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Four Years Years have passed; I don’t know how They went so fast; they’re memories now Families fade, but wars they grow It makes me miss my high school more And, The Class of 1984. Where were you in ‘81? When Carter lost and Reagan won? Did you listen to the CDC about HIV? Or watch Lady Diana marry royalty? Were you there in ’81? Where were we in ‘81? Our freshman year; a brand new start We use to say, “School’s not for me.” We wrote our worries in a diary That was us in ‘81. Where were you in ‘82? Did ya’ watch Cal Ripkin take a swing or two? Were you listening to Springsteen rally the crowd; As 750,000 thousand gathered ‘round? Were you there in ’82? Where were we in ‘82? Our sophomore year, we drank a few Football games, then Cry Baby Bridge Cheering for Michael when he threw that pitch That was us in ‘82 Where were you in ‘83? Did you watch the end of MASH on TV? Martin Luther King Day became a bill Microsoft Word unleashed a whole new world. Were you there in ’83? Where were we in ‘83? Our junior year, we turned sixteen A little bit of country and little class We thought this year would never pass That was us in ‘83 Where were you in ‘84? Did you watch The Games in Sarajevo? Did you sing “From dawn to setting sun …”? When the Marines pulled out of Lebanon, Were you there in ’84? Where were we in ‘84? Our senior year, we felt assured Driving to school and then to work Some in letter jackets; some in t-shirts That was us in ’84. That was me in ‘84 I only thought I wanted more I’d get married; build a life Make someone a perfect wife It used to come so easily The foolish side of me And ‘84 Written by theresa smith halfacre August 21, 2006 12:49 a.m.  Michelle There are portraits in this place Every day we see your face A gift for passion A flair for fashion Unwilling, you left the race Souls are torn in this place Every day they feel your grace A gift for gloom An empty room Cleverly, you haunt this space Imagination fills with fear Hope waits in the morning Ghosts are clear Then disappear You shot your way to longing Emotions float in the air Angels, how do they dare? Cast a spell A cry from hell Temptation feeds on flair Where did you go? Lost below the stones Sometimes better for you Isn’t better for me God rest in peace. Written by theresa smith halfacre, August 1, 2006 1:46 a.m. Sacred Threads, Secret Flaws I went to see Ashley I heard she was afraid I knew what was wrong with her I hadn’t seen her for days There in the corner of her room Cradling her stuffed bear There was little Ashley hiding there She looked like a woman Not sweet thirteen The dozen times she’d ran away Cops busted her dreams Of never coming home again To hear Johnny whisper, “I’ll see you at ten” There was little Ashley, lying under him Sacred threads, secret flaws Fabric weaves in thoughts Of a girl who believes Abuse is her fault Momma’s dead; daddy works And I know you hurt Little Ashley, little girl You’re living in a world Where rules are broken And lives are torn apart I went to see Ashley She just turned sixteen Confused by the battle She remained just as sweet She had turned to a lover A friend she could trust There’s nothin’ like the love of a woman’s touch She looked like a woman About the age of me The years had finally worn her down She was never free They called her names ‘cause she was gay They didn’t know her pain She let go of their hatred And all the voices for a grave Cradled in her casket Hid Ashley’s little bear They laughed and cried together For so many years Little Ashley, little girl Did you have to leave? Little Ashley, little bear Watch over the children You left down here Sacred threads, secret flaws We carry them all Little children who believe Abuse is their fault Written by theresa smith halfacre, 2006  Can You Hear Your Mother? Flying out over ocean Windswept in your dreams Followed by a nation’s devotion And the subject of their greed A pale ride to existence You never let them down Relentless with persistence A storm dance in a cloud Charles, can you hear your mother? Praying in the shell of the sea Was the tale already woven By a force greater than three? Everything she did to survive; History gave her the right. Turning inward in order to love It was the best way she could die Devil stands in the doorway A weary woman’s delight Pilot your way to the morrow He was a Christian man all right Abandon the damned, you damn right Domesticate the violence of crime A compass is there to the right of you Who plots his course for him tonight? Charles, can you hear your mother A victim of her rights Death was life in one good-night Saints were rare, but she stood there A face left bare to the public glare And escape given to three A higher price of society Was the cost worth your freedom? Of one more casualty? Charles can you hear your mother Standing in the shell of the sea A tale already woven By a force greater than three Everything she did to survive History gave her the right Turning inward in order to love It was the best way she could die. Written by theresa smith halfacre july 06  For my friend … There’s never a day, I don’t say your name There’s never a morning I forget your pain There’s never a dream That stays away from the night We’re falling like stars now In showers of rain… You’re walking through ashes But you’re still on your feet Your children are hungry For his love, so are we He was your husband And a brother to me Oh, but he’s gone now To the rush of the breeze Some say this war has to be We’re saving a country We’re setting them free Tell this to his mother His children, his wife Then try and convince me Who’s wrong and who’s right Try to convince me Who’ll rest in peace tonight CHORUS Remember his laughter Before he said good-bye It was the last time he looked at you And you knew it inside Remember each moment Remember each day Remember the places Along the way The blood on their shoulders The blood on our hands The world that we live in I don’t understand He walked through the mines And they blew him away All that’s left some ashes Bearing his name Walk through the oil fields It’s the same old drill Year after year we fight To be the king of the hill Have we forgotten? Are you reminding us again? War is good for the economy And priceless in the end. You didn’t know his laughter You didn’t know his name You never stood with him Now you send us your thanks Have you forgotten the comrades? Their names carved in stone God forgive the man Perched on his throne. Inside I’m a peacemaker Inside I’m a child But all of this fighting Is killing my mind … Tmsh July 6, 2006 3:58 a.m.  Would You Still Say Hi To Me? I said, “Hello, how are you?” He said, “Ma’m I’ve been better. I’ve got this letter in my hand There’s a job I have to do And, I wonder if you knew what is that I do Would you still say “hi” to me?” I am a husband with a wife Both my boys play church league baseball I made a choice with my life To stand by this here land It’s my job, it’s my pay; it’s the American way So, tomorrow, I’m heading back to Baghdad” It’s just me, I never leave, I have to stay and ask the questions, “Do you agree? Are people free? Are we teaching more than lessons? Why the guns? Why not peace? Why not harmony? Are you protecting something you believe in?” “You aren’t me, you’ll never see, The terrorists and their weapons. We placed an Army in their land; We prayed for His direction I’ve got answers of my own, but for now leave me alone “I’ve made peace with my decisions.” “Please don’t go, I want to know, I want some answers to these questions. I’m not alone, nor are you, We’re just trying to make it through Look in my eyes, you’ll see I’m trying to understand Rifles, rockets, guns and this combat.” There was silence we both understood We had no answers, knew we never would We could stand here all day Both have our say We could have been best of friends But sometimes, this is the way a conversation ends: He said, “Hello, how are you?” I said, “Sir, I’ve been better You’ve got a letter in your hand There’s a job you have to do No need to wonder, I know what it is you have to do And yes, I’d still say ‘Hi’ to you." We have leaders in each land Placing guns in foriegn hands Oh, God, what have we done? Oh, God, what have we done? theresa smith halfacre, july 2006 ;void(0)) Chilhowee In the mountains of Chilhowee there was a little girl, Six years old; dying to be young I saw her face, her dirty feet; Dancing in the weeds I couldn’t help but smile On that peaceful April morning in Chilhowee Her name was Leah, her eyes were green Her hair was full of curls She was loving life and living in her world It was just another day to you and me But never to Leah She believed in things she counldn’t see Take a ride to Chilhowee Go and smell the flowers Take a ride to Chilhowee You can get there from anywhere … Within an hour I’ll never know what made her dance Or want to smell the flowers I’ll never understand how a second chance Can pick and choose the hour When life begins for some And ends for another In the misty mountain air of the Chilhowee A pool of water then a pool of blood Sticks and stones couldn’t save her The birds all cried like mourning doves Innocent and pure Just like the dance of Leah God, I wish that I could see her Take a ride to Chilhowee Go and smell the flowers Take a ride to Chilhowee You can get there from anywhere… Within an hour In an April cloud she dances now Above the Chilhowee Her face, her hair, her dirty feet Six years old she’ll always be Dying to live; you’ve got to live to die Just like the Wild that live in Chilhowee Take a ride to Chilhowee But don’t say a prayer for Leah She danced her way home; she is free Take a ride to Chilhowee There’s something to believe in In the leaves and trees and memories Of Chilhowee Written by theresa smith halfacre In memory of Elora Petrasek  Nicholas Road It was his last supper and my last song One more reason to walk along The dusty curves that wind their way To a memory on that old highway There’s a sparkle of sadness and a miracle of life On Nicholas Road I can hear his voice clearly as he giggles a little scream “Spaghetti please, spaghetti please No sauce, no sauce, just parmesan cheese” Smiling through that freckled face His green eyes they lit up this place On Nicholas Road (Chorus) Nicholas Road Nicholas Road I can still hear the sounds on Nicholas Road Nicholas Road Nicholas Road He was seven years old on Nicholas Road Toy soldiers in his left hand and peace his right Riding in the back seat, the Calvary didn’t fight The Indians or any man, why should they hate? In this life we’re all one, we must cooperate We must cooperate if we’re ever to believe In the lives Nicholas saved unknowingly On Nicholas Road He was a little Robin Hood A miracle of life A just communicator who taught us wrong from right No one could imagine the gunshots that day A fallen hero and a mighty lad Taken in a foreign land Taken but not forgotten, his heart still beats on... On Nicholas Road. (chorus) Every time the wind blows I hear his voice and kiss the face of Nicholas. Written by theresa smith halfacre, April 30, 2005, 5:30 p.m. Where Went The Time? Two years older was my sister than I When we danced in Grand Haven Had one hell of time She’d say, “Make a reservation, We need a vacation Sandy beaches and a sweetheart’s delight,” 20 years later; I wonder tonight “Where went the time?” She moved up and I moved out I wore peach; she wore delicate white Had one hell of a time Heirloom laces, forgotten faces Sandy beaches left no innocent traces In a Michigan night 30 years later and I wonder tonight Where went the time? Two boys and one baby girl They were God’s gift to me In one hell of a world I cooked and cleaned; starched his shirts It could’ve been better but it could’ve been worse Moved around from town to town 40 years later you’re forgotten about Where went the time? The kids are grown, they’ve all moved out Their father died; I'm alone with my dog In one hell of world Empty dance halls; don’t need a reservation Grand Haven was my last vacation Sandy beaches and a sweetheart’s delight 50 years later I wonder tonight Where went the time? Two years older was my sister than I When we danced at Grand Haven Had one hell of a time She called me up, said "Make a reservation, "60 years later I need a vacation And I want to see your face I’ve never forgotten your face Where went the time?" theresa smith halfacre In This Room In this room live the sweetest memories They whisper softly and bring back yesterday It remembers the flowers It remembers the tears It remembers everything forgotten over the years In this room flows a color of saffron dreams Melodies of a simple kiss on the cheek Dogs on the bed Pillows of red Closets and mirrors; breakfast in bed In this room every corner has a home Etched with cobwebs; a ceiling fan still blows A television on the stand Two lovers holding hands A print of a child from Amsterdam In this room I loved you with my all heart I hid notes, gifts and a dozen birthday cards Next to the fireplace you would stand Undress and climb in bed I touched your skin, ran my fingers through your hair In this room I feel the familiar pain Once lonely I cried, now tears fall down in shame What ever happened to the love from your wife? What ever happened to “I love you, good-night”? Is all that’s left a room full of dust? Is the only thing left here, a room without us? theresa smith halfacre 2006 Raging War There are ashes on the table There is smoke everywhere There are birds fighting danger There is danger everywhere Charcoal lies upon the mown grass Looks just like a piece of earth Blending in like lost companions Finding nothing they deserve Take your sandals off the wood planks Brush them off; step on the ground There is nothing to remember When there is no love to be found I’m going home to find my father I’m going home to find my life I’m going home to Armageddon I’ve heard you lived there all my life. There’s a gold branch bending downward Like a flower soon to die Another victim of the rapist The destroyer plunges in his knife My heart is dead, it doesn’t matter Dressed in leather; laced in black Nothing’s left except my mind now And your words are killing that What kind of truce are you seeking, While you self destruct in combat? Rest in our blood, the war is raging One day it will be you looking back I’m going home to see my mother I’m going home to see her eyes I’m going home to Armageddon I think I’ve lived there all my life I'm going home to Armageddon I'm going home, sweet and low I'm going home sweet Armageddon Soon I'll see you down below. theresa halfacre  His Dream He said, “I have a dream” It’s about equality for every human being Men and women everywhere Hear my labored prayer Intolerance has a consequence In God’s eye’s, we’re all significant And free…(free, we have to believe in the dream…) The path he chose in life To change the world through sacrifice Inviting every child of man To believe and understand His witness to the world And make our hearts more pure And free …(and free, we have to believe in the dream) Living for justice That’s what love is He challenged a nation To free racism What’s the price we pay When we pull ourselves away From the dream, his dream, The dream for which he died? One man spoke God’s words As he walked in a daring search Of what we need from birth The dream of our self worth Don’t pull yourself away Pain is the price we pay When we turn ourselves away From the dream, his dream, The dream for which he died. Written by theresa smith halfacre, May 7, 2005, 11:02 a.m. Sacrifice Everywhere the talk is getting louder I look around and I hear them wonder Wonder if I’m ever going to make things right In my life There’s pain when we’re honest to God The smallest prayers often come undone Every right is often more than wrong Just read the news Change is riding in this direction I feel its starkness; it’s a cold reflection “She use to be the sweetest girl, What has she done?" I peeled away 20 years of skin Just to see the child in me again Trying to figure out; trying to understand All this war There’s sacrifice and there’s deception We feel the loss in our best intentions There’s not enough love to change the world Naive little girl Consumed by words and material things We want the best; the best of everything It’s not real; it’s all so pretentious Let it go I only know this day is mine I’ll take the best, I won’t be unkind It’s not worth the bitterness or pain It burns the soul Smell the jasmine, smell the cut grass These are the things that are sure to last Beyond politics and war; religion and the poor Don’t close your eyes … Sacrifice. Written by theresa smith halfacre, May 5, 2006 1:17 p.m. ;void(0)) Layers of Life Layers of life fall to the floor Swept under carpets and broken screen doors Like dust in the desert and dreams of desire Layers upon layers surround me like fire Memories resurface, piece by piece Mostly in quiet refuge, I process my grief The mind will protect every dream ever lost Frightened and alienated, we suffer the cost Never in my life would I believe I would break my vow to God. I have searched for you in my sins and creations I have struggled through every lawful temptation Ouestioning every damaging thought Sickness and contemplation were the answers I got. One more layer dresses the floor It weaves my mistakes into one hundred more Confused and bewildered I stay in my shell Looking like heaven, but dreaming of hell. You never broke your vow to God or silence. For a lifetime I accepted rejection with a smile Understanding complacent lives firsthand in denial Standing seconds away from one who protects Others will benefit from my loss and neglect I’ll never again believe in fairytales Like layers of life, they slip into failures Remind me again sometime why I’m foolish And I’ll remind you again that I’m not what I wished … Or hoped I could be in your heart. This grief is ours to share equally. Finally, we are united forever in what we have broken. Written by theresa smith halfacre, april 29th, 2005 6:17 p.m.  The Harder I Fall The further we go the harder I fall It takes one mistake, just one mistake and that’s all What do we lose? What do we win? Is love worth the pain to see you again? I’ll never know. Dreams are waiting to help cushion the fall They wrestle with nightmares until Angels call Calling me back, calling me home Calling me something then nothing at all Wish they’d leave me alone I walk to the porch, I feed the birds I read words I never heard Never heard them before ‘Til I walked through your door Harmful and hurtful just like before It takes one mistake, just one mistake and that’s all Sometimes regrets, sometime the best gets to us all Still I walk through your door and come back for more. And the harder I fall. Written by theresa smith halfacre ;void(0)) One Day One day one prayer will touch the world God will listen and not wonder what he heard Fallen heroes everywhere, severed in the ground No one ever notices, they’re faceless in a crowd Disposable and dying in the lost and found. One day one prayer will touch one little girl Standing in the prowl of her sacred little world Bruises blacken up her back, following the attack No one ever notices because she’s black Close your eyes and just forget, just forget One day one prayer will touch the enemy And those we think we care about the least Their face is different but their eyes still shine No one notices it is we who divide The history that ultimately unites us in one vine One day one prayer will touch every ailing man Who seeks shelter for his family and food for friends He is weak physically, but I promise you he believes No one notices while he’s praying on his knees “Dear God, please protect us with your mercy.” One day one prayer will touch Mother Earth And restore what we destroy, it has no worth The animals are weak, we made them so We lock them up we take their home In the name of economical growth One day one prayer will touch this heart Healing fears that keep my eyes apart Playing in the playground, dancing as I please One day no one will notice me One day isn’t soon enough for me. Written by theresa smith halfacre, May 1, 2005, 10:02 p.m. 
Two Lines I thought the wind blew as cold as it could Then you blew through me like the fire in the woods Lost in the days and lost to our minds I long to find you but know there’s no time The red in the mountains the chill in the air It rustled the winter more than we cared Time spent alone it’s never as good As loving someone when you know you shouldn’t West Virginia you blew two lines in my face Out on the road in this dark winter place Wrestling words spoke through my lips Letting a dream slip through our fingertips Call to the wind and call to the wild Call the to the challenge Its whispering child Dreaming of songs lost in two lines Have they been forgotten or just left behind? I thought the wind blew as cold as it could Then you blew through me like the fire in the woods Lost in a dream that got lost on the way I long to find you and pray I long to find you and pray theresa smith halfacre, 12:39 a.m. | Theresa | halfacre promotions: Featuring Carla Ulbrich | Acoustic Coffee House, Johnson City, TN | Land of Monuments | Love and War | Audio Clips | The Unnofficial Half | Links Booking John Brannen | The Grey Eagle Concert Photo's | Return Home | There Are Those ... | MY BOOK! | |
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