Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy
Life, to me anyways, is kinda like an online video.... ya click that little arrow... and it goes, and goes and goes. You can stop the video - but ya can't make it any longer. Kinda like life. Grandkids. Seems like yesterday, before they could deftly tackle stairs, they'd slide down on their butt... not spill a drop from their sippy cup, giveya a yummy hug, then, find their spot on the front row of the carpet for Dora.
Now... they go to class. Switch teachers every hour. Text/email their bf/gf's.. NUH UH~~! Uh huh. Sure, one can go back and watch that vid of 'em buttsliding down the stairs - butt, life moves swiftly. Just ask Kelce. Speakinowhich, did anyone else notice his "slow down you move too fast" newly died hair and mustache? Relax Trav, you're a pup.
You just fretted for a couple of years over Social Security (when? 62? 65? 66? 70?), Medicare A, B, D, N, K, Advantage (HELP, I NEED SOMEBODY) and now, when you see similar aged 'whippersnappers' worry, fret..... a yawn comes to mind.
Slow down, you move too fast... you've got to make all this crap last.
Hello lamppost, what'cha knowing
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me?
Doo-it in doo doo, feeling groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy
Now you're talking. Sit, watch flowers grow. Paint dry. Were you aware.... let's see, 365 divided by 7 = fitty-two.. you can sit and watch a hound pooch for fitty-two days and see a 'year' of his/her life. Now you're barking up my tree.
I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life I love you, all is groovy
Life is, can be, like a crotch rocket on Interstate. You seen 'em. I've seen 'em. I'd never wish ill will or spill, but, wouldn't bug me (sorry) if they swallered a june bug maybe even a cicada...
Deeds. "Have to's" at our age, are now "Get to's." As in, we're lucky. Promises? My take, at our age, ain't no need to promise. If there is doubt in our character, it's our own fault.
Dappled. I looked that crap up. 'Marked with spots or rounded patches." Uh huh. We get thin skinned. Physically that is. I AM NOT GRUMPY. Drowsy, sure... but if we nap too much, we'll awaken to another song "Where have all the flowers gone?" And that brings us back to the message here. Life, fleeting. Jet plane. Crotch rocket. Crazy how quickly life moves from Huggies, training wheels, walkers, tennis balls. Victor, don't say Depends. Ok, won't.
So, your majesty the blog writer, is this where you summarize alla the above and then give us 'structions on how to live from this day forward? Ahm.... no. OK, maybe.
Grab some popcorn. Put on a 33 (not a 45 or a 78/crotch rocket). Have a cat, dog or grand on your lap. Try to set the world record for 'smiles given' in an hour (I think it's 4,763). Compliment. Hold a hand. Don't hold in a fart, they're natural, we all do do it. Laugh.
Water the flowers, but not too much. Might grow too fast and wither.
Think. Think about someone you really respect, and the 'why's. Then, emulate them 'why's.
Before you go to bed tonight.............. GET UR BUTT OUTDOORS AND LOOK AT THE BLUE MOON~!
We only get so many. Life I love you, all is groovy
Victor, you already did a blog on this song once. Resist the urge to 'blurt back'. Tain't worth it.
Love, Victurd
No comments:
Post a Comment