Codpieces and Capes

[I. We've Got The Music]

In the days when music came "quickly from afar"
We heard your songs in wonder, (still wonder who you are)
You were our teen years of which we can't let go
You were our soul's dream - to make that path our own...

The trail it leads us forward through every year of our lives
Moments of despondency, money fears and strife
And though it seems like nothing will ever sort us out
It's alright (We've got the Music!)
It's alright (We've got the Music!)

I want to form new theories, not harbour old beliefs
As if some vinyl gatefold were the only truth I seek
But if I take the easy road by sticking to the script
It's alright (We've got the Music!)

When the things that we do get out of control
When the stuff we churn out just plugs the holes in our lives
It's time to turn round, time to find a way
And if Neal can find God, then what's in it for me?
Could I take that same road?
Would the truth set me free?

[II. Geronimo - The Sharp End Of A Legacy]

Always in the darkness but always on the move
I stand in your great shadow with nothing left to prove
I wait for your attentions like a helpless little boy
Who just wants to be like you
Who just wants to enjoy your respect, ah, nothing less!

So did I really waste it, the life I could have led?
As a lawyer or a preacher I could have tasted your success
Not lost with noisy rock bands on a fire escape in Leeds
Struggling with the Hammond
And playing 'til my fingers bleed
To an empty room? "Ah, it'll all change soon! I'll show em!"

How can your legacy be not written by the ones who follow you?
Who follow you to the end of the world?

[III. Trucks And Rugs And Prog And Roll]

Codpieces and capes, and all the hotel japes
Your name emblazoned on the tops of your three trucks
And you've got roadies for your drugs and Persian rugs
But on my French book, I'll still draw your logo late at night
To me you're still thin, wearing flares, your hair in graceful flight
In the mirror they're old ..... but not in the gatefold

[A LOST SOUL 44 YEARS LATER:]

And I was there!
(Well... I was at school, but I WAS THERE!)
And every note they played that night seemed like magic in the air
Stuff coming together, stuff that belonged
The critics said "pretentious*", oh my God, they were SO wrong!

(*They were probably right about the RUG)