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And the wind will whip your tousled hair, The sun, the rain, the sweet despair, Great tales of love and strife. And somewhere on your path to glory You will write your story of a life.

Harry Chapin

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Harry Chapin
Age: 38 †
Born: 1942
Born: December 7
Died: 1981
Died: July 16
Banjoist
Film Director
Guitarist
Musician
Pianist
Singer
Singer-Songwriter
Songwriter
Brooklyn
New York
Harold Forster Chapin
Writing
Sweet
Whips
Love
Wind
Strife
Life
Hair
Tales
Path
Somewhere
Story
Despair
Write
Rain
Stories
Sun
Tousled
Great
Glory
Whip

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If a man tried to take his time on earth and prove before he died, what one man's life could be worth, well I wonder what would happen to this world?
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I come fresh from the street, fast on my feet, kind a lean and lazy not much meat on my bones, and a whole lot alone, and more than a little bit crazy. The old six string was all I had to keep my belly still, and for each full hour lesson I gave I got a crisp ten dollar bill.
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Be involved with the people with the live hearts, the live eyes, who are committed to something.
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It's better sometimes when we don't get to touch our dreams.
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No straight lines make up my life And all my roads have bends There's no clear-cut beginnings And so far no dead-ends.
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I've got nothing against selling out, but just let me do it for something that matters. Not so I can be Number One With a Bullet, as it were, but so I can leave this world feeling like I made a difference.
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And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
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There's a vacancy, won't you come to me And fill my empty spaces I'm a motel man in a promised land That's filled with empty faces So won't you bring your sorrows bring your dreams, It's a place for you to be There's no more tomorrow or that's how it seems Won't you come to me? I've got a vacancy
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Oh, he was the sun burning bright and brittle And she was the moon shining back his light a little He was a shooting star She was softer and more slowly He could not make things possible But, she could make them holy.
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And I know you're frightened By my laughter But you're not afraid To hold my pain You see I'm never sure Just what you're after, Babe But it seems you only love me When it rains. How come you only love me when it rains?
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The major thing I'm afraid of is being 65 and saying, 'Gee, I wish I had done this and that, and that.' I want to face old age knowing I've tried all I wanted to try.
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The reason I fight for the arts as well as against hunger is because the arts are the qualitative way, are the effective way, are the traditional way we learn to make value decisions about who and what we are.
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The reason nobody else in my business has any impact is because they're all comatose.
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He was dancing to some music No one else had ever heard He'd speak in unknown languages She would translate every word And then when the world was laughing At his castles in the sky She'd hold him in her body Till he once again could fly.
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Oh all the times I've listened, and all the times I've heard All the melodies I'm missing, and all the magic words, And all those potent voices, and the choices we had then, How I'd love to find we had that kind of choice again.
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Why were the little girls all frightened To be just what they are The boys were told to ask themselves How high how far The girls were told to reach the shelves While the boys were reaching stars That's why little girls were frightened To be just what they are.
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I finally like myself, at last I like myself.
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You know I need a dream Like I need my breath We need to take the life Before we get the death You know I need your love Like I need the light Yes I need the chance Can it be tonight?
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But you can travel on for ten thousand miles, and still stay where you are.
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Oh God they got you gun shy You know your skin's as cold as ice Your eyes are double filtered babe You're so afraid to be nice There's no way you're ready To let your defenses down Though I won't come on heavy There is a lesson that I've found.
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