Here’s a new song we’re working on putting to music and an old photo of my Uncle Eugene (they called him “Zoe”) who died tragically at a young age.  He had a such a thirst for life! This has nothing to do with the song but I wanted to share this picture.

He picked on his old guitar
I sat beside him stoned
everything he played
That night was pulled right from his soul

The night was ripe for dreaming
He crooned a forty’s tune
His fingers held a heartache
As tears fell from the moon

He sang like a man gone mad
He sang like Hank on fire
I watched him break his own heart
As he slid his pick up higher

His strings held the dynamite
As though everyone was blind
It was music soaked in heartache
It was music for all time

I rode his songs on white caps
I saw inside a star
My heart was full of mystery
My dreams were in a jar

He stomped his foot on every beat
His brow was drenched with sweat
He turned his face to heaven
But he wasn’t done quite yet

He sang with the mourning doves
Like he never had a home
His father was the wind and rain
His songs were dipped in gold

I saw a streak of pink
As the sun began her day
I would have stayed forever
But he stumbled on his way

He left without a handshake
He left without his coat
And I have never forgotten
Every single song he wrote

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