There's a house with something tender
In the long and polished hall
Where an artist left remembering
A portrait for us all.
In between unsanded surfaces,
Encircled with old gold,
Several frozen faces
Tell the story always told;
Of how we've been
Living out our lives
Years out and in.
And how we've grown,
Separately sure,
But not alone.
When this portraiture gets handed
From the ones who come before
To the ones who do continue
To appreciate its' lore'
Given in its' intricate design
Is so much more
Than lives lined up for passage
Through the fashionable door.
It's how we try
To leave our mark
That somehow dignifies
What we do.
Our mark will speak for us
When we're all through.
Now the world seems stuck together
With some space-age crazy glue
And foundations are all crumbling
And relationships are too.
But assurance and continuance
Continue to be true
In the house with something tender
Though it needs some tending too.
My friend,
I'd like to lend a hand.
My friend,
I'd like to lend a hand.
credits
from Play With Rain,
released June 14, 2013
Andrew J; writer, vocals, rhythm guitar Kevin McCarthy; guitars, keys
Dave Morrison; harp Ray DeForest; bass Rod Reisman; drums
Photo by David Robertson copyright 2012
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