The Gate
the gate to the basement in brooklyn was the only place i ever felt at ease anywhere in brooklyn there was a quiet sense of dread blowing on the breeze something wicked in brooklyn came creeping through the iron gates and the metal plates piled up on the table below candles burned brightly with a ghostly glow the soft and red sofa the elvis lamp the oriental rug and the fender amp they all come back to mind over time slipped away in brooklyn it's like a couple of months passed by in the blink of an eye woke up in brooklyn on a cement porch staring up at the sun through the green grapevines of brooklyn where i spent my days in a daisy glaze overhanging in the garden from noon till night the stained glass window pane refracting the light on a polaroid wall through the kitchy knick-knacks the vintage victrola and the record stacks the thoughts just bring me back i never made it out of brooklyn with the things i walked into that city with all my years in brooklyn and i still don't understand what it's all about the endless streets of brooklyn sing a quiet song of all these things gone wrong
The Beach Song
walking on the beach with you the sky and ocean aqua blue the footprints in the sand would wash away with every wave the castle that we built that day although the moat had drained away was beautiful the sand was made of tiny shells a we all swam out a hundred yards and from the shore it seemed so far the salty ocean water taste still in my mouth a baby shark washed up on land near someone buried in the sand and seagulls landed randomly around us all
now you lie in the green green grass in the sun and it's all behind you or it's all ahead of you either way it's all right there for you kick your shoes off your feet don't lie watching the clouds float through the sky in a couple of days i'll be gone away it'll be nice to see you on saturday the sounds of drummers drumming fills the air while the marching band keeps marching down the fair you can follow the rails of the railroad track but this old trains never coming back transient it's the only way to be bootlegged because you weren't supposed to see i can't tell where it ends it's gone for a minute then it's back again in a couple of days i'll be gone away i hope the sun is out on saturday the fire hyrdant's water floods the street while the marching band keeps marching to the beat\ you can get right up at the crack of dawn or you could lay in bed till the day is gone the whistle blows at the whistle stop from the valley below to the mountain top
Crazy.pdf
Orange.Sunshine.pdf
Show.Must.Go.On.pdf
The.Beach.Song.pdf
Yesterday.and.Today.pdf
Middaydream.pdf
Following the River.pdf
