You're at the bridge now, cross it son,
but try not to look down.
On the other side if you make it there
you'll wear a golden crown.
Just a few more steps and a few more tears
and the singing will be loud,
come on boy you really tried,
I am sure she would be proud.
A man can't grow on the dying side,
there is no feeling in his soul
an uptight mind of emptiness
just trying to be whole.
The social wars break him down
to where he just can't feel,
but maybe on the other side,
the wounds will slowly heal.
Careful now we don't want to fall
there's a hand at the other end
My god I hope she can realize
how very much I need a  a friend.
Look straight ahead at her open arms
and pray they'll hold you tight.
it's a long way down if you start to slip
and you'd soon be out of sight.
Just one more step, you need her mind
it could be just the final key
to the gold at the bottom that we find.
Hey wait girl don't turn and run away,
he watched her face and he crossed the bridge
and he has so many damning words to say.
Don't back up, my arms just can't reach
and I haven't touched you yet.
Help me now or I'll surely fall
and they'll watch my gravestone set.
The bridge is getting shaky now
she's turned to hit the road
The hang ups start to pull him down
and he drops his heavy load.
He can hear the music on the other side
as the bridge begins to crack.
It's too late for help he's going down
his body's on the wicked rack.
A silent thud and it's over now
and they sweep the mess away,
and carry the loser's beaten head
on a shining silver tray.

Somewhat quickly I would run, upon the field of green and sand,
leaping boldly through the air, seldom caring where I’d land.
Reaching out o’er space and time to catch a ball of light
to capture and to hold it and end its destined flight.
I bounce, I fall, I throw and run, like a firefly in heat
trying hard to show the world the magic in my feet.
Up again with hands of gold I play like Nero’s toy
and fiddle with my leather glove as if it were a ploy.
A way to win the diamond war when all was said and done,
I loved to stand and yell support in the blazing summer sun.
The grass was always greener there, even in the dark
A field without its players always looks so stark.
I’m satisfied I’ve had my turn, now others come to play
I pray their joy will be as grand, as mine that summers day

Today was a day of music and contemplation
walking away with a faraway destination.
try to forget and yet still remember,
from early April to late September.
Days get longer and much more fragile
the old body gets less and less mobile.
For once days are duly recorded
even though the finality is so sordid.
Recollections are hard to hold,
memories are there but, all so old.
When was my last warm summer night,
is there another one within my blurred sight?
Every hair is turning gray in every mirror
I wonder is the cold ground getting nearer?
I hear voices calling me late at night
caught up in white noise that isn't quite right.
Dreams aren't long enough to really haunt
but there seems time to painfully flaunt.
"Say goodnight Gracie" is what he said
then all the radios finally went dead.

The fence was so high and the wall so thick and I was armed simply with a stick
the grass was high and grabbing on, my soul was weak my energy gone.
I ran with all my body could endure, looking for a decease I still couldn't cure.
An answer I couldn't find, a bell that wouldn't ring, a song I could never sing.
I was lost in other words hanging from an old oak tree, that only some can see.
Where do you go when everything has been seen and all the fruits are lean?
Climb and climb and run for your life, don't look back at torment and strife.
You will only survive in glory, if you recognize that you will always be a story.
We all dance to a different tune, knowing the song will be ending soon.
There will be a symphony amongst the screams and blooms within all the dreams.
Don't go to bed empty or walk away sad, don't leave your thoughts alone and mad.

Music is the only remedy to the pain of deep misery
the notes light up the soul with sweet history.
We remember the dance that  made us smile
we treasure the simple spot on the radio dial.
If only life was always music and notes
it would be a castle in heaven without moats.
But alas, gold and tone are not easy to find
they are a mystery to all but those with a special mind.
I love to dance around my room at night in crazy swirls
thinking of my history and all the sweetest girls.
Now I am old and all is just a distant past
thrown upon a table top when the die is cast.
So I wait until the closing act to seal my final fate
the hardest part is when the old have to sit and wait.

Blood drips slowly through the tubes of my heart, like a lazy plumbers mistake,
I wonder as I listen to the gentle drops is it maybe for my own sake?
Do we all feel love's pain  as a stab to the heart, or is that where we normally start?
I hear voices in the night, some cry and others sing
I hear bells in the morning, some dull and others ring.
Everything is a sign of something else, rolling in our head,
maybe we wonder the difference...alive or maybe dead.
Throbbing souls create a drumbeat in harmony and doubt,
those of us so used and done are feeling sadly left out.
The parade will march right by us and leave us at the curb,
like a statue old and worn that we should never ever disturb.

Gentle whispers stir me on to places I've never been
steering me towards the many stars I've never seen.
Perhaps a trip to paradise will sometime lead me home,
then I will no longer search or feel the need to roam.
I know the road will end somewhere that's warmer then today,
and never a need to strive for happier things to say.
Do we all follow special paths that force us to dream
lost in wonder and magic where things aren't what they seem?
There is no shame in wishing just sadness in losing the chance
to hear the beautiful music and share the wonderful dance.