From the recording White Rock Lake

Michell Stroescu is the amazing vocalist.  I play a Tony Francis Weissenborn.  My old friend, the brilliant poet Todd Jeffries, wrote the lyrics.  I wrote the music.


I dream about the
that grew
among the weeds out back.
Shirts flapping on a clothesline
near a jacked-up Cadillac.
Baseball kids yelling from a vacant lot,
many years ago,
long time passing
many years ago
Behind a row house
there is an old garage.
The sun is streaming in
through a dusty window
Inside, a smell of earth
and oil,
there’s a pleasing dampness
to the soil.
Many years ago
Long time passing
many years ago
A rake stands in one corner,
I find a hammer,
a forgotten wrench.
A spider ponders cooler nights
as she crawls across a bench.
Is that the sound of voices,
or just some dry vines
shaking on a fence?
It’s only dead leaves swirling
Many years ago
Long time passing
Many years ago