Sunday Letters

A long long time ago,
I can still remember,
How that musing used to make me smile,
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I would make those people glance,
And maybe they'll be happy for awhile,
But February made me shiver,
With every paper I deliver,
Bad news on the doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.

I can't remember if I cried,
When I read about his widowed bride,
Something touched me deep inside,
The day,
The musing,
Died.

So why why, did the weather went dry,
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry,
Them good old boys,
Were being frisky,
And ripe,
Singing this will be the day that I die,
This will be the day that I die.

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
Ain't it vital
I tell you so.

Hun, do you believe in rock & roll,
Cause music, can't save your model soul,
And can you teach me how to drive,
Like a pro.

Babe, I know that you are getting slim,
Cause I saw you standing in the gym,
You kicked off them old shoes,
And you wore them strapped up and new,

I was a lonely teenage hockey puck,
Worked the small gas station and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day,
The musing died.

I started thinking.

Why why why, when the weather was dry,
Joined the Navy for my daddy,
But my daddy was high,
Them good old boys,
Stopped drinking whisky,
And rhymed,
And singing this will be the day that I die,
This will be the day that I die.

Now for ten years,
We've been on our own,
As moss rolls fat on a rolling stone,
But,
That's not how it turned out to be.

When the jester ran,
For the king and queen,
And the coat you borrowed from the keen,
And the choice that came,
On you and me.

And while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his party crown,
The courtroom was adjourned,
No verdict was returned.

And while felons read a book on Mars,
The puppet studied with the stars,
And we sang dirges in the dark,
The day,
The musing died.

We'd be singing,

Lie lie, Miss American High,
Chose your hubby from your mummy,
But your mummy ain't fine,
And good old boys,
Were watching TV and whined,
Thinking this will be the day that I try,
This will be the day that I try.

Helped her, dealt her,
In a summer sweater,
Birds flew off,
From a fallout shelter,
Aging tiles,
And brocade glass.

And land a foul out on the grass,
The players tried for a risky pass,
With the jester on the sidelines,
In a cast.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume,
While speakers played a classic tune,
We all got into the trance,
But we never liked to dance,

Thus the lawyers try to take the field,
The marching man refuse to yield,
Do you recall what was revealed,
The day,
The musing died

We started swinging,

Bye bye, mist and nights full of sky,
Shove my baby to a lady,
But the lady was mine,
Them bad old boys,
Were faking grieving,
And pined,
This will be the day that I shine,
This will be the day, I shine.

And there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space,
With no time left,
'Cept for our face.

So come on, Back-Is-Nimble,
Track-Field-Quick,
Flare flash burned off the candlestick,
Ain't fire the devil's only friend.

Oh, and as I watch the marble stage,
My hands were clenched in fists of rage,
No angel here can tell,
Can make this sorta spell.

And as the plane climbs high,
Into the night,
To light the sacrificial right,
I saw Satan laughing with delight,
The day,
The musing died.

He was singing,

Why, why, why, are you people so blind,
All so savvy yet so daffy,
And the bevy was tight,
Them good old boys,
Would come home early
At ninine,
Singing,
Nigh are still the days that I cry,
This would be the day that I die.

I met a girl who painted hues,
And I asked her if I paid my dues,
She just smiled,
And flew away.

I locked up all my sacred doors,
Where the musing played again once more,
But the fan there sneered the notion
Wouldn't fade.

And in the streets,
The children streamed,
The dove could cry,
In a poet's dream,
But not a word was spoken,
The merged hell then, now broken.

And the free men turned into a ghost,
Of mother, nuns and morning toast,
They've all set out for the most,
The day,
The musing...

Died.