Before he got into prog
He wasn't sure why this was
He was a boy in its 1970s heyday
Back then it sounded like music
From a forest wired with electricity
But a forest from which
He remained outside
The years staggered on
Like a flock of birds
Gathering rising & landing
His life perhaps laden
With more tragedies
Than the average life
Injuries deaths hospitals
But he couldn't really say
Yes Genesis Rush
Were these names commands
Recollections portraits dreams
Were they elk leaving the night forest
Or had he entered the forest
Melodies circled him as vines
Harmonies rained down on him
As dropping berries as spinning leaves
Even the lyrics were no longer dross
Broken into shards they shimmered
Like flakes of mica or moonlight
"Yesterday a morning came
A smile upon your face
Caesar's Palace morning glory
Silly human race."
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