mj samuelson

mj samuelson

BandHip HopFolk

mj samuelson is a keen observer of life who turns his fasination of words into poem, lyric, and satire.

Biography

mj was born in a small town in central Nebraska, and spent his childhood on a farm. After graduating from college, mj began a career in radio and television broadcasting. His next avocation was as a facility manager for the State of Nebraska, and presently dabbles in political theory and hypothetical physics.

Lyrics

Before The Fall

Written By: mj samuelson

She was an angel before the fall,
known in her circles as a bell of the ball.
Now she's a demon fallen from grace, a nude nightclub dancer in this awful place.
Life isn't easy living in hell, where soles are bought cheaply from those willing to sell.
But she deserves better and so I recall, that she was an angel before the fall.
She was an angel with wings and could fly, a princess and the apple of her fathers eye.
If he was still with us he'd break down and bawl, to see his angel after the fall.
No, life isn't easy living in hell, soles are bought cheaply from those willing to sell.
But she deserves better and so I recall, that she was an angel before the fall.
How could this happen no one can say, life is a gamble and we all must pay.
Some become takers and some lose it all, perhaps we were all angels before the fall.
Life just ain't easy living in hell, soles are sold cheaply by those willing to sell.
But she deserves better and so I recall, that she was an angel before the fall.

Too Late Too Often

Written By: mjsamuelson

I was almost to the station, when the train pulled out of town.
I was sidetracked by temptation, when salvation came around.
How much more can I go wrong, being too late, too often, too long.
I was headed for the river, where the linving waters flow, when I wandered off the beaten path, and how I got here I don't know.
How much more can I go on, being too late, too often, too long.
They were dealing out dispensation, to those who'd join them in their song. They were talking repentation, and they knew where I was wrong.
Tell me how can I keep going on, being too late, too often, too wrong.
Now our souls are torn asunder, when we're tossed upon the shore, but is it any wonder we keep coming back for more.
Can't we just once stop and not go on, being too late, too often, too long.
I was looking for the answer, and I didn't understand, that what I really needed, was right here in my hand.
And really, it's OK to just keep on, being too late, too often, too wrong.