Sunday Morn

J Molin
Sunday Morn
J Molin Sunday Morn

Here’s a little journey I took on a Sunday morning 25 years ago that is still with me.

I wrote this song, Sunday Morn, while living in Dublin, Ireland. It’s about walking up the beautiful, wide, car-free Grafton Street watching a dozen street performers along the way, past the big church at the top then back along the River Liffey.

Grafton St.

It’s about wandering in search of the sacred and finding it in a great array of artists along the way. That is certainly how my life has turned out, finding the spiritual, the spark, the source of life in art and the people making it.

I can still see all the buskers chronicled in this song. I hope you can see them too.

Sunday Morn

I was on my way to church one Sunday morn
the sun was bright and the weather was warm
winter was over but I needed my coat
the streets were clear and the cars ran slow

there a clown breathed flame and ate the fire
juggled a knife a book and a tire
he called all the children and gave em all toys
sent them back to their parents for coins

I came to the poet in a long tattered coat
who sung and chanted every word he spoke
he pointed and pounded his great walking stick
I could hardly get through the crowd was so thick

then I came to a one-man band
who’d rigged up strings to every finger on his hand
from a little dance and from a little song
came a chorus or strings and drums and gongs

two girls sat on the side of the street
on a Persian rug with cards about their feet
for the smallest of bills and they’d shuffle the cards
and give you the blessing of their beggar gods

and a middle-aged lady with old misfit clothes
sat on a crate no song nor show
just dirt on her face and her inhuman eyes
that begged for the money that they despised

and a short man with a beard and beret
had a saxophone and man could he play
low and slow a hoarse sort-of cry
you could see the sadness in all who passed by

and a freckled gypsy boy with spiky red hair
played a penny whistle high with despair
his two younger brothers played violin
as the mother and father passed ’round the tin

and when I finally came to church I was late
and I’d spent my money for the collection plate
tossing my coins in the cups and hats
so I decided to take the long way back

I walked through the street with old women and men
nodding a greeting now and again
down by the courthouse and past the cops
looking in the windows of all the closed shops

my legs had gone weary and my mind had gone blank
as I made it home along the riverbank
arriving again at my door
having spent Sunday morning like so many before

Human Beings

Today would be the 56th birthday of brother Franklin. Before him, we lost our father at about the same age. I wrote this song for them, and all the people who are struggling with addictions. I tried to put some of the wisdom and compassion I’ve learned (a lot of it in recovery rooms and therapy sessions) into this song.

Jason Molin
Human Beings
Jason Molin Human Beings

Human Beings

I wish at least that you could talk about it
And see the hands extended out to you
You know my dad he was an alcoholic
My brother died of substance abuse
The monsters living at the back of our closets
Are just like mushroom growing in the dark
Take em out an put em on the table
In the light of day it all just falls apart
I wish you’de see that there are so many helpers
So many living with the same disease
Cause every time you flirt with suicide
I’m helpless and angry, in disbelief

I pray for smart and sensitive souls
Right now spinning out of control
Trying to free themselves from their freefall
There’s no shame in seeing yourself
As someone who needs a little help
We all need someone’s help to see
that’s what it means to be human beings

You play it cool out on your own private island
I’m calling out to you as we sail past
But you can’t hear me over the screaming sirens
Don’t want no help off of your Alcatraz
See there is a trick to getting out of the nightmare
You have to learn to say the devil’s name
You have to call him out and stand before him
You have to practice looking in his face
Until you do he’s growing in that darkness
Stranglin your heart and twistin up your mind
Each day he blows out another candle
Each night he dims the light behind your eyes

For all the smart and sensitive souls
Right now spinning out of control
Trying to catch themselves in their freefall
There no shame in seeing yourself
As someone who needs a strong dose of help
We all need some tough love to see
that’s what it means to be human beings

I’m dealing daily with my own damn problems
I’m seeing how bad they can really be
And when I’m living in a state of denial
I’m walking round with internal bleeding
I feel so many hearts holdin me gently
I’ve learned that I can say the devil’s name
I’ve learned to count upon enlightened soldiers
To help me to live with all the shame the remains
I’m staring straight into to the face of the monster
Cuz I know I’ve got an army at my back
I know he will not lay a finger on me
Unless he can separate me from the pack

Cuz I’m a smart and sensitive soul
Who could right now be down in the hole
Trying to be myself from my freefall
I’ve learned the bravery and sense to admit
When I’m headed toward some serious shit
It’s only when with a whole lot of love
I get to be completely human, baby