I’ve known men who’ve left it and men who’ve ended it there and men who can’t get it out of their heads.
It’ll make you dizzy, dull and drowning.
It’ll keep your eyes on your shoes, off the skies, and a nasty bloodshot red.
I’ve known men who kept a pocket book and counted every step.
I’ve known the men of today and the ones of tomorrow, and all so tragically attached to sorrow.
I couldn’t tell you that we made the right turns or crossed the right roads
or even treated people kind when they needed it the most
I couldn’t tell you that those days were sunny and bright
I couldn’t tell you that I never picked a fight
We ran from imaginary enemies, some real ones too
We’d chase the sunset till our legs were tired and do it all again, the next day, not knowing these days were few
We’d take long walks in quiet woods as the leaves turned a paper gold
and a lucky bunch of us could run to girls with their arms to hold
So some turned to drugs and some turned to booze, and some ran further away than their own minds could clock
But I hope they’re okay, those kids from my block
Let us alone
Be simple. Share this time, simple mannered.
It is all too harsh now. I get too old
To simply be so young.
“Become a man now”
I tell my tortured body, so young, so rough.
These scars and bumps so well earned, fading now.
I get too angry, I get too damn sad.
It’s all lived here before, in this rough body.
A reincarnation of old sorrow.
Or a reborn hostility.
It all has gotten too harsh for me.
I’ll resign myself to dullness for today
I may try again tomorrow.
“So many people in a hurry to go no damn where”
His name was Dave; he had hard hands and tired hair
He had friends a plenty from what I could gather
all much like him; a lot or rather
No talk of wife, or kids, or mom
He did have a brother
“Oh boy were we crazy”
He’d speak about rivals he kept with the man
“Oh boy we were crazy”
As he remembered a day with a brother in hand
You don’t get many guys like dave nowadays
Who have stories, but a reluctance with names
Perhaps he forgot, didn’t care, or didn’t know
But he sure was kind, Dave from San Fernando
I’m sorry you don’t know her, the girl I once loved
I have a plethora of things I’d say to you now
I’d say ‘em back then but I didn’t know how
I’d talk the impress of impression that I left on you then
When i was a kid and never was again