simplicity is what you do;
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the dialogue is short and sweet
with those who would have held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
A memory is in your book
that time and grace forbid you show,
you know the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh lunch” I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter.”
I love the gentle ways of you,
the elegance and beauty. Stark
simplicity is what you do,
it’s sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversations short and sweet
with friends held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
A memory is in the book
that time and grace forbid you show,
you know the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh lunch” I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter.”
I wouldn't change a thing in you,
so sensible and lovely, stark
simplicity is what you do
it's sun or shadow, dark or light.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversation's short and sweet
with those who, briefly, held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
Memories are in your book,
that time and grace forbid you show.
You turn the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter."
Entropy and chaos discern
The sweet, discerning ways of you
simplicity is what you do,
it’s sun or shadow, light or dark.
These are the simple ways of you,
the black and white and lovely, stark
simplicity is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversation's short and sweet
with those who, briefly, held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
Memories are in your book,
that time and grace forbid you show.
You turn the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter."
I love the simple ways of you,
the black and white and lovely. Stark
simplicity is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversation's short and sweet
with friends who, briefly, held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
Some memories are in your book,
that time and life forbid you show.
You turn the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter."
I love the simple ways of you,
the black and white and lovely. Stark
simplicity is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversation's short and sweet
with friends who, briefly, held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
Memories are in your book
that heart perceives but grace denies,
you turn the page with but a look,
discretion don’s a thin disguise.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter."
Memories are in your book
that heart perceives but grace denies,
you turn the page with but a look,
discretion don’s a safe disguise.
I love the gentle grace of you,
the black and white and lovely. Stark
simplicity is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversations short and sweet
with friends who, briefly, held your hand,
with wistful dreams and fond deceit.
A passing heart lives in your book,
that time and grace forbid you show.
You know the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter."
I love the gentle ways of you,
the black and white and lovely. Stark
simplicity is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the conversations short and sweet
with friends who, briefly, held your hand,
with wistful dreams and fond deceit.
A passing heart lives in your book,
that time and sense forbids you show.
You know the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter."
I love the simple ways of you,
the black and white and lovely. Stark
reality is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand
the conversation’s short and sweet
with friends who, briefly, held your hand,
with fleeting dreams and fond deceit,
a wistful note within your book,
of passing hearts so long ago.
You know the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh, lunch.”, I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter.”
I'll trouble you no more, but go
My way, where you shall never know
you never say I told you so.
Recorded in your history book
I love the gentle ways of you,
the elegance and beauty. Stark
simplicity is what you do,
it's sun or shadow, light or dark.
You dance your dance, you take your stand,
the dialogue is short and sweet
with those who might have held your hand,
with wistful dreams, with self deceit.
Memories are in your book
that time and grace won't let you show,
you know the page but never look
and, like as not, it’s better so.
“Oh lunch” I hear you softly mutter,
“Jelly, bread and peanut butter.”
~ Dean Neighbors~