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TALISMAN
(Cummings 1970)

Trinket worn with colors matching saddened eyes
Has lost its magic touch
People from a distant hill
Have crossed an ever-stretching sea of sand
Artificial flowers cannot die
For life within them is illusion

[Chorus]
Talisman, talisman grace my hand
Talisman grace my hand

Figures made of pedigrees
Control the non-existent soul of John Smith
Walk the creature, let it run
But slacken not the rope to which it's bound
Ships in bottles cannot sail
And neither can a tombstone kill a feather

Talisman, talisman grace my hand
Talisman grace my hand

Kings are nothing more without the glory
And the wealth behind their thinking
Let me feel the choice of seeing
Dawn or setting sun before I die
Myriads of painted faces
Rush behind the eye of the uncertain

Talisman, talisman grace my hand
Talisman grace my hand

[spoken]
Let me live only to do
And let me do only to live
My steel image comes with the sun
And that's where it slumbers now

Talisman, talisman grace my hand
Talisman grace my hand


~~~~

SOUR SUITE
(Cummings 1971)

Don't want to listen to my telephone ring
Or sing ding-a-ling or talk about a thing
Not this morning
I don't want to think about the night before
Or maybe it's a bore behind an open door
I've got no time for that this morning
If I had the mind or I had the time
Maybe I could throw together a new kind of rhyme
And tell about my warning

But it's too late now
It's too late now
It's too late now

I don't want to think about a runaway dad
That took away the only thing that I've never had
Don't even miss him this morning
I don't want to think about a cold goodbye
Or a high school buddy got a little too high
I can't help him out this morning
Reviewers laugh at me so I go out to sea
And perhaps it's just as well because I'd rather be in hell
Than be a wealthy man this morning

But it's too late now
It's too late now
It's too late now

Whatever happened to images, because now they're gone
And worn-out phrases just keep a-hanging on
Whatever happened to homes as opposed to houses
The conversation sinks as the evening drowses
It's just like 46201
It's just like 46201

Whatever happened to early morning open skies
And broken faces, half with melting eyes
Enough of riddles that just play with time
Because I'm still here and I can't beg a dime
I'm back here in 46201
I'm back here in 46201
Something better's waiting for me around the corner now
I got to find it and try and hang on for a little while
I'm back here in 46201
There's gotta be a few small changes made
Don't want to listen to my telephone ring
Or sing ding-a-ling or talk about a thing
Leave me alone this morning

---
Both songs composed by Burton Cummings for The Guess Who