Funny what can trigger a memory. One year ago yesterday evening as we sat with a grieving now widow and daughter, planning a memorial service, they showed us pictures of long ago. In some of those pictures was a young American boy in Vietnam. Surrounded by Vietnamese children. All smiling. All looking happy. After I left I wondered how many in that photo survived that war? And/or how much of that young boy’s soul was left in that place.
Then a specter of something I’d been writing long ago tapped me on the shoulder. Has nothing to do with anything but for some reason I remembered.
So I guess my ego then presses me to post further nonsense.
Nonetheless, here it is:
From a time long ago, and a much darker place.
Thank you
Roger Waters. And Sir Paul. Elton. Kristofferson. Maya. You’ve all spoken to my soul. And they all helped me write this lol... although it seems like about 1000 years ago now. Actually I think started when I got the record album Captain Fantastic in whatever year that was? 73? 74? I don’t know. Or was it Floyd’s Dark side of the Moon? Or was it Let it Be? Or was it To beat the Devil and drank his beer for free? It all runs together.
So long ago
I titled it,
“Lead Role in a Cage”
.
I danced in the rain,
But no partner ever came.
The song I tried to sing,
Was missing the refrain.
The rain stopped,
So I just walked away.
Is this the way,
You really wanted it to be?
The sidewalk of your soul,
Cluttered with debris.
Tripping over things
That no one else could see.
When you found yourself In times of trouble,
You never learned to let it be.
Feigning freedom,
With no guarantees,
Mocking the darkness of your soul while the captains picked the teams,
Wondering,
“Will anyone choose me.”
They didn’t.
You just walked away.
You justify your bitter taste and say,
I’ll never play the game the way they say to play.
All you ever wanted was your walk on part in this war,
Anyway.
There’s a bottle rolling down the road.
In the gutter, of what used to be your soul.
The question is,
What good in prison are your beautiful wings?
The truth is,
In reality?
The caged bird never really sings.