We were wandering in our puddle
just left of the middle of America.
Old tunes waltzed right out the doors of your ride,
in your element around this time that year.
People, they were lining up.
Crazies, they were stopping.
Plans, like planets, they were all dropping.
Got forgotten.
Nobody knew they were gonna be late
dancing with strangers, clowns and warriors
‘til 10 o’clock in the morning.
We saw the sunset rise that night.
You looked at me, with your shining light,
and that’s when we hit the beginning.
Spinning vinyl child always dug that style.
Hand me that handle and take it from the top.
I swore the whole world started moving again.
How couldn’t it? Why wouldn’t it?
When it all started, this mind or that heart
or one or the other, the same thing that night,
stopped spinning as they both began to swim.
Cardboard sail’s burning a few feet out at sea.
He was looking at you
while you were looking at me.
We walked through woods to ship this out to sea
but it kept floating back, back like you and me.
Flying, ashes, lightning and cuffs.
Nothing that weekend was ever too much.
Soaring balloons stomping down on my head.
Pulling tails of animated characters,
are we there yet?
Some time in a cell,
some songs from turtles soared through my head,
left me thinking of sunrise, laughter and lines.
Will you be there? I was flying.
Life was light as air that night.
That was living life that night,
that was never dying.
That puddle a little left of the middle of America.
It was flying.
this is your life chuck johnson 