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Dream is not a revelation. If a dream affords the dreamer some light on himself, it is not the person with closed eyes who makes the discovery but the person with open eyes lucid enough to fit thoughts together. Dream -- a scintillating mirage surrounded by shadows -- is essentially poetry.

Michel Leiris


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Streets of Braddock
by The Modesto Kid

everything capo 8
(voicing of initial "walk" is a high F)

You're D walking your Am dog through the D streets of Am Braddock,
a D car door Am slams and she Em growls
and she's Am7 nervous Em now, she's pulling D you to the Am park,
I guess you G got an ap- Am -pointment with C7 me there after Em dark.

Somebody's D headlight Am shines through the D evening Am light
streetlights D mellow the Am cast of the Em evening Em7 shade
and you're Am7 nervous Em now, to think of D what may Am come
after your G lame prevari- Am -cations are C7 done and your plans are Em made.

You're walking D up Flood's Am Hill, the shade's D deeper Am now
the D trees are ragged Am shadows on the Em night's dark Em7 cowl
you hear the Am7 sound of a Em train, east- D -bound, running Am easy,
ci- G -cadas are Am buzzing at C7 twilight, and a distant Em howl.

solo, improvise

You're D walking your Am dog through the D streets of Am Braddock,
she D tugs at the Am leash and she Em7 barks
at the Am7 strange night-time Em shapes all a- D -round in the Am park,
I guess you G got an ap- Am -pointment with C7 (let ring) me here after dark.

posted afternoon of Sunday, January 25th, 2015

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