I Don't Think You Can See Me
Wrote this years ago while reflecting on some childhood scenes. Local and obscure references obviously speak to a limited audience. But then again, the 70s were pretty obscure.
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nothing else is goin on
and noone left the nowhere town
where life is short, hope is naught
for little more is ever taught
ted and noch and dave the rave
there's simply some who can't be saved
they drove through woods in a little car
we wonder how they got so far
to married genes, endangered fish
and carried out on a little dish
the money game, with all its pieces
can't be lost to the one who misses
a b-ball hoop that once was tall
did disappear - it didn't fall
buried underneath their noses
mark the grave with little roses
i don't think you quite heard me
i don't think you can see me
the attic, cellar, vines and bushes
held the world of tugs and pushes
full of sight and full of sounds
and covered many hollowed grounds
from makamar to bluebell woods
the beach and tracks within our hood
were thoroughfares within our minds
and we were there to sort our finds
and share the gold we brought between us
melt it down and let it bring us
inspiration, rites of spring
to each his own and everything
will come back to ya, whole again
or else it wasn't in the plan
we mapped it out, and broke the rules
we'd look it up but we'd be fools
i don't think you quite heard me
i don't think you can see me
and noone left the nowhere town
where life is short, hope is naught
for little more is ever taught
ted and noch and dave the rave
there's simply some who can't be saved
they drove through woods in a little car
we wonder how they got so far
to married genes, endangered fish
and carried out on a little dish
the money game, with all its pieces
can't be lost to the one who misses
a b-ball hoop that once was tall
did disappear - it didn't fall
buried underneath their noses
mark the grave with little roses
i don't think you quite heard me
i don't think you can see me
the attic, cellar, vines and bushes
held the world of tugs and pushes
full of sight and full of sounds
and covered many hollowed grounds
from makamar to bluebell woods
the beach and tracks within our hood
were thoroughfares within our minds
and we were there to sort our finds
and share the gold we brought between us
melt it down and let it bring us
inspiration, rites of spring
to each his own and everything
will come back to ya, whole again
or else it wasn't in the plan
we mapped it out, and broke the rules
we'd look it up but we'd be fools
i don't think you quite heard me
i don't think you can see me
© 1995 roy walter
January 1, 1995 01:46 AM
