Shiny shoes and suits and crunching numbers
Black and white it’s late he’s working Sundays
Shirt and tie and working smiles it’s always the same
And every day is nothing new
Saw his busy life running off of the rails
Running for the train (he) saw the blues resonator
Then a photograph lying there on the table
With that same guitar
Look who’s playing
That’s your generation
Time to pick up this old guitar
The silver resonator kept returning
Desire in his heart it started burning
Then he felt the urge to turn the radio on
And then his fingers played that song
Saw his lonely life crunching numbers was fading
Great granddaddy’s arms they were cradlin’ the baby
Fingers moving fast and the music was crazy
With that same guitar
Blues are playing
That’s your generation
Time to pick up this old guitar
You never played it like you did that evening
Granddaddy looking at you and smiled
Playing the blues like you never
Playing it forever
Found the family treasure
Found a photograph lying there on the table
Saw your father’s granddaddy cradlin’ his baby
Now the blues are groovin’, your fingers are playin’
With that old guitar
Now you’re playing
That’s your generation
(The) moment you found that old guitar
Hurrying home on a Sunday evening
Granddaddy looking down and he smiled
Playing the blues like you never
Playing it forever
Found the family treasure

Lyrics by Amos Clarke

My friend Raymond joined the world
bouncing baby boy, a head of curls
mother labored one more hour
patiently to hold him in her arms
Sixty minutes, every time
one delay or another he’d find
to arrive punctual was impossible
Father Time had other plans for him, he would find
School days followed, he was smart
To be on time, Raymond tried with heart.
He was tardy none the less
with an hour lost he’d pass the test
Sixty minutes, every time
One delay or another he’d find
To arrive punctual was impossible
Father Time had other plans for Raymond
Consequence would be his
on his wedding day instead of bliss
He found empty pews, the guests had gone
The girl he loved could not wait that long.
One short hour mattered less
As a writer, Raymond found success
Never married, he would find
lonely writers have the gift of time.
Sixty minutes, every time
One delay or another he’d find
To arrive punctual was impossible
Father Time had other plans for Raymond.
He grew old, when Death called
to retire Raymond to his end.
But he found himself one hour late
Grimm Reaper left empty handed, irate.
Three hundred years have passed, he’ll never change his ways.
Never, never, never
Sixty minutes saves you from The Reaper if you’re always delayed.
Sixty minutes saves you from The Reaper if you’re always delayed.

Story by Juan José Legarda
Lyrics by Racquel Roberts

Saturday morning
Beautiful day
I’m lying on the floor
It flashed before my eyes
My lucid double life
The finished chore
He played all the clubs
She played all of the people
(A) sweeter guy you would never have known
Had a smooth tenor voice
The kind that made all of the ladies cry
Dorothy
Please call me Billy, ‘coz it works for me
(The) Jazz man
No, he’s not hiring girls today
So, I led this ‘double life’
Now I’m the Poster Boy
Pretty Betty and his Kitty
Oh the boys
I love you
Oh my Cavaliers
How I’ll miss you
The Tipton Trio to-o
The Liberace show
I had to let it go
To hide my ruse
‘The love of my life’
How Betty she remembered
Though the sad accident was a lie
‘Can’t help lovin’ dat man’
It was the movie that would make me cry
Dorothy
Billy’s the name because it has to be
(The) Jazz band
Oh, they’re not hiring girls today
Now I’ve lost Sweet Georgia Brown
And Benny Goodman too
A friendlier guy
you’d never find one
Oh it’s true
We loved you
Dorothy
My name is Billy and it works for me
(The) Jazz man
He’s only hiring boys today
No more playing double life
Now I am ‘Flying Home’
Everybody knew that
Jazz was a man’s world
We loved you

Lyrics by Amos Clarke

Tapping out the beat
Grandfather is in the olden days
Fingers on the keys
They've been down these paths so many different ways
the promises we make

Grandfather, why do you labour
when we're in the modern times
Granddaughter this typewriter
is my old friend and here she stays.

Luis shakes his head,
opening the door to write again
Frozen in surprise
There upon his desk the alien machine
with love from Angeline)

Grandfather, I love you, And I
want you to see what I see
Granddaughter I hear you, but your
Future science will steal my words away

Old Luis
wakes in a fright
tap, tap
a ghost in the night is writing'
jumps up
runs to his room to find machines
sleeping side by side

Every single night
Tapping out the beat into his dreams
Turning on the light
Crashing through the door the same impassive scene
the old and new machines

Granddaughter, please help me can you
hear them typing every night
Grandfather this story is the
strangest tale you've ever told to me

Old Louis
wakes in a fright
tap, tap
the ghosts in the night are fighting
jumps up
runs to his room to find that his
beautiful gift destroyed

Grandfather, what happened?
The new world I bought you torn apart
Granddaughter I'm sorry but my
Typewriter was jealous from the start

Grandfather what do you take me for?
We're in the modern age.
Granddaughter, this crazy
old machine is mine
and here she'd better stay

Lyrics by Dan Maitland based on a short story by Luis Escalante

With the fading sunlight
She’ll materialize
Watch her drifting towards you
Through the smoke in your eyes

She could kill in that dress
Wonder if she has?
In the twilight hours
She’ll take all that you have

When the lights go out
She will come alive again
With a smile and a wink
She is not what you think
But she’s everything you’re dreaming of

When the lights go out
Is it real or just pretend?
Under cover of night
With the moon shining bright
You will swear the music doesn’t lie
Till the fantasy comes to an end
And Miss Otis disappears again
She disappears again

Lyrics by Chris Cron

the Asian girl sat quietly, still, alone.
all around her a building of a future home.
hands on her knees, distant gazing
at peace with the noise, she was amazing
she brought an enigma to this dusty place

not a single movement or a glance away
a commanding presence she controlled the scene
for two weeks She poised like a statue
for two weeks I obsessed as I watched you
you brought the mystery to this crazy place .

She appeared
and She said
not a word

two long weeks I watched her sitting there
bodhisattva with the silent stare
not a gesture, not a word to share
never for a moment did She leave the chair

Then She disappeared unexpectedly
left me with my obsession and my worry
She shone like a beacon in this sepia place

and stood
walked away
all alone

14 days I watched her sitting there
bodhisattva with the silent stare
the peaceful girl suddenly disappeared
nowhere to be found, I'm searching everywhere

and then she reappeared
out of thin air
walking so determinedly
I suddenly understood her broken stare

Oh, why did I speculate
I must have lost my mind
all of my conjecturing
no time did I realize the girl was blind