If you're listening to this song
to tell the truth I don't know if
I'm doing right or wrong
It's all just so confusing
Crickets and warm wind,
Indian Summer now it begins
the first leaves are turning
pale yellow in the trees
highlighting their canopes
In the creative process
I just don't know if I'm winning
or losing, or if it's just coming
out a draw in the wash of things
Do my words reach hearts and minds
or are they just typed on this page and
left behind?
Do they hit the wall never to return,
lost in a notebook
sitting on a shelf stored away
in a file I place somewhere else?
Yes I'm looking for love
I'm looking for acceptance
6,000 miles and 10 years
away from LA, the ocean
and Cathy who danced in the rain
followed me to Firenze, Dubrovnik
and around the Mediteranean Sea
to Jeruslam and Tel Aviv
but now, sometimes i just feel
so terribly alone
and
raw right down to the bone
Don't mean to go all Neil Young
on you,
he's a straight arrow
who knows how to string his bow
and he knows how to sing
Okay, sometimes Life has
fit me like a glove, was it
Luck, or preparation or Providence
from above?
I've got photographs as evidence
to show my potential friends
sitting in a party book embraced
by bookends
If you're listening to this song
to tell the truth I don't know if
I'm doing right or wrong
It's all just so confusing
Crickets and warm wind,
Indian Summer so it begins
God knows, but he's not telling...
why can't s/he just write
a headline in tomorrow's paper
dedicated to me
for all the world to see
Divine intervention of the first
degree, maybe I'm on Heaven's
schedule, but in the meantime
I am detained
Yes, I'm looking for Divine intervention
of the first degree, the kind that opens
your eyes and you can plainly see
your path, my path, pardon me
without stepping on the frog hopping by
enjoying the scenery
Bound to this life, this history
cheese and crackers,
I've tried to make ammends
for my foolishness and the capers
of my youth when I didn't understand
what really matters
Maybe I'll burn some incense
light a candle and
Look at the afghan coat I bought
to give Miss Right
to keep her snug walking
on Winter nights
Holding on to the railing
so afraid to fall
dreaming my future
waiting for your call
My therapist repeats the mantra
over and over
to me, One thing at a time, take
it one thing at a time, please
Loui
I'm going to wrap myself in
Indian Summer and drive
these blues away
Yes, I'm gonna wrap myself
in Indian Summer and wish
these blues away
the apache kid