Charlie

Charlie was a sacred man,

Calls himself the “Charlie Band,”

But he writes no songs.

Carries ‘round a scribble pad,

He scribbles ‘til he ends up mad,

No one’s fault.

That’s when he finds himself,

Finds himself bleeding in the wind.

Write me in.

And there I am between my eyes

In a mirror my disguise

And I fade away.

That’s when I find myself,

I find myself bleeding in the wind.

He writes me in.

He wanted me to find

A silver stream of light.

Float along in prose

On dancing rails in flight.

What a strange new world.

And then I lose myself,

Oh and I go dancing in the wind.

And then he finds himself.

Write him in.