We stand
In long shadows,
passing through,
passing through,
they’re silent
Wanderers,
adrift, going where they’re taken.
Currents in the void
have shifted;
you’ll never see them again.
Mutters echo softly,
barely audible,
across the way.
Look them in their eyes,
they will not acknowledge.
As surely as time flows,
they will not stay.
Who are you?
Who are you?
I cannot say.
No one knows,
but they all ask
the same of you.
Maybe some day,
The whole world will know my name,
Hang on my every word,
Hum, clap, dance and nod to my songs,
But tonight, I just strum on my cigar box.
Maybe some day,
I’ll travel all over Texas,
Or leave this state,
On a cross-country tour,
Cap it all off with a worldwide voyage,
But tonight, for anyone in earshot, I’ll just strum on my cigar box.
Maybe some day,
I’ll be all over the radio,
The stars themselves would dance,
Because I’ve gone platinum,
Hell, I’d settle for gold,
But tonight, for anyone who’ll stick around, I’ll just strum on my cigar box.
The File Pile 