Bedsheets & Brooms
When I was in my early 20s, a friend of mine had this weird inclination to build a fort in our apartment. So, as grown men, we grabbed everything we could find and propped this thing up in the majority of our living room. When we weren't destroying the apartment, we would spend every night we could in the city. We had our spots like every does. We didn't know it, but in a matter of years some of us would be out of state, and none of our lives would look at all similar to that moment. Something about what we built together in our living room, and the network of places we enjoyed has always stuck with me. The places don't feel the same when I drive by them, but there's that sense of joy and longing that sit with me in that moment.
This song is a farewell to a life stage I know better than to try to relive, a promise to be there for those who were with me at that time. This is personal of course, but I think we've all got a version of this. My best friend had me sing this for him and his wife on their wedding day and it's never meant more than it did in that moment.
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In den Warenkorb
Wunschliste
Verse
I'll make a way for you
With paths that only you and I know
You'll carry home with you
For where you will go we'll be there too
Dressed in our coats and our Sunday shoes
Verse
We'll build our city as we choose
Cereal boxes paper and glue
And there we will wait for you
On our sky scrapers with telescope hands
A prodigal homecoming band
Chorus
So look to me friend
If your feet can walk I think that mine can
Too young to laugh too old for crying
As fortunate souls we filled our homes with brighter years
Verse
These things I hope to be true
In our city made of bedsheets and brooms
We'll not let our sore souls intrude
As finally now I do believe
The old silver creek and the sound of the streets
Were something of warmth and home to me
Verse
For though they so vividly conspired
They quickly regress for the mind to retire
A squirrel trapezin' a telephone wire
Chorus 2
But look to me then
If the city should fall while we are growing
Too old to laugh too old for dying
I'll sing you a song of cities strong that you might hear
© Steven LaFollette 2019
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