music Robin Watson
words and vocal rittmo;
Time Travelers
old man hanging round a railroad depot
shaggy beard, lost look in his eye
every woman he sees, seems familiar
he doesn't know how, or from where
but he feels he knows her, and her, and her
from places long ago and far away
just an ordinary day, in the mind of a time traveler
not a one looks back at him
so unnatractive, mangly, and thin
not even a whim of a romance that might have been
he hears music all the same
but the lilting melody, soon becomes
a deafening timpani
so many feet, like thundering hoofs
he must retreat, scamper off under a canopy
it's so hard to be alone, and have this much company
soon the train will pull away and all the people
will be safely in their homes
a moments peace, half an hour, half a lifetime
how could he tell, unless she returns to guide him,
his lone love, but he knows full well he couldn't,
yet he imagines a certain aroma, the curl of her hair
something familiar, something to alert his senses
but then again, as aforementioned, they all do,
they all look familiar, they blend into history's
ongoing, never ending mystery.
she will have to notice him,
in his disheveled state of being
and the most troubling thing of all
is, if she does, will anything be the same
could she still love him, ragged and oh so lame
not the dashing man, the man in shining armour
the man who would risk his life
to see that no harm was done to her
the next train pulls in, and here they come
all the people with somewhere else to go
when one woman leans over and says
oh my God, you're such a sad dog, c'mon love
let's take you home, and clean you up...
rittmo'
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