Schumacher Unplugged. Acoustic Folk Rock with Irish influences featuring Guitar, Mando, Accordeon, violin and a sweet Piano solo.
Schumacher's progressive music styles - Progressive, Celtic, Acoustic.
Schumacher's music embraces a wide range of musical styles - a true blend of Progressive Rock, Celtic, and classical music arrangements.
We try to make people feel, to capture and reflect emotion, and help others as their lives are touched by both good and bad. Our success is not our sales, but the comments listeners leave about how a song touched their hearts.
Check out "The Snake in the Grass" or "The Buffalo Dance" for a snapshot of the band's acoustic-progressive work.
Story behind the song
A friend of mine started referring to me as the Renaissance Man, simply a guy that gets into lots of different things. When I told my girl, she laughed and called me her "Patchwork Man". Written on the Outer Banks, NC, this song is for you, Baby !
Lyrics
They call him the Patchwork Man,
sewn, hemmed and torn,
a colorful oddball,
a faraway born.
his bedouin life shapes this mold
the eyes the windows to his soul,
Kaleidoscope of the mind.
And the seams won't rip no matter how strongly they tear at them now.
No they will not rip, will overcome their mockery somehow.
Always a misfit, is the burden he must carry.
But with his true love by his side he'll never grow weary.
So come pack your things cause it's time to move on.
Oh Patchwork Man,
scattered and torn,
sewn together what's left of your own.
Some call it rennaisance,
some call it deliverance,
but he calls it fragmented dreams of a far away home.
In a mosaic of fringes
all spun into one.
he stares across the ocean,
at the distant sun.
Oh his eyes watch the seagulls dive
in the sky as the tide changes to high,
and the waves roll in by.
And he drifts away, as the wind kisses the salty skin on his face,
to that far away place, where the last bastion of freedom remains.
Always a misfit, is the burden he must carry.
But with his true love by his side he'll never grow weary.
So come pack your things cause it's time to move on.
Oh Patchwork Man,
scattered and torn,
sewn together what's left of your own.
Some call it rennaisance,
some call it deliverance,
but he calls it fragmented dreams of a far away home.
The bronze oil lamp flickers,
as the wick catches fire,
the shadows become longer,
and he closes his eyes.
What he knows he is open to share
and to you his life may seem unfair,
but he thinks he won the grand prize
For he's nobody's slave, prefers the quaint side roads and wooded old lanes.
to that far away place, where the last bastion of freedom remains.
Always a misfit, is the burden he must carry.
But with his true love by his side he'll never grow weary.
So come pack your things cause it's time to move on.
So goes the Patchwork Man,
honest and true.
please just remember,
he could be you.
