What Are You Listening To Right Now (Part 15)


I'm sorry we didn't get to talk or see each other before you passed ... I hope you weren't too disappointed in me. I feel like you went without knowing the true nature of your child. I wish I wasn't so afraid to tell you that I'm not your son, but a beautiful non-binary child that you raised "like a son" which made me felt abused all my life .. But it wasn't your fault. I would tell you that, but we ran out of time and I didn't know because you passed so suddenly. It's been almost two months and the pain of your loss still stays with me. Maybe one day i'll be able to let you go and also convince myself that you loved me as I was and not how you wanted me to be.
 
 
For those that are not aware, The Grateful Dead let anyone record their concerts. Decent bootleg recordings were via what were called the black statues (black stands with microphones usually recorded with Nakamichi cassette decks). Well, this thing called Dicks Picks asked for them and he mastered the best into albums commercially available.

The first three minutes of this song is right up with my absolute favorites. (All guitar, vocals kicks in at 3m.) Dicks Picks #3.

Eyes of the World, May 22, 1977, Pembrooke Pines Florida.


Right outside this lazy summer home
You ain't got time to call your soul a critic no
Right outside the lazy gate of winter's summer home
Wondering where the nuthatch winters
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own

There comes a redeemer
And he slowly too fades away
There follows a wagon behind him
That's loaded with clay
And the seeds that were silent
All burst into bloom and decay
And night comes so quiet, it's close on the heels of the day

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own

Sometimes we live no particular way but our own
And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home
Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone
Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top