This is not an age to record in song,
But you got to do it; or you got to move along.
Like the corpse you keep in chemical light
(That to keep it cool, you break the night),
Time’s slipping by; and soon you die.
Hello, flower, why you’re drooping to the
Fading day? Is that your life was blinded
Now that, in the end, you pray?
Like words of a soft spoken, guarded fear
Petals dry, waver and fall broken.
No, brother, this ain’t about a flower:
Just that I smiled and I passed by my lover
Whose smile is a dream that dreams issue
And all the time whispered that it is you.
Just passed that dream in our parting hour.
This ain’t about flowers, this speaks of leaves
And the seamless moments of our days and eves.
Lies that we tell us in our quest of truth
And our hollow responses to all that is youth.
Holding you here on my knees.