WordWulf

Hey September!

We’ve been in the studio, working, writing, and remixing. Finally came up with an album which includes Across the Years, Cold Winter Eyes, Curse of Days, Death Chords, Farewell Captain Charlie, Hell’s Kitchen, Runaway, Sometimes, and Legend of New Horse. Just got the following text from Tommy. We’re ready to rock!

Here is da stuff. The cd releases at midnight, September 20th. It will be available on all of the major streaming sights (Spotify, I-tunes, Amazon, Pandora, TikTok, Youtube, Facebook). I think it is $7.99 for the full album or .99 per song.

Plays Today on Number One Music:
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Great numbers today! Thank-you for the plays and requests.
You can also email me personally at wordwulf@link I’d be glad to send you your favorite song, video or song art. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link
Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at any of the links below or just google WordWulf!
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Plays Today:
371
Total Plays:
1,305,283
Profile Views:
1,573,936

Great numbers today! Thank-you for the plays and requests.
You can also email me personally at wordwulf@link I’d be glad to send you your favorite song, video or song art. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at any of the links below or just google WordWulf!
link
link
link
Facebook
Facebook
Instagram
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Hello World,

Sorry it’s been so long since I communicated to you. I lost my brother, Jack (first bass player in my first band) to COVID, December 19, 2019. I struggled for three years trying to save him from Leukemia and the state of Colorado. We lost. I got horribly ill after that, diagnosed with congenital heart disease, kidney disease, sepsis, and cancer. Had a kidney removed and fighting to get my strength back.
The good news is, while convalescing, I’ve been sorting through hundreds of rehearsal tapes. I’ve discovered a mountain of work that fell through the cracks over the years. As soon as I get my feet back firmly on the ground and that weak and wimpy old man sound out of my voice, we have a ton of material to work on.

Death in Small Houses

Little child, don’t hide your tears away
Bits and pieces
bits and pieces
bits and pieces
Run away, just as fast as you can
You’d better run, run away
if you think that you can
You’d better run

Sleeping like an angel
floating down from heaven
If daddy’s been out drinking
all sleep will turn to screaming
And the sparks will fly
when he slaps your face
Fire lights inside your head
Momma cries as babies fall
until he goes away again
Bits and pieces
bits and pieces
bits and pieces
Run away, just as fast as you can
You’d better run, run away
if you think that you can
You’d better run

Daddy, Daddy, hold me,
oh, Momma, Momma
I’ll love you forever
forever is near
The baby is quiet
gone to the rainbow
Hunger is over
fountain of pain
I’ll never tell but I will remember
A hundred miles inside me
there’s a slow fire burning
gone burning forever
I’m bits and pieces
bits and pieces
I’m bits and pieces
bits and pieces
Say death in small houses
Say death in small houses
Say death

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Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2021 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2021 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to Reverb Nation. They are on sale there for .99 each. You can also email me personally at wordwulf@link I’d be glad to send you your favorite. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at link.
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This is a piece I have been working on for many years. I was involved in a music project with my youngest brother, The Boone Dalton Band. My nine-year-old son, Tommy, came into the studio and handed me a chord progression he had worked out. My brother and I messed around with it a bit and I wrote the lyrics then set it aside. Boone Dalton was a high-octane rock and roll band, not interested in performing love ballads. A couple of weeks ago, Tommy, a father now with two sons and a baby girl of his own, suggested we dust it off and give it a shot. We're still working on it. The timelessness of the process is a bit scary to me but wonderful for the same reasons. Music is the circle that never ends. Listening to that young man wrap fingers around chords he put together when he was a boy brings a tear to my eye and makes me want to break something.

~Dream Don't~

Walking through the realm of time
living on these dreams of mine
all alone in a world of changing
can’t believe I need arranging
Saw my face through windblown shadow
looking at your eyes a man knows
you are the woman

Felt my heart melt into you
do you love me, love me, do you
If I’m sleeping, Lord don’t take me
felt your breathing; please don’t wake me
Oh you’re real, what’s happened to me
I’ve learned to feel, what are you to me
you are the woman

You are the woman, you are the woman
dream don’t, dream don’t
dream don’t, dream don’t
you are the woman

Touch me if you feel my tears
I’m older than your heart and years
Can’t believe the tiny hand
reminding me that I’m a man
I don’t deserve, I’ll take your love
I’ve never cried, you make me love
you are the woman

Now I’m living in your eyes
loving ‘til it makes me cry
You’ve saved me from the sea of time
brought me back just one more time
Love what is, where did you go
was that a whisper, I love you so
you are the woman

you are the woman, you are the woman
dream don’t, dream don’t
dream don’t, dream don’t
you are the woman
you are the woman, you are the woman
dream don’t, dream don’t
dream don’t, dream don’t
you are the woman

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. You can also email me personally at wordwulf@link I’d be glad to send you your favorite. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at link.
link
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Facebook
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I‘ve been a player and singer in rock bands for three decades. I wrote songs for bands before I did any other kind of writing. My son learned to play guitar about the same time he learned to walk. I don’t do bars anymore and I wonder what keeps me singin’ until something happens like the other night. My son, Tommy, a young man with two sons and a daughter of his own, has a studio in his house. I went over to lay down some tracks on a CD he’s helping me with.

Matt, a guitar man with whom I played in bands for twenty-five years, came over to trade some riffs with Tommy. There was obvious conflict between them and I, completely out of character, stood back and watched. I wondered how it would work out, the gray beard and the young lion armed with axes and bracing the wall. Matt was half stewed when he showed up and continued to chug beer after beer. He toodled around with some old guitar band music, throwing howling laments across the room. Tommy stayed in the groove of what he describes as his own cutting-edge original sound and hurled his fair share back. Troy, my son-in-law and drummer, would just about get a beat picked out on his traditional/electric drum kit then those guitar men would switch tracks and carry that music train away.

I got tired and began to pack my PA system and harmonicas. I know all about guitar players and the misty shades of dawn. Matt was ‘sitting on a stool’, pretty much all the way drunk now. He was finger pickin’, doodling around on his Les Paul. He began to pick a rhythm, almost country and, to my surprise, Tommy joined in on bass guitar. Troy began the process of uniting the guitars through the awesome mystery (to me anyway) of percussion. I watched them for fifteen minutes as the power of the piece grew. Tears came to my eyes and goose flesh claimed the surface of my skin. The three of them had given themselves over to ‘the danse’. I backed into a far corner, lest I interrupt with a shout of silence.

I waited fifteen more minutes to see if Matt would give voice to the music. I heard somewhere that he had started singing and didn’t want to step on his toes. He gave me that ol’ six-pack smile of his and shrugged his shoulders. Hands shaking, I took pen and paper from my war bag. I powered up the PA, clicked my mic on, and stepped into the danse. I scribbled down the first few lines I could pick from the air then allowed my voice to bleed into the haunting spaces between the instruments. “I been up that road (I stopped, felt it my bones, that it was time to wait), “And I been down so very damned long” (pause again); “I been almost right” (oh yes, the longer pause); “And I been, I been so wrong.”

Matt gave me that look I have seen in the forever of my music. The switch-up was coming, they were heading for the bridge. I turned around and faced the wall. What do I do? I don’t know what to put in here, the chorus, what? Panic, they’re rolling, these musicians of beat, chord, and note. I am the word man. I’m supposed to know what’s next. Then I did what I have done thousands of times over the years. I closed my eyes and crawled out of my brain. The energy of the moment was mine. All I had to do was reach up into that space just beyond my fingertips and pull it down to me. A tear created its own path down my cheek as I fell to one knee. The chorus, crushed forever inside me, burst forth and passion issued from my lips: “Sometimes I feel... I feel like cryin’. Sometimes I feel... I feel like singin’.”

The instruments overrode me and, in their insistency, I understood, the next few moments were theirs and theirs alone in this danse, this making of love, to the moment, the air. She owned us, this mistress and her urgent flow of energy, surging and swirling between and around us. And they came down. Yes, like warring angels, they sped to a cushion of peace. What now, Mister Word Man, what now? My other knee found the floor and I surrendered my all to a breathless pause. “Like I can’t stand” (wait... wait..). The musical spiders are weaving their magick silken chord voices... “I’m a man.” And so it went... a new musical child was born.

My bar room days are over. I miss those old players and riders. I might never see my buddy Travelin’ Matt again but we wrote some kick ass songs, me ‘n him, and sometimes I feel. For that night and maybe one or two to come, I am determined to write and sing for the rest of my unnatural life. Here’s the rest of the song.

I’ve been here before
and I’ve been in other places
I just got started
then I lost too many faces
Sometimes I feel
I feel like cryin'
Sometimes I feel
I feel like singin'
like I can't stand
I'm a man

There’s a ride I missed
a few I shouldn’t have taken
Yeah, my heart has sung
It’s been on the wrong side of breakin’
Sometimes I feel
I feel like singin'
like I can't stand
I'm a man

I’ve been fallin’ down
I’ve picked myself up again
The best part of me
ain’t no third party sin
Sometimes I feel
I feel like singin'
like I can't stand
I'm a man

I look in your eyes
I am lost to all the rest
There's a fire there
You’re the worst; you are the best
Sometimes I feel
I feel like singin'
like I can't stand
I'm a man

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. You can also email me personally at wordwulf@link I’d be glad to send you your favorite. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at link.
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Facebook
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Friday the thirteenth, full moon, what a momentous late summer night to ride my Hawg, pegged flat out, in the soft moonlight,
This one’s for all the great whiskey men I’ve known over the years. Especially my father and Danny Boy, a man who swore I sang better ‘n Elvis. Danny could swing a mop and tell a story better than most men I ever knew. He was a tiny man with a gigantic capacity for loyalty and whiskey. A good man, in my opinion, a better man than me.

Whiskey Man

Have ye ever seen it empty
drink it from the bottom
They fill it up and up ye go
laughing in the barroom
Have ye ever known a pretty girl
who isn’t mad for dancing
whose passion grows and up ye go
whiskey man romancing
This one’s for the whiskey man
set ‘em up and knock ‘em down
Another for the whiskey man
ready for another round

Sometimes he rides a bicycle
and leaves it at the bar
The police locked him up a lot
he used to drive a car
When he called the operator
said, “Honey, please trace this call
The lights are out, the gig is up
but I sure had a ball,” yeah
This one’s for the whiskey man
set ‘em up and knock ‘em down
Another for the whiskey man
ready for another round we go

He always gives me a listen
never starts no trouble
It sure gives me a lift-me-up
to buy that man a double
He’s grateful as a puppy
a friend who has no friends
whose toothless smile says, “Up we go”
empty glasses end to end, yeah
This one’s for the whiskey man
set ‘em up and knock ‘em down
Another for the whiskey man
ready for another round we go again

I found the whiskey man one day
his head down on the bar
I’d never had to hold him up
that boiler maker star
Laid him in a wooden box
so when all the ladies passed
they could have a look-me-see
and kiss his whiskey ass, yeah
This one’s for the whiskey man
set ‘em up and knock ‘em down
Another for the whiskey man
ready for another round we go again and again and again

Whiskey Man was published by Rebel Dawn 2005

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. You can also email me personally at wordwulf@link I’d be glad to send you your favorite. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at link.
link
link
link
Facebook
Facebook
Instagram
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I wrote the lyrics to this song in 1991. Tommy, then sixteen, put together the guitar work. That’s Eden, Tommy’s daughter, my granddaughter, in the picture. Life is a perfect circle.

Rain come down

Rain come down
Rain come down-down
Every stranger’s face I see
fits into my memory
Children’s smiles especially
take me where I want to be

When there’s too much pain around
I love to hear that tiny sound
music where my heart is bound
making puddles on the ground
Rain come down
Rain come down-down
It’s so easy then to cry
It’s not tears, but rain, I lie
So in the rain I say goodbye
It’s been raining all my life, yeah

Love’s a part of you and me
the best of what we hope to be
the light we live our lives to see
to set the brokenhearted free
the laughter and the harmony
children’s smiles especially
running in the rain with me
chasing rainbows - memory
Rain come down
rain come down-down
Rain come down
rain come down-down

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other creative endeavors at link.
link
link
link
Facebook
Facebook
Instagram
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Zedidiah strumming his guitar, we’re lookin’ into the fire. Spending time with my kids, ah the rewards, a new song to add to our war bag, a first for my youngest son and me. We visit Tommy, my oldest son. He sprinkles on some of his magick, applies the e-bow and the mix. We have a first cut result, my boyz and me.

What You Do

There’s a lion asleep
in the bottom of the well.
His secrets died with him,
that’s the story they tell.
There’s a lone one watching,
yeah, the trees have eyes.
I confess that
it comes as no surprise.

Don’t tell me
don’t tell me
don’t tell me
what you do

We been talkin’ all night
making love til dawn.
I been voodoo trippin’,
you are the drug I’m on.
I almost made it
past your lies
but the truth between them
made the lion die.

Don’t tell me
don’t tell me
don’t tell me
what you do

You hear the lonely-lonely,
it’s the voice, they say;
its echo of madness
chase the moon away.
Yeah, the lonely hearts
at the wishing well
toss in a penny
on the road to hell.

Don’t tell me
don’t tell me
don’t tell me
what you do

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2019 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2019 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other endeavors at link.
link
link
link
Facebook
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Instagram
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Great to get an email from Number One Music this morning advising me that Farewell Captain Charlie was in the #1 spot locally (Colorado), #158 Nationally, and #289 Globally. We had five songs in top ten local, top 300 national, and top 500 local. Merry Christmas to us and thank-you, those who request and play our music. Your support is the only marker that matters. Hope your Christmases went well. Good tidings in 2019!

Thanks to my talented sons, Tommy, for the guitar work and Zedidiah, for putting together the video for this song. I believe the three of us have been doing this together for thousands of years. YouTube


Farewell Captain Charlie

Seems like we were talking and arguing away
when I walked out the door to see the sunny day
Vaguely I remember what it meant to kiss your lips
but then I’m sure you know how my memory slips
how my memory slips
Yes, I really loved you, more than I can tell
I followed you to heaven; we ended up in hell
There’s nothing more surprising than seven yesterdays
I’m thinking of tomorrow, all that I can say
oh, all that I can say
is farewell Captain Charlie
bright and sparkly eyes
patches on your blue jeans
a teardrop in the sky
a teardrop in the sky
Yes, farewell Captain Charlie
all good things must end
molded plastic kingdom
boys turn into men, boys turn into men

You’re beautiful today; I’ve never seen you cry
Saturday mornings weren’t meant for cold, cold goodbyes
Wouldn’t life be simple if everyone were you
We’d never have to wonder what to do or not to do
what to do or not to do
Monsters live in darkness, angels in the day
Captain Charlie’s always there to chase demons away
I know you can help me; we’ve all done this before
There’s a message on the wall, a red light at the door
oh, there’s a red light at the door
So farewell Captain Charlie
bright and sparkly eyes
patches on your blue jeans
a teardrop in the sky
a teardrop in the sky
Yes, farewell Captain Charlie
all good things must end
molded plastic kingdom
boys turn into men, boys turn into men

I’ve gone to live inside myself, there I’m gonna stay
deep inside my own creation, live my life away
I found her sort of living there, maybe she was dead
cold and still, warm inside, messing with my head
She was messing with my head
There she was, Captain Charlie, on his pillow there
That is how she went away, her fingers in his hair
Oh, Captain Charlie, I’ve protected you again
Don’t you know that we can never be what we have been
oh, be what we have been
So farewell Captain Charlie
bright and sparkly eyes
patches on your blue jeans
a teardrop in the sky
a teardrop in the sky
Yes, farewell Captain Charlie
all good things must end
molded plastic kingdom
boys turn into men, boys turn into men

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other endeavors at link.
link
link
link
Facebook
Facebook
Instagram
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1992, my brother was released from prison and joined me on a roofing job, our axes swinging, pounding nails under the blazing Colorado sun. Our father taught us to swing roofing axes as soon as we could walk. We slaved in the hot sun at his earth trade. I wrote songs and played music in whiskey bars at night; life in the kitchen.

Hell’s Kitchen

Working like a slave in hell’s kitchen
a little bitty piece of my heart
and through the narrow eyes of my existence
I see where the pain got its start
The heat so intense my skin is burning
I’m white and I’m red then I am black
Somewhere along the way my soul is turning
my voice crying out, take me back
Take me back to the sound of momma’s sighs
to the touch of momma’s skin
to the water life inside
where the innocent begin - again

Praying to the gods in hell’s kitchen
my life has knocked me down to my knees
I wonder aloud, do they ever listen
have I traveled this road just to bleed
The water is cold, my skin is frozen
baptism crystallized out of pain
I see the starving children’s eyes
I know them and the want they all want is the same
Take me back to the sound of momma’s sighs
to the touch of momma’s skin
to the water life inside
where the innocent begin - again

Make a hole in the ground in hell’s kitchen
won’t you bury me there when I die
Get six strong men to bear me with them
and a dozen women to cry
Find a medicine man to tell his story
and a beggar to sing me a song
Tell all my children to try not to worry
hell’s kitchen is where I belong, take me back
to the sound of momma’s sighs
to the touch of momma’s skin
to the water life inside
where the innocent begin - again

There’s an old man walking cross hell’s kitchen
and he stops for a rest by a stone
His broken yellow dog lays down there with him
welcome peace, yellow dog, you are home
He takes a pistol out of his back pocket
goodbye, my old friend, go to sleep
There’s a lonely old man, he goes out walking
and he stops by hell’s kitchen to weep
Take me back to the sound of momma’s sighs
to the touch of momma’s skin
to the water life inside
where the innocent begin

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other endeavors at link.
link
link
link
Facebook
Facebook
Instagram
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Some years ago, we were asked to perform in a wedding ceremony. The bride-to-be gave me a copy of Khalil Gibran’s ‘The Prophet’ and asked me to write a song based on the section, ‘On Marriage’. This piece is the result. My oldest son, Tommy, is doing the guitar work. His younger brother, Zedidiah, shot a great time-lapse video and used the first verse of the song as accompaniment. A wonderful experience, art and music, collaborating with my sons.

Dance Between You

You have come together
and together you shall be forever more
You will be together
when the wings of death
come knocking at your door
Together in the silence,
even in the memory of God
Yes, even in the silent, sweet silent,
memory of God
Know there must be spaces
for true love to be true
and let the winds of the heavens
dance between you, dance between you

Don't make a bond of love;
the chains of love are frozen,
hard, and cold
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores,
the soft shores of your souls
Fill each other's cup of life
but drink not from one cup -
you must befree
Give one another of your bread;
eat not from the same loaf -
you must be free
Know there must be spaces
for true love to be true
and let the winds of the heavens
dance between you, dance between you

Sing and dance together;
be joyous but let each of you be alone
As guitar strings quiver
with the same music,
each sings on its own
Give your hearts not only
as husband and wife
for who can hold such hearts;
only the hand of life,
only the hand of life
The pillars of the temple stand far apart
and you must stand together
together yet apart, together yet apart

The oak and the cypress grow
but not in one another's shadow
and so, the two of you must grow
but not in one another's shadow,
not in one another's shadow
Know there must be spaces
for true love to be true
and let the winds of the heavens
dance between you, dance between you
Yes, let the winds of the heavens
dance between you, dance between you
dance between you, dance

link
Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2018 artwork, music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©

Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other endeavors at link.
link
link
link
Facebook
Facebook
Instagram
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A man on the road usually doesn’t have much in the way of money and possessions. What he seeks is positive energy, vitality of spirit, a predisposition toward hopes and dreams, the hunger and willingness to share them.

The Highwayman

He carries dreams in a bucket. It is shot through with holes and leaking, splashing the tarmac, shoulder of the road, in liquid arcs, tiny streams crisscrossing. He is a sight to see with his backpack and bucket, feet tripping forward, a staccato march toward what is left in the pail, nonchalant as regards what has been spilled along the way. He has half a sandwich left over from a stop at a Seven-Eleven, a battered army canteen full of cheap red wine, a ten-dollar bill stashed in the sole of his shoe.

Round and round, he swings the bucket. The sun highlights a circle silhouette, the arc of his throw, reach of his dreams. Both hands on its handle, he flips it over, sits down on top of it, opens the canteen, takes a conservative swallow. A crow shines blue/black in the tree of his shade. Caw-caw, it speaks to him in its ancient voice. The highwayman laughs, taps out a finger-beat percussion on the side of his bucket-seat full of dreams. He begins to hum and the bird cocks its head. Their eyes meet; they are birds of a feather.

The day passes and the bucket fills with bits and pieces. The highwayman sorts through lies, truth, half lies delivered in steps through holes in his mind. He waves off a ride in a Coupe de Ville, climbs into the back of an old rusty pickup truck with a lovely crowd of Cherokee children. They smile shyly with their dark eyes. He stares at his shoes and smiles back. From the bottoms of their eyes, they are birds of a feather. The children dig into his bucket with curious racoon-like hands, leave more than they could ever take. He insists their father, the man driving the truck, accept the ten dollars he has pressed into his hand while giving it a firm thank-you and shake.

The highwayman sets off down the shoulder of the road to share and refill his bucket of dreams. He offers a wink to the day, a song in the voice of the crow. His step is lighter without the weight of the ten-dollar bill on his mind.

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Thank-you for the plays and requests. To those who have asked where to purchase our songs, we have uploaded a couple dozen them to link
They are on sale there for .99 each. Welcome to all new subscribers. We appreciate the positive emails and spreading the word about what we do!

Tom, Tommy, Zedidiah, Kathy, WordWulf
wordwulf@link

Check out our songs and other endeavors at link.
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Love is

Sometimes when I’m sleeping
sometimes I lay awake
Sometimes I should be dreaming, sometimes
I take love for granted
Who would ever guess
It just keeps on moving, love is
Love is like a wheel
Love goes round and round
It is like a wheel
Love goes round and round

There is time for laughing
There is time for crying
There is a time for holding, there is
Years flow by like water
carrying us away
Wonder if our love grows, love is
Love is like a wheel
Love goes round and round
It is like a wheel
Love goes round and round and round

Hold me and forever
Hold me I am never
Hold me going to leave you, hold me
I hear children laughing
I hear children playing
They are me and mine and love is
Love is like a wheel
Love goes round and round
It is like a wheel
Love goes round and round and round and round

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Inquiries: wordwulf@link
© 2018 graphic artwork music and words
conceived by and property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2018 ©