Forty Years Ago Today

Oh if a man tried
To take his time on earth
And prove before he died
What one man's life could be worth
I wonder what would happen
To this world

electric guitars make baby Jesus cry

except for Hendrix and these fine folks (but still unlistenable towards the end)

"Ah strum your guitar -- sing it kid
Just write about your feelings -- not the things you never did
Inexperience -- it once had cursed me
But your youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you thirsty

You can hear your footsteps as you're kicking up the dust
And the rustling in the shadows tells you secrets you can trust
The capturing of whispers is the way to write a song
It's when you get to microphones the music can go wrong

You can't see the audience with spotlights in you eyes
Your feet can't feel the highway from where the Lear jet flies
When you glide in silent splendor in you padded limousines
Only you are crying there behind the silver screen

Now you battle dragons -- but they'll all turn into frogs
When you grab the wheel of fortune -- you'll get caught up in the cogs

First your art turns into craft -- then the yahoos start to laugh
Then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the fall

They're the lost ones out there feeding on the wounded and the bleeding
They always are the first to see the cracks upon the walls"

There only was one choice - Harry Chapin 1977

.

damn that is a long track

for real though, he really was a wicked poet

Legends never die

They're fit, colorful, contorting black men you can cheerfully enjoy on mute . . .

Still a great song.

Sometimes I get this crazy dream
And I just take off in my car
But you can travel on ten thousand miles
And still stay where you are

Rock on!

Rest In Peace!