It's 1969 in Lancaster where time is lame
where the stagecoach calls as
the bandage falls from
the legs of the clock,
where the face looks on in utter shock as
the tick tock bleeds its last.
Once when time was fast and the mornings flew
and we as kids knew what to do
with the leftovers dropped from the feast of the day,
heading on down to skinnydip in the bay and
catching the final splashings of rays from the sun,
racing through that tidal surge and the urge to run
forever
never entered our heads.
Sleep left me to bed down with the awkward nights,
puberty and the rites of man
where passages can twist and turn on
the long road to learn the
lessons in life.
And I enter again through the door of
wanting much more,not knowing
what wanting is waiting inside and ride
down the years, through jam doughnuts and
tears beside and alongside
the shadows which echo the laughs
of my youth.