Yesterday was a day where I uploaded a song I would have written in the raw style of my younger years.

Today?

THIS MORNING: I sat in The Den and thought of how myself as Frail Autumn would interpret the ‘18 years was 50 years ago’ song. So I quickly went through the motions and emotions of what I’ve been doing over the last months. Experimenting on this GarageBand malarkey and hopefully capturing a tune or three.

Like yesterday, this is not a finished song. Basically, reality is that I am waiting for the other Frail Autumn (time of life) guys to join the fray and add the beauty of their own souls to this musical equation. As in all things of elder later life, everything tends to slows down. So it could be next Autumn by the time it happens. Only joking……

Anyways, here’s me now. Yesterday was the chaos of me as back when. And no…..I would not love to be able to step back in time in the blink of a ‘Yesterday’. I love my skin as it is today thank you very much.

It’s the season where the reason is to chase your dream

Blow your blues away

There’s no profit in the pocket of an empty room

Sitting and wasting the days

Don’t hide in the corner in your tip-top hat

Dreaming that you’re back on the stage

Throw down some colour on the black on white

Brighten up every page

You look like an angel all dressed in rags

Miles from your relevant age

Life has a choice of a million kinds

To Escape the cage.

When you’re shattered and you’re tattered and your life’s a mess

It all feels wrong, not right

Pick up your grief from the Autumn gloom

Kick it out into the night.

Stop hiding in the corner in your tip-top hat

And think it doesn’t suit your age.

Become the prophet in the corners of a worn down mind

Pen a tune and seize the day

Sing na, na, na, na, na na

Na na na na na

And chase the blues away. Hey!

Gone are the promises that held your hand

Leading you into the fight.

What once was…. is now has been

Drag yourself into the light

Living was forgiving was for those who did

Played the game and won the prize

No taste of the fruits of a richer kind

Turn everything said to lies.

Eighteen years was fifty years ago