It flowed, you must’ve known that.
That sort of wisdom, those stories
will send ripples ‘til the end of time,
down a southwest road, into souls,
up into a still standing palace.
We arrived on the same day, forty-four years apart.
Hope to be half as wise, hope to be half as smart.
Soundtrack to a tribe of generations of lives,
free folks seeking out a little bit more.
Few fingers and a soulful sound singing,
scaling your words,
bringing the dead to life.
Up and fly away.
High time’s singing about me right now.
Stellar, blue and he’s gone.
Cup of cold coffee, honest man, the way she shines.
Getting us home where we belong.
Summer homes, stations, Cherise.
Eyes, inspiration, artwork mandolins.
Brought the dead to life,
brought soul some context
and I still have so much time to hear your story.
To me, at the very least, it flowed.
I got up and wandered.
this is your life chuck johnson 