I’m listening to John again. I never knew him but I watch his step.
The heart was miscarrying and defeated, but the face says he laughed like a fool, squinting at the sun. I reckon he was a dancer and a practical joker.
I’m thinking his soundtrack was ska. Cold beer, shoeless feet.
Those horns - all jubilation; flag in the sand, a running dog, a flare in the sky, Lilac Time.
Minds fail, bodies fail, plans fail. Then we'll see how tough we are.
But the soft ones understand this stuff.
Find someone good and love them hard. It is the only insurance we have and the premiums are cheap.
We're starting to sound like each other, you and I. (Or should that be you and me?) We always have.
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