© Gregg Morris |

Footwear at a Funeral

Blood-red moon shows the fire in the sky.
I wrestle with the truth, while he prepares to die.
8 hours of highway radio helps to pass the time.
But it’s Papa Staple, singing about Luke, that fills my mind.

It’s just all footwear at a funeral.
But the guest of honor don’t really care at all.
Your 15 cent shine that you got down the line
Won’t carry you home when you fall.

60 years is short enough for the questions in your mind.
36 years is long enough to be careful with what you find.
But Mr. Soul really knows exactly how I feel.
“Helpless in my earphones, helpless for real.


It’s funny about a gathering of the people that you know.
Neighbors, friends & good friends with best wishes they bring to show.
A collective sigh, a tear in the eye and a low murmur of rest in peace.
And me, I’m in the corner singing, “I Shall Be Released”.