Someone sent a picture of me
Smiling. As I used to be
Natural in a natural light
Looking out from black and white
I sat and stared into the past
I tried to understand at last
One life cut in two by time
Was it his life? Was it mine?
I tried to whisper in his ear
He would not listen, would not hear
I tried to light the path ahead
He would not see, would not be led
I thought I knew the boy I saw
But I don’t think so any more
A memory from way back when
I didn’t even know him then
Just taking the opportunity to showcase a few dudes who were very important to me way back when. Several of them no longer on the planet. But the legacy remains.
I was mentioning my lack of French to someone earlier and was reminded of a friend who once recorded an album of covers, one at least of which was sung in the language of love. I don’t think that he spoke a word of French himself then and nor does he now.
I just thought that it might produce a soft giggle on a quiet Easter Sunday.
This being is a hiding place
Where I might not be known
Where I deny the being
Into which I’ve grown
A picture I can stand behind
A picture. Paper thin.
As pretty as a picture
A life that I’m not in
Protection from the atmosphere
Shelter from the rain
A bandage for the bleeding
Comfort for the pain
Hiding here behind the walls
Elaborate disguise
My lips, you see them moving
But you can’t see my eyes
But the picture it is fading
The walls are tumbling down
There’s light behind the curtain
Behind the mask, the clown
So you can see my shadow
In a certain light
For I know that I betray myself
With every word I write
Richmond Road 