Examples of Songbay Artists

No matter what part I play
Slow down for me to stay
You will know when it’s right
Our love will shine oh so bright
 
So don’t rush love
Relax and take it slow
Wait and our love will grow
Don’t rush love
 
Let it all out and leave it to fate
. . .

Your feelings are NOT more important than the truth!
Your truth is just high calorie fiction, more food for your fake news addiction
No chance of conviction in this jurisdiction when justice lies in dereliction
Our heroes are celluloid jokes while we're pinning our hopes on folks wearing cloaks
And the school system's up on the ropes
Ignoring the obvious does not sit well with us
When we agree with what they do, Big Media and You Know Who
It makes all that we stand for a hoax.
“Too many guns!”
“Too many guns!”
(Where are the Dads, where are the Moms?)
. . .

(Verse 1)daughter-
From the moment you were born, my precious little one,
A bond was formed, a love that can't be undone.
Through every step you took, and every word you'd say,
I watched you grow, my heart filled with overwhelming grace.
(Chorus)
And the first time I heard you laugh,
Tears of joy filled my eyes, my heart danced in your behalf.
In that moment, I knew a love so pure and true,
My darling daughter, I'll always be here for you.
(Verse 2)
. . .

I'm not universal,
I grab da herbal n da percil,
There's a king n a queen,
I ain't down wid role reversal,
A queen needs class n witt at her dispersal,
Master to roll, puff n pass da purple,
With my nuts in her mouth,
So she lookin like a gerbil,
Together jumping hurdles,
Compiling a lifelong journal,
Mo then best friends,
. . .

I will always hold my head high
You won't be the reason that I'm crying
All those tears are mine to bear
You don't deserve my intimate fears
'Cos life is for the living
And we only get one shot
Love is for the giving
It's this power that we've got
No one forced your hand
No one showed a gun
You're just disappointed
. . .

WHERE THEY SAY YOU CAN BE A STAR
by Tim R. Holifield
HERE WE GO WITH ANOTHER LITTLE DITTY
ABOUT A HOMETOWN GIRL
WHO MOVED OFF TO THE CITY
SHE WAS JUST EIGHTEEN WHEN SHE MOVED AWAY
SHE SAID SHE WAS GONNA MAKE IT BIG SOMEDAY
WITH ALL OF HER HOPES AND DREAMS IN A BOX
ALONG WITH HER JEANS AND HER FAVORITE PAIR OF SOCKS
EVERY SINGLE DAY SHE HIT THE STREETS
COMING HOME WITH BLISTERS ON HER FEET
. . .

I buried myself in the bottom of the bottle
Thought if I drowned myself no one would notice
I was crying out for attention, but no one would listen
I was desperate to be seen, but I went unnoticed
So I drank
I drank the whole thing
Maybe it was wrong
Maybe it was right for me at the moment
I didn’t feel good, but I felt great
If I could pour another jack, maybe my life wouldn’t be so jacked
So I drank
. . .

"Permission to go Fishin'"
(i)
Never saw it comin', but then again I never thought,
That day in Wal-Mart,
Filling up our shopping cart,
Was not who she really was.
She always said, "baby I love to fish",
Then we said those vows down on the bay.
The story changed, and the babies came -
There wasn't anything left to say.
Not knowing what laid in store...
. . .

ARE WE ALL ONE
(Chorus)
Please please choose whose side you’re on
Choose the dove or choose the gun.
Please please choose whose side you’re on
Aren’t we all one, aren’t we all one.
(Verse 1)
Now it’s time to get right back
To the other side of the beaten track
When you decide what’s best for you
Then you’ll know just what to do
. . .

What a thing. What’s going on—my king? Nothing more than some; things
Well, I can hear some people asking, every time they’re passing, tell me what’s going on my king. The very same old, worn, and outdated question; tell me what's gone wrong with him. All they got was this same one-word answer, when I have to tell them; things
Everybody wants to know what's going on—Prince. “What’s the matter with him?” Tell me what is wrong with everyone this evening? The answer has always been the same. Same as it was the last time, that even I must sometimes go out and do some; things. What a thing?
Woke up early morning, ran inside the kitchen, to light a little fire and thing. Now watch the fire blaze, under the kettle base. To get me through the high morning. Bringing it to the boil, and over something nice. Like Blue Mountain coffee beans.
What a thing! What’s going on—my king? Nothing more than some; things
Well, I ran down to the river to freshen up and wash skin, and take my morning swim. Then sit upon a limb with my little box string to over-run two lyrics and sing. A little song I wrote over a haunting note, to lively up the place on Sting. What a thing!
Now here’s the point I make to those standing at my gate, enquiring as to what’s at stake. I told them idle hands are great to play with demon’s plate and break out chasing litigate. The takeaway that’s worth, waiting for, of course, is that we must all go do some; things. What a thing!
What a thing. What’s going on—my king? Nothing more than; things. That’s what really going on with him. Rep.
. . .