Feed Your Head

Still on the hill: the music surrounds me

Album cover

Skylark songs lit up America
fifty years ago, on a windswept moor,
songbirds-skylarks soar into the Woodstock air
we were there
now, we trudge through memories.

Her coat was brown with feathers
she sang songs too warm, too hot for today
still, I have that evening tucked away,
in my book of wonderland music,
let’s soak up words, enable the dead to speak,
like scissor sisters in white head-dresses not wrapped
in the constricting costumes of the past
hint at an impending farewell
all things must pass:
the sounding of a bell

whispers softly, as wolves wait at the doors of hell
for me, lying here surrounded by people I don’t know,
happy as only the young can be be,
someone time-travels back into the future of me
maybe I’ll make a better fist of being myself next time round.