Pigeon Toed – Girl playing the violin to a bunch of doves flittering around.
Good old music came to town Sunday morning when I’m gone
and the children now, could not hear its sound,
Good old music played to last ’till the late beat of my bass
but the children now, could not feel its rhyme…
Sunday evening I recall all the stories of The Old,
paper hearts I used to love, plastic smiles and rubber holes
and it pains me through my bones
that the calling that I hold stood me up when I got bold,
and it pains me thrugh my soul
that the fever that I hold caught me up when I got cold…
And I’d wish I’ve colored all with a rainbow of a sort,
clouded thoughts and hardy reins to the last one of my days…
Good old music came to town Sunday morning when I’m gone
Good old music for The Old starring words that went untold…
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 