The answer, when it finally came four months later wrapped in tin foil & smelling of thyme, was more in the manner of a correction. It even had a title.
VIVI’S SONG
The soul of a cat, the song of a bird
The strangest tune ever heard
Taps its feet all the same
We live in heaven, heaven lives in us
In the stars & the dust
Torn apart till we meet again
There’s a little girl standing on a stool
Cherub arms stirring up some food
Her crazy sayings, you’d want to write ’em down
Maybe I will when I get old
Now I suppose that song’d be impossible to write
Like digging up a rainbow for a pot of gold
The soul of a cat is the song of a bird
The truth is too absurd
But it’s still true
I made some mistakes, maybe too many
This morning I’m not making any
The sea is full, the sky is blue
I must be the luckiest man alive
Sister, full is the sea, blue is the sky
I was lucky the day you were born, I’m lucky now
Now there are no more songs to write
But the punk rock version’s just about good to roll
I only need one more line
