I was walking down the street the other day
A sight came before my eyes
It was a little hippie boy I must have been twice his size
His appearence typied his strange breed
Gaudy clothers long stringy hair hanging down
I'd seen perhaps a thousand in my early trips to town
As he walked on beside me on down the block
I noticed no unpleasing smell
He might have been on the weed or even LSD
But if he was I couldn't tell
So we walked together that way through this neighborhood
Finally he turned around to me
And he said friend we're a million miles apart
But you know something we can enjoy the sunshine and the weather
So why don't we put our differences aside and just talk to each other
You see this box beneath my arm to you it's plain, it has no charm
But to someone dearest to my heart this box has played a tragic part
This little one can't tell you himself about his life and how he died
But if anyone else could speak for him I guess I'm qualified
This boy was in Chicago he didn't know why he was there
He was with his family and friends and he didn't really care
You might have been one of those who saw the struggle there on your television screen
The tragic thing is so much else happened that no one else could have seen
A stranger handed this boy a dollar to do a simple chore
To carry a package to a nearby hotel
And when he returned he'd get two more
But when he came back he sort of lost his way walking thru the crowd
One of them things you ask yourself, how the Lord allowed
But when he was found he was like he is now, dreaming sweet and still
And in his little hand was a crumpled dollar bill
Now you can take that dollar, get four cents on it compound it quarterly
At any downtown bank
So they can back some hot new tank or atom bomb
Well what I'm going to tell you now, you can stay or you can leave
You kind of listened to my story so far but just one more thing
It's the same for any hippie, bum or hillbilly out on the street
Just remember this little boy and never carry more than you can eat
Now could you help us sing this song, please
There will be peace in the valley for him now we pray
I will think of the little hippie boy that way
The Flying Burrito Brothers (Chris Hillman)
Copyright @ 1968 Irving Music Inc.(BMI)
From "Gilded Palace Of Sin"
A & M Records
Ekki kjaftur hefur látið sjá sig í sólskini og snjó. Jólamartröðin? Maður spyr sig. Páll Smjörvi kom þó að færa bílinn sinn og fékk einn bolla á hraðferð. Gísli Galdur reykti eina fyrir utan safnið. Olga hringdi og frestaði viðtali sem Huginn ætlaði að taka við listakonurnar um Stofnun um almennaheill. Huginn skemmti sér yfir að afrita gagnrýnan texta frá Evu Heisler sem hún skrifaði árið 2000 í tilefni af samræði við safneign. Sýningin var haldin 22. janúar og stóð til 13. febrúar, það árið. Má með sanni segja að hún rýni til gagns í texta þessum. Unnar kom með hamborgara í bréfpoka og bókverk undir hendinni sem hann og Huginn eiga eftir að signera. Þau verða til sölu í Útúrdúr Bókabúð sem opnar í dag. Bókverkin gerðu þeir úr gömlu drasli frá sýningunni ASÍ Fraktal Grill. Einning mun Unnar selja seinustu sex eintökin af Mjólkurpóstinum, fer þá hver að verða síðastur. Nína er heima að fagna milljónunum sem hún græddi eftir Art Basel í Miami.
The sandman is sending me a special gift
A sleepy dream memory of our first kiss
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
The sandman comes at night i have a request
A snapshot dreamy keepsake of your embrace
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow over here
We'll make shadow plays
We'll dig shallow graves
In my shady shallow cave
The shadow grows longer in my twilight sleep
I wallow and remember, you lock and key
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
Cast a shadow in my direction
Bring back shadow of your affection
Cast a shadow in my direction
Bring back shadow of your protection
Cast a shadow...
in my... direction
Beat Happening