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
* I think I heard him right, I heard him young
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...
