My friend the local legend
Sings stories for icecream cone eaters
He got his trusty Guild He got his voice
Steroids added an octave to his range
He got his attitude He’ll sing
Ballads old Dylan tunes just right
Catch the wind Catch the blues
Red white and bruised
He’ll tell you the real story in between
He’ll resurrect a truth And when
An old navy guy comes closer
He’ll sing him a sea chanty Sloop John B
And call him Sir Thanks for your service
He sings for his supper and he sings for yours
He’ll sing for the poor Tell you who they are too
People who couldn’t pay a medical bill
People in the expanding universe
Fire and Rain people Like someone
In your mirror people whose flying machines
All in pieces on the ground
People who lost their voices
Can’t sing for their own supper
Just people who need to be sung to
Come gather round icecream cone people
And he stops in the middle of the song
To yell at the weed wacker
On the other side of the hedgerow
Drowning out the chorus
And I’m proud to say
This local legend is an old friend of mine
I’m a harp player myself Got all the keys
I got some keys I don’t even know
What songs they’re for But he sings
Somethin’s happen’n here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
And that’s the point isn’t it
That song wasn’t about Vietnam
It was about something happening here
Right on Sunset Boulevard
Sometimes if you really listen
You hear a voice come through the music
As it were your own