight on these silver rails through the city sound asleep. ďHere and now,Ē hear the whistle blow. ďHere and now,Ē on into the flow. Here and now is all we ever know. Much to my surprise I came upon some truth, right behind my eyes. It could happen to you.

12. When I Write My Song For You. When I write my song for you, itíll come along so easy and so true. When I write my song for you, it just might be the best I ever do. When I write my song for you, Iím gonna hear it in my heart before my fingers ever find it. When I write my song for you, it may never make a penny, but I donít think that youíll mind it. It will say how you finally found me. It will say how your days turn around me. It will say how your world now surrounds me. Oh, itís true. When I write my song for you. When at last this dream comes true, weíll be stepping over clouds; thereíll be no reason for a sidewalk. When at last this dream comes through, we will gather all the gold; we wonít even need a beanstalk. Itís the way that I finally found you. Itís the way that my days turn around you. Itís the way that my world now surrounds you. Oh, itís true. When I write my song for you. Long, lonesome day, be on your way now, youíve had your say. Long, lonesome night, itís time to know that everything is all right. When I write my song for you, itíll jiggle with your rhythm and your rhyme. When I write my song for you, itíll warm you like a dream of summertime. It will say how you finally found me. It will say how your days turn around me. It will say how this whole thing still astounds me . Oh, itís true. When I write my song for you.

13. Things. I never use this pen; it was a present from a friend, but we donít write each other anymore. Postcards in a box, beneath some old photographs and socks, were written with it many years before. But now the big things have become little things. I never wear this ring, itís just a trinket from a fling. The shine wore of so many years ago. Symbols on the shank have worn away and left a blank. The emptiness is sweetly apropos. Because the big things have become little things. Itís never easy starting over. Strangers are so seldom what they seem. Iím finding out as I grow older- memories will tarnish when you hold on to the wrong part of the dream. The big things have become little things and the little things they donít matter. And we let them slide.

14. Go! You can count on me when you find your way back home. Thatís a guarantee. When youíre tired and all alone, stay as long as you like, and when youíre ready to leave... go! If you want to wander, if you want to roam. If you trust the wanderlust, the world will be your home. When you want to vanish or want to disappear, grab your pack and donít look back, and while the coast is clear... go! Get out while you can, baby. Go! You can count on me, because you know Iíve been there too, and to some degree, my mistakes can be your clues. Stay as long as you like and when youíre ready to leave... go! ©2005 steven gulian/ rosetta pebble

15. Wobbly on the Wire. Coming down again to see you. Coming down again today. Coming down again to be with you. Coming down to find away. Well, it seems to me this dream could be the story of a lifetime. Oh, following the fire. With a feeling in my bones that Iím surrounded but still all alone. It makes me wobbly on the wire. Coming down to face the music. Coming down around the bend. Coming down to take my chances. Coming down to find a friend. If I had blinded eyes and ears of tin, and bandages to seal my skin, nothing would get in. But to burn inside a frozen fire of this unspoken soulís desire. makes me wobbly on the wire.

16. Halfway Home Halfway home or so, he hears a song he used to know an echo from a life heís left behind. An exit ramp rolls into sight; he starts to drift from left to right, but as he sings he doesnít see the signs. He never takes that exit in the daylight. Halfway home is no place he belongs, and if he thought about it, heíd just drive on by. But halfway home he fell into a song. Upon that old familiar street whose memories are bittersweet, the gravel crunches underneath his tread. A television casting light; two silhouettes enjoy the night- a broken record spinning in his head. Itís a mark he canít erase, like a step he canít retrace Or comment better left unsaid like a lesson never learned on a bridge heís better burn itís a letter better left unread. A song can take us far away and then pull us back when weíre astray. Music has a gravity its own. Back upon the interstate he calls to say heís running late. The music stops; the engine sings alone. He never takes that exit in the daylight. Halfway home is no place he belongs, and if he thought about it, heíd just drive on by. But halfway home he fell into a song.

17. I Love Her. Here I am, trying to be a man. Trying to make the most of a losing hand. I love her. I love her because her disarming smile shuts my defenses down. She's not afraid to walk a mile, or sleep on the ground She's forgiven me my inability or unwillingness to just grow up and be a full-time adult with a coffee cup. Because when the going's rough, she laughs just like my dad, and knows how to spread a smile when folks are feeling sad. I love her.

18. Away Out of circulation. Out across the lake Blessed isolation. Was it hard to break away? Were the frozen waters just icing on your cake? Nothing lasts forever. Was it hard to take away? Finding birthday candles in the Northern Lights When it came to wishing, did you get it right away? Out of circulation did it slip your mind? If it ever hits you, tell me if you find a way.

19. Youíre All I See. Youíre all I see. Youíre everything to me. Let all the rest of it be. Youíre all I see. The world and all of its ways... the dusty gunflint days... have all but faded away each time I seem to hear you say youíre all I see, youíre everything to me. Let all the rest of it be. Youíre all I see. Another day, another start, sometimes itís hard to pull ourselves apart. Weíre off and running patterns in the plan. But when the work is done, the evening comes, the daytime race is run. Iíd trade it all in just to hold your hand. Youíre all I see, youíre everything to me. Let all the rest of it be. Youíre all I see. Letís take a leave from the light And all the many-colored dreams weíre chasing. Havenít reached them all yetÖstill might And all the wrong we hope will turn out right is on its own tonight.

20. Where Do We Go From Here? You may remake the map of your world. Check all these shells for pearls, but where do we go from here? And you might try the sky for a sign. Unwind these ties that bind, but where do we go from here? Or you might open your eyes and you might find that all this time your song ran deep inside while you were treading water on an ocean that you made in your mind. And you might feel the tug of the war, with all the ghosts that came before. Where do we go from here? You watch the waves break onto your shore and let them roll to sea once more. Where do we go from here? And you might open your eyes and you might find that all this time your song ran deep inside while you were treading water on an ocean that you made in your mind. We might open our eyes and we might hear our own songs rise. Hearts starting up their tunes again. Hearts starting up their music. When we find that weíve been blind and walk across the waters of the oceans that we make in our minds. And as I stand and stare at the sea, I feel you rolling back to me. Where do we go from here?

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