Made your reservation fifty years ago,
we waited 'til today,
at the time,
it was so far away,
now we go,
long, long ago, back to when we guessed
this was where we'd seem today.
So far away, grinning still, happy as
the fool on the hill,
sees the story unfold, a thousand voice
choir of messengers going up and down
and back… this continuity in perifery,
ifery were, and ifery was, and ifery at all
times, songs we listened to high,
in the winter of '67, long before
the Eggman died.
When the band was so young,
when the world was younger,
but not much
we kinda
lost touch, after the scariest part.
It was a trip.
Not everyone found their way,
nobody had GPS back then, few knew
what the Grateful Dead were happy about
and nobody had coordinates…
for Blue Jay Way…
seems, we've been too long coming,
Yesterday is with us for constant review.
Critics believe it all leads here.
A hit before your mama was old,
a long, long time ago…
The tune inspired, da-did-dada, she
should call it all art, and we are
all together
after all these ****** Tuesdays,
assure us now that Fridays come.
Ordering chaos to line us all up,
getting reverb in return for echoes
after all's said now another way,
we laugh along with
jokers who do laugh at you,
to push you through the portal,
taking all your time apart in instants.
Noise of others, noise from then,
puke into this mic.
Black hole of best intentions.
Good bye and hello, across the decades,
did we not meet once on the street?
I caught your eye, you smiled,
a long, long time ago…
remember?
I smiled, yes, as I passed,
you did not notice, I passed, it happened.
I smiled. hey, la, ha-hahaha, and took
Kesey's invitation, goodnight, Irene.
I did do the dive into the sea,
with drowning on my mind, going down
beyond the buoyancy, of anyone in my tree.
Realizing nothing since we lost touch,
I thought you all realer than me,
as my shape lost its original intention,
time distorts from
formative decades conforming
affirmational automation, to corporate
clean machines, still a source of pride.
Meanwhile,
we find it easy recalling toe tapping
impulses, now that you know who you are,
have you traveled
very far… further than any magic school bus?
How does if feel to be,
after all this time, to find today, the same old songs.
Never got rich beyond the satisfied mind
I found in a sack behind the opera house.
Nothing you can do that can't be done, it's easy,
say it true, believe it true, prove it makes long term
sense, after fifty freaking years, the laughing trombones
continue laughing at the simplicity past essentials.
Love needs a better definition,
all together now,
everybody, repeat the mantra,
or grow old and never get famous, rich and miserable,
live on with the will to grow older
still, knowing better and worse, at once...
one more time.
Made your reservation fifty years ago,
we waited until today,
at the time,
it was so far away,
now we go,
long, long ago, back to when we guessed
this was where we'd seem today.
So far away, grinning still, happy as
the fool on the hill, and nowhere man
see the story unfold, a thousand voice
choir of messengers going up and down
and back… this continuity in perifery,
ifery were, and ifery was, and ifery at all
times, songs we listened to high,
in the winter of '67, long before
the Eggman died.
When the band was so young,
when the world was younger,
but not much,
we kinda
lost touch, after the scariest part.
It was a trip.
Not everyone found their way,
nobody had GPS back then, few knew
what the Grateful Dead were grateful for
and nobody had coordinates…
for Blue Jay Way… or Penny Lane it
seems, we' were too long coming,
Yesterday is with us for constant review.
Critics believe it all leads here.
A hit before your mama was old,
a long, long time ago…
The tune inspired, da-did-dada, she
should call it all art, and we are
all together
after all these ****** Tuesdays,
assure us now that Fridays come.
Ordering chaos to line us all up,
getting reverb in return for echoes
after all's said now another way,
we laugh along with
jokers who do laugh at you,
to push you through the portal,
taking all your time apart in instants.
Noise of others, noise from then,
puke into this mic.
Black hole of best intentions.
Good bye and hello, across the decades,
did we not meet once on the street?
I caught your eye, you smiled,
a long, long time ago…
remember?
I smiled, yes, as I passed,
you did not notice, I passed, it happened.
I smiled. hey, la, ha-hahaha, and took
Kesey's invitation, goodnight, Irene.
I did do the dive into the sea,
with drowning on my mind, going down
beyond the buoyancy, of anyone in my tree.
Realizing nothing since we lost touch,
I thought you all realer than me,
as my shape lost its original intention,
time distorts from
formative decades conforming
affirmational automation, to encorporate
clean machines, still a source of pride.
Meanwhile,
we find it easy recalling toe tapping
impulses, now that you know who you are,
have you traveled
very far… further than any magic school bus?
How does if feel to be,
after all this time, to find today, the same old songs.
Knowing I'm a rich man, who never cashed out.
Never got rich beyond the satisfied mind
I found in a sack
behind the grand old opera house.
Nothing you can do that can't be done, it's easy,
say it true, believe it true, prove it makes long term
sense, after fifty freaking years, the laughing trombones
continue laughing at the simplicity past essentials.
Love needs a better definition,
all together now,
everybody, repeat the mantra,
The peace you make is equal to the peace you find...
living longer than children can really imagine,
growing old, never famous, not too rich and miserable,
to live on with the will to grow older
still, knowing better and worse, at once
-------- who are you to ask of me a reason to be?
Run the numbers, inquire costs and benefits.
Rest in peace today,
every child knows tomorrow and yesterday
are not simply more of the same aimless instant.
-------- who are you to ask of me a reason to be?
Run the numbers, inquire costs and benefits.
Rest in peace today,
every child knows tomorrow and yesterday
are not simply more of the same aimless instant.
During a first time in fifty years binge of Beatles after Rubber Soul, this developed when I got to Magical Mystery tour and recalled the fact that Kesey called his place strawberry fields, because of strawberries. Sublimely simple.
