
Music of the Ancients
All of the best tunes are already written, I swear,
Before I was even born.
I spent my teens so acutely aware
I was out of my time and the world didn’t care.
So all the best tunes have already bitten me,
Hooked me, then left me forlorn,
Changed the planet, and now they are history,
Un-recreatable, storied in mystery,
Came and then went and it’s not even fair –
Each time that I sing them I mourn.
It’s not my aloofness, it’s not of my choosing,
It’s downright confusing why I cannot bear
Whatever my peergroup is eager to share –
I call theirs noise and they call mine corn,
Abusing the ears of the other, with no tune to spare.
But that’s just me, ignore my scorn,
I guess we each tootle a different horn.
So set it to music, and that is my essence –
An unrequited adolescence,
Only enlivened by songs from the dead and the square.
But throw in the Trident piano, and baby I’m there !