lucy was 7 and wore a head of blue barettes
city born into this world with no knowledge and no regrets
had a piece of yellow chalk with which she'd draw upon the street the many faces of the various locals that she would meet
here was joshua, age 10, bully up the block who always took her milk money at the morning bus stop
there was Mrs. Crabtree, and her poodle- she always gave a wave and holler on her weekly trip down to the bingo parlor
and she drew
men, women, kids, sunsets, clouds
and she drew
skyscrapers, fruit stands, cities, towns
always said hello to passers-by they'd ask her why she passed her time attachin lines to concrete, but she would only smile
now all the other children living in or near her building ran around like tyrants, soaking up the open fire hydrants
they would say: "hey little lucy, wanna come jump double dutch?"
lucy would pause, look, grin and say, "i'm busy, thank you much."
well, well, one year passed and believe it or not she covered every last inch of the entire sidewalk, and she stopped-
"lucy, after all this, you're just giving in today?"
she said, "i'm not giving in, i'm finished," and walked away
1, 2, 3, that's the speed of the seed
a, b, c, that's the speed of the need
you can dream a little dream or you can live a little dream
i'd rather live it, cuz dreamers always chase but never get it.
now lucy was 37and introverted somewhat; basement apartment in the same building she grew up in
she traded in her blue barettes for long locks held up with a clip, traded in her yellow chalk for charcoal sticks
and she drew
little bobby who would come to sweep the porch
and she drew
the mailman, delivered everyday at 4
lucy had very little contact with the folks outside her cubicle day, but she found it suitable and she liked it that way.
she had a man now, rico, similar, hermit
they would only see each other once or twice a week on purpose
they appreciated space, and Rico was an artist, too, so they'd connect on saturdays to share the pictures that they drew
now every month or so, she'd get a knock upon the front door, just one of the neighbors actin nice, although she was a strange girl, really
say, "lucy, wanna join me for some lunch?"
lucy would smile and say, "i'm busy, thank you much,"
and they would make a weird face the second the door shut and run and tell their friends how truly crazy lucy was
and lucy knew what people thought but didn't care cuz while they spread their rumors through the street she'd paint another masterpiece.
1, 2, 3, that's the speed of the seed
a, b, c, that's the speed of the need
you can dream a little dream or you can live a little dream
i'd rather live it, cuz dreamers always chase but never get it.
lucy was 87, upon her death bed at the senior home where she had previously checked in.
traded in the locks and clips for a head rest, traded in the charcoal sticks for arthritis, it had to happen
and she drew no more, just sat and watched the dawn
had a television in the room that she'd never turned on
lucy pinned up a life worth's of pictures on the wall and sat and smiled, looked each one over just to laugh at it all
now rico, he had passed about 5 years back, so the visiting hours pulled in a big flock o' nothin
she'd never spoken much about the standing of her life until the day she leaned forward, grinned and pulled the nurse aside
and she said, "look, i ain't never had a dream in my life because a dream is what you wanna do, but still haven't pursued.
i knew what i wanted, and did it till it was done, so i've been the dream that i wanted to be since day one..."
well!
the nurse jumped back, she'd never heard lucy even talk, 'specially words like that.
she walked over to the door and pulled it closed behind her.
then lucy blew a kiss to each one of her pictures and she died.
aesop rock. no regrets.
city born into this world with no knowledge and no regrets
had a piece of yellow chalk with which she'd draw upon the street the many faces of the various locals that she would meet
here was joshua, age 10, bully up the block who always took her milk money at the morning bus stop
there was Mrs. Crabtree, and her poodle- she always gave a wave and holler on her weekly trip down to the bingo parlor
and she drew
men, women, kids, sunsets, clouds
and she drew
skyscrapers, fruit stands, cities, towns
always said hello to passers-by they'd ask her why she passed her time attachin lines to concrete, but she would only smile
now all the other children living in or near her building ran around like tyrants, soaking up the open fire hydrants
they would say: "hey little lucy, wanna come jump double dutch?"
lucy would pause, look, grin and say, "i'm busy, thank you much."
well, well, one year passed and believe it or not she covered every last inch of the entire sidewalk, and she stopped-
"lucy, after all this, you're just giving in today?"
she said, "i'm not giving in, i'm finished," and walked away
1, 2, 3, that's the speed of the seed
a, b, c, that's the speed of the need
you can dream a little dream or you can live a little dream
i'd rather live it, cuz dreamers always chase but never get it.
now lucy was 37and introverted somewhat; basement apartment in the same building she grew up in
she traded in her blue barettes for long locks held up with a clip, traded in her yellow chalk for charcoal sticks
and she drew
little bobby who would come to sweep the porch
and she drew
the mailman, delivered everyday at 4
lucy had very little contact with the folks outside her cubicle day, but she found it suitable and she liked it that way.
she had a man now, rico, similar, hermit
they would only see each other once or twice a week on purpose
they appreciated space, and Rico was an artist, too, so they'd connect on saturdays to share the pictures that they drew
now every month or so, she'd get a knock upon the front door, just one of the neighbors actin nice, although she was a strange girl, really
say, "lucy, wanna join me for some lunch?"
lucy would smile and say, "i'm busy, thank you much,"
and they would make a weird face the second the door shut and run and tell their friends how truly crazy lucy was
and lucy knew what people thought but didn't care cuz while they spread their rumors through the street she'd paint another masterpiece.
1, 2, 3, that's the speed of the seed
a, b, c, that's the speed of the need
you can dream a little dream or you can live a little dream
i'd rather live it, cuz dreamers always chase but never get it.
lucy was 87, upon her death bed at the senior home where she had previously checked in.
traded in the locks and clips for a head rest, traded in the charcoal sticks for arthritis, it had to happen
and she drew no more, just sat and watched the dawn
had a television in the room that she'd never turned on
lucy pinned up a life worth's of pictures on the wall and sat and smiled, looked each one over just to laugh at it all
now rico, he had passed about 5 years back, so the visiting hours pulled in a big flock o' nothin
she'd never spoken much about the standing of her life until the day she leaned forward, grinned and pulled the nurse aside
and she said, "look, i ain't never had a dream in my life because a dream is what you wanna do, but still haven't pursued.
i knew what i wanted, and did it till it was done, so i've been the dream that i wanted to be since day one..."
well!
the nurse jumped back, she'd never heard lucy even talk, 'specially words like that.
she walked over to the door and pulled it closed behind her.
then lucy blew a kiss to each one of her pictures and she died.
aesop rock. no regrets.
throatneedle:
modest mouse is playing 2 shows at hammerstein ballroom. one already sold-out. you is going right?
fancier:
hi. your picture is cute x 329829