On a mantle, made of oakwood,
There's a photograph from my childhood.
It was taken in the desert, early light
I look a lot like a leprechaun
With a Mexican vest and a red hippie hat on.
Maracas in my left hand, stick in my right.
There are canyons; there are caverns
There are border roadside taverns.
I am held captive by the big, blue, sky above me.
She naps with the TV on.
I smell the June cut grass from my pappy's lawn.
I play alone in the little room upstairs.
There are Lincoln logs and cookie tins,
Colored blocks, and wars to win.
I draw, and I dream, and beat my drums up there.
There are circus lights and maple leaves.
There are daffodils and dogwood trees.
I am held captive by the big blue sky above me.
Now the coffee's strong,
And the fruit's all wrong,
And my wakeup call's for somebody else.
And the TV's hoax and neurosis jokes
Always keep my laughing at myself.
And I laugh a lot; that's what I do,
And I learn the things I never knew.
And I see canyons I see caverns
I see border roadside taverns.
And I am held captive by the big blue sky above me.
I am held captive, only, by the big blue sky.
I am held captive by the big blue sky above me.
