back in those days when all things mentionable were fables to come and to go. i could be some mans hero and we’d journey to and fro. he’d look like-a this way and have a big shout, grooving down broadway – yah that’s what it’d all be about. but now i sit here in my living room thinking bout how i got to here and now. i listen to my music of stories feeling woe. some woman kissing misters feeling sprinkles in her toes. did i ever think i’d still be flying solo. still got my paints and that airy feeling in my chest. cause i’m a gypsy dancer rocking to the best. my poet still travels through the hills that lie ahead, and i got my acting passion that’s still pounding in my head. i am an artist you see but there are those nights where i long for someone to come join me. i’ll go stare at the naked moon and those long empty streets. it’s time to go to bed now; sweet. neat.