Beatrice & The Nine Muses

by Riverman

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released December 1, 2014

All songs written, performed, and produced by Riverman


all rights reserved



Riverman Orlando, Florida

Steve Hedrick is a singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. He lives in Orlando, Fl with his wife and two children. He is currently working on new material and will post it when it's finished.

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Track Name: A Pure Thyonian
Oh come out of your shell
Pretty drinker, in the corner,
Why do you stare down your glass of merlot?
The conversation started too slow
But now the room starts to spin...
You'll fit right in...
Just have another one and it'll come...

What are you going to say to yourself in the morning
With a song in your heart you know nothing about?
"A hair of the dog"
And you'll slog through the day...
It's no wonder you'll say,
When you've got to keep from getting down...

"We painted the town, we painted the town!
... or I really think so..."

Oh what'll it be?
Straight-no-chaser? A boiler-maker?
I know that it's been rough today...
And the band's just starting to play!
It's time to begin...
You'll fit right in
Just have another one and it'll come...
Have another one...

What are you gonna say to yourself when you wake up
And find out your guests have all left you alone?
A moment too soon and you're out of your room
But you're still in your gown...
You've gotta keep from getting down!

"We painted the town, we painted the town...
Or I really think so...."
Track Name: Beatrice I
It was in the days when outside looking in-
A premonition you'd be coming back this way again
Riding on the tails of every shooting star
You pushed me too far, I pushed you too far too...

But I am just a messenger
You were out of range
You walk across the aisle
I fall off of the stage
I know it's got to end
I know it's got to end
But Beatrice you're just around the bend....

It was all a haze, a literary mess
Sometimes disclaimers are a writer's best defense...
And were you that blue bird sitting on the fence?
That was out of context
I am out of content too...

And I am just a messenger
You were all the rage...
A recurring theme, you're there on every page...
I know it's got to end,
I know it's got to end,
But Beatrice you're just around the bend...

I am just a messenger... don't shoot!
I am just a messenger... don't shoot the messenger!

It was in the night, my head was on the bar...
You pushed me too far
I pushed you too far too...
Track Name: The Safety Net
Angelina walks a straight line, a straight line... Angelina.
Angelina is a high flier, on the high wire... Angelina.

And she is the belle of the ball
But Angelina's destined to fall...

Angelina, calculating, contemplating Angelina...
Angelina, hesitating... why’s she waiting? Angelina...

And she is the belle of the ball
But Angelina's destined to fall...

See her there, her hair all in tangles
Her limbs in opposing angles, Angelina!
Hers was the greatest of numbers!
So long! Now everyone wonders Angelina...
Can you still hear them roar?
Angelina's down on the floor....
You can't see her anymore
Angelina's down on the floor....

Track Name: Militat Omnis Amans
The dandelions and my bated breath
Tired face and faithful loneliness
On endless sentry guarding your address
Both cure and cause of my unrest...

Lay low, I may survive
But every lover risks his life while singing, singing
“If I go down I'm gonna go down swinging!”

Enemies bear gifts to catch your eyes
Their arrows aimed, they're tipped with hollow lies
Erase their footsteps with their alibis
A clever story or a good disguise...

Look out, they're at your door!
I'll take them on and beg for more while singing, singing
“If I go down, I'm gonna go down swinging!”

Front line mantras ringing "On the move!
Join the ranks or embrace solitude!"
A woman's love is worth the chance to prove
Twelve labors empty, give me thirty-two...

When at war, I can't complain
Lovers are soldiers, "God bless the campaign!" I'm singing, singing
And if I go down, I'm gonna go down swinging!
Track Name: The Unholy Baptism of Jean-Paul Marat
Drip the faucet (drip, drop)
Tiles, slippery two-step (drip, drop)
Ticking clock...
He died...
This is familiar,
The signed, fixed, brother....
The pool, the pen,
The blood, the green rug....
The art...
What happened Charlotte?
Going under... Charlotte...
Going under...
Track Name: The Ballad of Lena Baker
Ernest Knight, you're a devil!
A smooth talking fellow
Distinguished even nursing your new wound...
And you used your wealth, to take advantage of the hired help
But you were consumed....

And Lena you're no angel
You could drink me beneath the table,
Unbecoming for a mother of forty-three...
But that wouldn't do, to prove a streak of malice in you,
So what's your plea?

Ernest Knight, I'd curse the sight of you
For doing the things that you do
You swagger, it's your way, with a pistol and a temper barely kept at bay...
You took her in the mill, you turned the lock and you sprang for the kill,
Was it a thrill? Or a surprise?
When you caught that bullet between the eyes?
A grim distinction in keeping with the times....
And how time flies!

Judge Worrill what's the hurry?
An all-white, all male jury?
And a case that was tried in a single day...?
Represented by her peers,
She’d have served the better half of 20 years...
Why’d she have to pay...
In that good old fashioned way?!

And so that night Cuthbert shuttered
At the words that Lena uttered,
She was at peace with the God that gave her life...
And the lights of Cuthbert flickered
And the citizens all snickered, "Tonight that Lena Baker fries!"
They strapped her to the chair, a surge went up and out her every hair
At her demise...
It took them three tries!

Six decades of denial
The Board of Pardons picked up the file
And decided they'd issue a reprieve...
Which Lena can't enjoy
Like any scapegoat or a whipping boy...
What the hell?!
But who can tell, Lena Baker this time....
Track Name: Oja on Sunday
Je reconnais ton visage, je sais comment tu t'appelle
C'est un nome misterieux vraiment...
Marchant dans la rue le dimanche matin
En ete, en hiver tout de meme...

Ah Oja, la plus charmante

Toute en silence, les tetes tourne ensemble
Quand tu passe les mains tremblent aussi
Les artistes, les charlatannes attendent avec espoir
La chance de te voir

Ah Oja, la plus charmante

Je t'en pris, sois a l'heure!
J'attends encore!
Qu'est-ce que je ferais...?
J'attends encore... mais...

Ton image est grave sur mes yeux
Et ta voix chante dans mes oreilles
Ton nom est dessine sur mon couer
Il y sera suspendu toujours...

Ah Oja, la plus charmante

Est'ce que je reve toujours?
Ou est la preuve encore?
Viens mademoiselle
Vraix ou faux, oui ou non
Je t'aime...
Track Name: Abelard & Héloïse
The rain was pouring on the day we met
You were pouring over your Greek alphabet
A moment passed, the sky collapsed the roof
A telling tale, if I ever needed proof…

A teacher paid to be so near
A father of the church, it would appear
A noble cause, but blind will lead the blind
A troubled cure for a young and troubled mind…

When our inner demons
Come about
We can let ‘em out…
Or let ‘em in…
And Héloïse, where have you been?

Living my philosophy
Confident in man, confident in me
Arguing a point no one could win…
How many fallen angels will dance upon a pin?

The hope of heaven and the fear of hell
An interim, I fear it just as well…
Life and love don’t come with guarantees
Look me in the eye and kiss me Héloïse!

When our inner demons
Come about
Just let ‘em out!
Don’t let ‘em in…
And Héloïse, where have you been?

I lost it all, in a conflict with your kin
Which things define the weaker sex from men…
The first of two profound calamities,
Robbed me of myself, in robbing you from me…

But the rain was pouring on the day we met
A sign perhaps from that great architect
It’s His to give and His to take away…
He did his worst, what else is there to say?
A holy man, a monk, or saint
A gentle lady lacking in restraint,
May He who made you look upon your sin
Open up the gates and let you in…

When our inner demons
Come about
We can let them out
Or let them in

Like Abelard and Héloïse
Abelard and Héloïse
Abelard and Héloïse
Abelard, Peter Abelard...
Track Name: The Holy Ghost Ascending
It was our last supper on a terrace laced in finery on a wanton sea;
Sweet perfumed petals warmed a creaking bed
Of northern whittled wood for a Caribbean gem...
It was good…
And all that I could see
Was mirrored in her dark eyes blinking
The lamps across the port,
I knew what she was thinking
Her mouth agape
Undulating kisses from the outcrop of the cape...
They were good...
The night stretched its fingers across the door
And gripped the pillow, that’s what it’s there for...
And in a quiet, newly-formed beatitude,
What we were making, we were making good...
Sheltered from a worldly gloom, we spent the night and shared a room,
I swear I saw from just beyond the bed
The Holy Ghost ascending...

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