in the evening when the sun goes down...

tomorrow is the day.
who rules.
the popinjay or the man.
hmmmm.
aint nobody here but us chickens.
aint nobody here at all.
ya get that.
now we go into the future not knowing what it really holds.
I suppose somebody has done the metrics and been on the ground and might be able to give some sort of cogent idea about that.
for me its like it never happened.
the only thing that is going to last is the music and that is rapidly becoming the province of musicologists.
and the movies.
nothing like it any more.
a collection of post modern productions looking for real stories and not being able to find them.
but never mind.
as long as every body is happy, a chicken in every pot and a good 10c cigar, let it all hang out.
you were the best thing in my life I do recall.
you and me we had it all.