Friday, December 19, 2014

SoNG: Ain't Life a Bitch

Women's Video Collective.  Copyright 1983. All Rights Reserved.

Web weaving at the main gate of the Seneca Army Depot, August 9, 1983

Ain't Life a Bitch
Written by the Average Dyke Band,* 1985
PeHP Source: ADB Songsheets 1985-87;  Average Dyke Band Dorm Room Recording, 1985


The days are drawing to a close, it's time to say goodbye.
I got my hands in my pockets, I can not even look you in the eye.
It's hard to see you leave even though I understand it's what you need.

The Gypsy blood inside your soul draws you to another place.
I feel your energy so strong and yet I need to see your face.
Though your spirit's fine, I'd rather have your body next to mine.

CHORUS: That's the life here, the women come and then they go.

Leaves you waiting on a letter, listening for the telephone.
Love them fully while they're here and when they've gone, let them go.
Rumor has it that the women always find their way back home.

The sun is setting early and the nights are starting to get colder.
I sit here playing my guitar and I'm wishing I could hold you.
Sometimes I have to dig so deep to find the strength to keep on going.

I'm feeling down I call you up and your voice sure sounds good.
Loving you ain't always easy but I wouldn't change it if I could.
You're my comrade so true, sweet woman, I love you.

Sometimes I fear the distance, I wonder if we'll ever meet again.
There's no use in making plans because yours vary with the wind.
 It hurts sometimes, I can't pretend, I miss you my friend. 

We're moving through each other's lives sharing laughter, sharing pain.
A tribe of women loving women growing stronger as we change.
Merry meet and merry part and may we merry meet again. 

     * The Average Dyke Band (ADB) sprang up at the camp in the summer of 1985. The theory we put into action was that songs, singing and musical instrumentation were not the domain of an exclusive, talented few. We had found that far too many women fell silent musically because somewhere along the way they were told they didn't have a good voice, couldn't carry a tune, couldn't keep a beat. The ADB, then, was the musical counterpart to the Camp's consensus process philosophy and practice - every woman's voice would be heard. We were inclusive, we were average, and we had a damn good time.

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