In The Beginning by b. c. macdonald
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In the beginning, there was "Peter, Paul and Mary",
Playing on the console hi-fi radio in my folks livingroom.
"The Beatles", "Sugar Sugar", singing "And You And I", still yet to come.
A very furtile and artistic land in music had begun.
With an ear for the glory unsung and "Soon".
So much that rocked this land apart from no other.
Richness only in the eyes of the beholder,
And witness to a higher place, time and space,
With the music that makes it's own. Yes.
I simply follow what I really like and do as I'm told,
I love to talk and walk, making up stories in the skies.
Pretending that everyone I admire is still alive.
Fretful that my time will never come,
When I face the maker and turn and run.
No one really wants to live forever with the bodies we've been given.
Hope is not an option when it's time for me to go.
This gift of singing, I think of as a life of pain and penance,
For songs forgotten, repetitive and old.
Still I come back for more. Yes.
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