A. Sea Herndon

The Poetry of A. Sea Herndon

Category: Lyrics

Link To Lyric Archive

Here is a pretty decent link to a wiki lyric archive which covers a few of my albums:


Processed with VSCOcam with b5 preset

A. Sea in El Centro, Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico


The Gospel According to Andy Warhol

The Gospel According to Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol starin’ at the priest

Andy Warhol starin’ at the Feast

Saw that Substance hides behind the Style

Saw the God that hides inside the Child

Andy Warhol saw the Bread and Wine

Never met a man he didn’t like

Pimps & thugs & superstars & whores

Enter one and all through open doors

Cans of soup & wine & broken bread

“Everything is sacred,” Andy said

I think I know sometimes what Andy knew

All Art is just an accident of Truth

Holy Ghost, the Father, & the Son

Let the camera roll & the tape deck run

Somethings you do for profit, some for love

Everyone is beautiful or none

Andy Warhol sittin’ on the couch

Andy Warhol kneelin’ at the pew

Andy Warhol starin’ right at me

Andy Warhol starin’ right at you

*Andy Warhol attended Mass almost daily at Saint Vincent Ferrer in Manhattan.

Listen to a recorded version here.

(c) 2013 A. Sea Herndon (BMI).

Andy & JP

Andy & John Paul II. Happy Palm Sunday & Holy Week!

Ceiling Fan

Ceiling Fan

When I find my perfect center like Vitruvian Man

I will make a perfect circle like a ceiling fan

Then I’ll sing Amazing Grace

Wipe that smile back on my face

And know I’m spinning right through space

Like a ceiling fan

When I met your mother, child, understand

I was no more than a boy, not yet a man

But the Universe is funny

Seems to be made of milk and honey

And it just keeps right on running

Like a ceiling fan

When I see you, girl, naked, toned and tanned

I see the microcosmic/macrocosmic plan:

As above, so below

As in Heaven, so in my Soul

It just rolls and rolls and rolls

Like a ceiling fan

When I see Him on that tree, a dying man

I know there are some things that I don’t comprehend

But the engine of existence

Is a death that is insistent

He just hangs there in resistance

Like a ceiling fan

When I feel like I can’t sing, or speak, or stand

When I’m lonely and alone without a friend

Well, the whole world can dismiss me

But you’re always right there with me

And I know you’ve always been

My ceiling fan

Words & Music, (c) A. Sea  Herndon (BMI) 2012.

Listen to a recorded version here.

Requiem (Autumn in Tulsa/Springtime in Perth)


It was autumn in Tulsa

and springtime in Perth

when the wedding bells rang out

from St. Joseph’s Church


Where he lay in the alley

with a cross ’round his neck,

like a bottle of Mad Dog

all broken and spent.


No, I didn’t bring flowers,

but I witnessed his death

and stood like a coward

to steal his last breath.


He said, “The problem, you see,

is nearly everyone but me

is a pusillanimous

son of a bitch.


Yeah, they’ll look brave and bold,

they’ll act cool and cold,

but on the Sabbath they will leave you

like an ox in a ditch.”


So I turned back into the rain,

pulled my collar up close,

and forgetting his pain

I headed back home.


‘Cause the sunsets and seasons

are all fictions of this earth:

When it’s autumn in Tulsa,

it’s Spring, springtime in Perth.


(c) 2011, A. Sea Herndon (BMI). Listen to an audio version here.

NOTE: For readers not in the U.S., Mad Dog is American slang for MD 20/20, a cheap fortified wine that is often associated (rightly or wrongly) with the homeless and otherwise disenfranchised.


photo (9)

Happy Vernal Equinox! Backyard peach blossoms in bloom. “Do I dare to eat a peach?” Yes, Prufrock, eat the peach.

Holy Fool’s Lullaby

Holy Fool’s Lullaby

Well I could drink myself to sleep

but what’s the use in countin’ sheep

if the wool that keeps you warm cannot be found?

Well the Lamb of God they say

way back in them Bible days

was quickly curtly run right out of town.

I know it’s a dead man’s walk I pace

and if the whole damn human race

decided they would crawl, I might catch up.

But there’s nothing that I find

with my simple country mind

in all this so-called Progress that measures up.

They’ve put monkeys into space

and projected Man’s disgrace

onto every television on the earth.

But there’s nothing there, I guess

in this whole Postmodern mess

that seems to me to have a lot of worth.

We’ve got cellphone towers for trees

and we connect at such high speeds

but still I feel alone and without shade.

You could promise me the moon

but I guess I’d just as soon

that the moon just stay where it was made.

(c) 2011, A. Sea Herndon (BMI).

Listen to an audio version here.