|
A strange boy is weaving
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A course of grace and havoc
|
On a yellow skateboard
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Thru midday sidewalk traffic
|
Just when I think he's foolish and childish
|
And I want him to be manly
|
I catch my fool and my child
|
Needing love and understanding
|
|
What a strange, strange boy
|
He still lives with his family
|
Even the war and the navy
|
couldn't bring him to maturity
|
|
He keeps referring back to school days
|
And clinging to his child
|
Fidgeting and bullied
|
His crazy wisdom holding onto something wild
|
He asked me to be patient
|
Well I failed
|
"Grow up!" I cried
|
And as, the smoke was clearing he said
|
"Give me one good reason why!"
|
|
What a strange, strange boy
|
He sees the cars as sets of waves
|
Sequences of mass and space
|
He sees the damage in my face
|
|
We got high on travel
|
And we got drunk on alcohol
|
And on love the strongest poison and medicine of all
|
See how that feeling comes and goes
|
Like the pull of moon on tides
|
Now I am surf rising
|
Now parched ribs of sand at his side
|
|
What a strange, strange boy
|
I gave him clothes and jewelry
|
I gave him my warm body
|
I gave him power over me
|
|
A thousand glass eyes were staring
|
In a cellar full of antique dolls
|
I found an old piano
|
And sweet chords rose up in waxed New England halls
|
While the boarders were snoring
|
Under crisp white sheets of curfew
|
We were newly lovers then
|
We were fire in the stiff-blue-haired-house-rules
|
|
|
-----------------
|
STRANGE BOY
|
| Joni Mitchell |
