Paved
I watch the 'pour' and listen to the sound of concrete, more than ever I want to write my initials into the ground where you stand since time is short there is no better chance than now to be a graffiti artist
I don't mind if you sleep on the sand dunes tonight although November is a bit harsh—you may choose for yourself a garage somewhere close by while you wait for the perfect moment to descend upon the hills, where you will roam the vast ledge of Garry Point Park
On the edge of this place people have sent themselves to places you cannot imagine since that is what has been required—a complete surrendering of one kind or another where stones have been thrown and fish have been murdered for the sake of a sweet inexpensive meal
It is here that I look out onto a kind of 'paved paradise' that has been sung about by Joni for the longest time, where it is true—people have wanted their own private paradise just for a time whether a few days or decades
Into the carousel we wander to see the order of what has been played—a near miss can be summed up as the remembrance of today, now and then altogether a family affair where I loved you and you me and we held hands and looked at all things fine
I watch the 'pour' and listen to the sound of concrete, more than ever I want to write my initials into the ground where you stand since time is short there is no better chance than now to be a graffiti artist
