It ain't no joke when a mama's handkerchief is soakedWith her tears because her baby's life has been revokedThe bond is broke up, so choke up and focus on the close upMr. Wizard can't perform no god-like hocus-pocusSo don't sit back, kick back and watch the world get bushwhackedNews at ten, your neighborhood is under attackPut away the crack before the crack puts you awayYou need to be there when your baby's old enough to relate
Bitch, DARE had nothing on that. We all needed to see what was coming--the storm despite the apathy.
Don't delay, act now. (I always repurpose "Walkin' on the Sun" to do with climate change in my head. It makes sense that way, you know. RIP, Steve Harwell. We probably didn't have a whole lot of political overlap but shared a generation.)
We also lost Gary Wright (I had "Dream Weaver" on a K-Tel compilation to play on my little turntable as a wee kid).
Fly me high through the starry skies
Maybe to an astral plane
Cross the highways of fantasy
Help me to forget today's pain
And Jimmy Buffet and I don't know. (Yes "Come Monday" speaks more to me, by goodness. It's a fin romantic ballad). There's an uncool era of drinking shit well drinks and listening to popular music that spoke to not fucking around that personifies just wanting to, yearning to, love and live. Because otherwise, we were in the shit.
I don't know how these guys hang together in my mind, other than all recently passing, except they also do. A couple songs loved and lived deeper and more meaningful to my generation and our consciousness. Part of an ethos of wearing our skin and drinking it in over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment