For the Cat - Thermal And A Quarter

Eyes closed fingers poised

Flowers strung about Adonis

The words below go around the sun

The Cat, always deep, always fun

A quiet calm in a wild world

A friendly voice, a seeker’s curse

A faraway look and a searing vision

The Cat, he sang his simple verse

The patterns still a desert haze

Before the moulds are made and the lines are strung

Before grown-up good sense betrays

The Cat;

and all the stories sung

So ask the questions even if

You have no answers

Tell your wide-eyed tales

For the Cat, he never made the sale

He loved his dog, he got on a train

A stranger in a known land

The words they stuck and the tunes remain

The Cat, he took another stand

But he sure could dance

He sure could dance

You know the Cat always lands on his feet

Watch him move…