Alfred's Poetry

you are so beautiful

the unknowable

intensified breath of morning

deep inside me

and i want to

care for you.

in the smell of leaves

a child

jumpshouts

over a rock

in timeless movement of air

and lands breathless

in coolness...

fog glowing

with pins of light

the wind rushes

the leaves like rain.

you are dazed

wondering

why you are dry.

princess

who lives in the country castle

each sunrise

you reach your hands

across the morning

and wash the night

from your eyes

with the dew

and when I see your dew swept smile

it makes me light as the spring breeze

[Sent to Martha in 1972]

it's winter now

but summer comes with the song

somehow more than before

a twisted trail of memories

wind that pushes the sail

from port to hazy harbor

but stops short,

i close my eyes and listen

i'll tell you what i remember

since september

a pizza parlor with a juke box

a cup of root beer

walking a ravaged sidewalk

with an irish girlfriend

a drunken talk

and the song

and me being the song

Cold dripping

underclothes

and raising fog

to peer through

city streets

rain in the morning

warning of dusk

and my misery breaks

as the sun shines

through the heaviness of fog

halleluyah for warm rain

halleluyah warm rain

so we danced

as leaves swirling

in the rain

with the sun's blessing

never landing, but laughing

and sang

crouched on tenement steps

sang slowly trancelike

with newspapers for caps

the sun dried us

while the rain cleaned us

and joy was a much handled sorrow

of rain before sun.

my fantasy for fall

is the turning of leaves

all changing colors

and the turning of something

inside me

now i am mellow

winter imprisons !!!

with coldness-that encompasses

the body yet pushes forth

the heat of man

spring is rebirth

from the tyranny of snow

(it is the most

of all the times

that never were)

lovers in the fields

the changing season yields

summer is the shadows

sweeping the plains

dry thoughts and

quick rains

it is you

turning from the day

lying in bed

but listening

with half an ear

to what the crickets said.

I wonder if things change

I keep changing

All the time

My opinions

My tailor

And my barber

Whose life is this

i'm living?

Who'se in charge here?

one hundred chefs

for just one stew.

i balance my life

into imbalance

talking in my sleep

about consciousness

every time someone says:

take me to your leader.

i laugh

i think i know there isn't one.

I am hoping that we

can purge the past

from despair -

commanding rain

to cleanse our days

of seeming sorrow,

and sun

to make her warmth

as newness.

Oh joy!

you are the much

handled sorrow

of rain after sun.

the mind is a midwinter thaw

the ice melting to water

and we rising from sleep

in fluid afterthought

almost ready for action,

yet the cold coming

and arresting change

telling us to wait

holding the world in suspension.

and the warm again

slowly stirring the world to motion

and then the cold,

and so we wait

wait for a change in the weather

when we are the weather

and the wind.

These Things that are no longer

Rooted in my earth

you come gently

tender

new leaf

tearing

green moistness

as whistles for children.

With beauty

not fixed in wax

but as cells

changing inside

with the seasons.

Overflowing

my roots but never saturating

singularly--

the earth inside.

Now I see

signs of life

telling me

in your breathpulse

These Things

that are no longer.

The water like your love

The water like your love floods swelling-

onto the beach in a flowing line of sorrow.

I am dreaming - there is no clash of earth to water.

You left me behind with salt-lined lips,

as I flew for the moment

which drew back as the sea.

I hear a distant lapping on the beach,

water sighing on the sand,

and slowly fadeing.

Like our love drawing back - leaving only

your seaweed hair upon the beach.

[Given by Alfred to Murray in 1969 (approximately)]

turning

smiling

she claspt her hands

running a finger

down their age,

and tried to tell him

that she was tired that

their love must change.

finally, he knew it,

and thought of

when he was a child,

and smiled.

it was good.

we have looked

in each other's eyes

seeing sunrise.

he touched her lightly;

she thought of when she was mother,

and said nothing.

he stood somewhere else

in his manhood,

or childhood-

perhaps before that.

she knew it was good

to have gotten here

to have turned.

he smiled

thinking of no ending

and no beginning,

yet not knowing.

he didn't care,

and he turned.

[Marlboro College 1970-1971]

Schoolbell

Seeing only the haze

where the river--

walking on lovelegs

and sitting

among twigs and rocks,

we touched and kissed

without passion.

A smile flickers--

playfully between us;

I pick her up

she struggles'

gasping

circling--fell.

And through her eyes, I see,

gushing water and God's calm

sunlight on a patch of green--

now dancing in a dream

on our backs.

And we must go

some bastard god

has rung a bell

indicating, direction

pointing

to a blackboard

without memories.

The Teacher

(HERE IS RELEVANCE ! Right here

my fingertips

can not hold it dear...

scratch my back-

I have an itch

that time does not erase.)

....................

He recalls many tales

(none of which I know)

while I sit in feigned interest

of bigone days

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN !

He tells pathetic jokes

and I laugh on cue

but stretch and YAWN too.

TODAY-he'll read us a STORY!

One that's gross and gruesome...

.......................

But I only sit

while we listen to tales

of men in time recording time.

Is it worthwhile?

No one forces the question.

We are students and Must play

Our mental pantomime.

Because

Godgiven is the gift of time

to erase and recreate !

All that, now slips

through our fingers-

that dream-like lingers

in our minds.

Well...

Recreate we can and do-

like the war to end all wars !

(The whore to end all whores

stands on the street corner

with bombs for tits...)

And my mind lingers.

walking down the street

my shoes on slush

to the beat of an old song

and i am almost there

but here the ghosts throng

to cloud my way

this is not today

but yesterday or tomorrow

or somewhere deep in time

the footsteps rhyme...

but this is not the way

here my shoes meet slush

and the winds rush

and the ghosts throng

and the song the song is the same

with the lyrics clipped

i forget the name

and they will not stop

but this is not today

and i'm walking

thinking i'm not growing older

thinking this is today

this is not today

let's go to the dining hall

i shall be older in the spring

and have another meal

it's part of the deal

some food so the body won't deteriorate

while the minds cultivate

we are old priests

forming our decisions

for the world's precisions

now we are doctors

for the serpents have risen

and we shall find the cure

those who follow will endure

we have traded our nightsticks

for rectal thermometers

but that's much later

this is not today

[Marlboro College 1970- 1971]

nancy

whose waking dream

is to fly from the bondage

of vague words

into the all consuming dance

to be unearthly

and still simultaneously

rooted in the richness

of all and everything

Dream Dance

Quiet joy with blond lightness

I dreamed of finding you

like cooling mist

for my jungle mind.

Dreamed:

we were dancing

(and you blushed

at words)

I helplessly held

you, delicate,

as we swept circles

of dream music with rhythm

we created.

I kissed moonlit eyes

not wanting

seeing more--

we danced on on

hair flying--on

But I lost you

(thinking I would be gone

only a moment

back

to a questioning reality)

Lost you in my waking

after waiting

waiting madly

to prolong

our awe filled

dream dance.

dance to control

the wind and the way;

i know nothing

i must say

about the dance.

We are loud voices

comprehending the togetherness

of flashing lights and beer bottles

dancing in the rubble

with one ear to music

and three feet to the wind

navigating as you would

an iceboat with fingertips

but the wind or music

will change and we'll be caught

ridiculous in the vortex

of forces that have passed

and we'll know nothing

for a moment

but the beat of music

or the wind of life

what we must understand

in the showplace of time

in the turning of hand

is that there is only the dance

Sit Still Dear

Sit still dear

when I tell you

that I lost my voice.

It happened en route

to get the kids at the dentist.

( I couldn't tell him

about your molar,

but he was understanding. )

The kids were funny:

daddy daddy

what's the matter daddy--

cat got your tongue?

kids are like that.

I'm driving them home.

I hope the grocer understands

when I point to your order,

and the policeman...

you know--it's strange

all the things one can't do

without a voice;

I never thought of it.

Never thought of it...

Almost home now.

I miss you; didn't know it was possible

to miss someone so much.

the kids are giggling--

still think it's funny,

and my hands are sweating

hoping your arms will understand.

Wishing I could sing now

or whisper thoughts to you.

And wishing somehow

I could tell you

about this day.

CALM OF NIGHT

WITHIN THE SWELTERING BRONX.

I CAN NOT SLEEP;

I AM THINKING OF OUR CONVERSATION

A GENTLE WHISPER

LIKE GRANDPA'S STURDY CLOCK

A SHARING TIMEPIECE

Cold grey sky and the reality

of rocks beneath my toes.

It's six o'clock in the morning

and grandpa is not far from here

dying slowly. I should visit him.

This morning I awoke with a start,

and wanted to visit him,

but six in the morning

is a very curious time

to visit a dying man.

(one has to walk off the sleep

and shudder at the reality)

But he can't die--not now

not while I walk the sea pounded rocks

and think of nothing but death.

And this dawn rising slowly

on the yellow walls,

and heating silently the air

inside the pane of glass

until it slithers with a medicinal smell.

And ninety years of human dignity

contracts in one unknown moment

to lie, and lie patheticly.

But in memory now

there's a different smell

of grass and wild lilacs--

he always loved that smell.

what is this force

turning inward

under force

to each man his cross

til he stumbles

on a rock on the road

inside himself

and curses things

for being as they are

finding excuses

and coffee understandings

for waiting

waiting in the name of waiting

o name

name name na me

give me a name

that i might understand

the heaviness of gravity

the anticipation

in the endless waiting

for the waiting to end

our faces turn towards

a voice raised

alive with the excitement

of noise

and the relief of other

**********************

yet he whispers your name

in the fire the water

the earth and the air

ANCIENT VOICES BREAK THROUGH

MY CONTRIVED THOUGHT

IN AN INHUMAN RAGE;

THEY ARE TESTING MY SOUL

TO SELECT AND THINK

UPON SOME SINGLE THOUGHT

( A THOUGHT TO BE DESTROYED

AND RECONCEIVED IN CONFUSION.)

CYNICALLY I KNOW THIS

AND I THINK

OF HUMAN DIGNITY

AND MUST LAUGH

AT THE SOUL'S INNOCENCE.

VOICES DEVOURING AND

LEAVING BROKEN DREAMS,

AND A NOTION OF FIRE.

IT MUST BE

THAT MY EYES ARE FUSED

IN THE SOUL'S UNREADINESS

we all go down to death

in the batting of an eye,

or the slowness of breath

those who remain sigh

for those before,

o herald in the night

light the way

for there must be leaders

followers

extras

as well as prima donnas.

you wish these things were different

for life is short

and so much suffering

and there is time

not always steady

the dime tapped on the counter

and the clothes washed on the line

o herald in the night

light the way

for those who come by day

yet have no sight

a flower

gentle as breath

touching the earth

with strong fine roots

trembles slightly in the wind

but holds herself

up to the sun

beneath the mistleaf tree

a squirrel

surveys the multicolored oneness

of winter

poised in coolwet breath

and suddenly

the world is only fear

with running and greybrowness

i wonder what she hears

you run like a frightened doe

from the hand of a hopeful child

who wanted to watch you

and know you

and his hope becomes violence

the doe doesn't know the feeling of child

only the fear of the hand

and doesn't know that she doesn't know

not carried by a stale emotion

or pulled by an idle thought

or stretched by a muscle

you are stopped

for a moment

and receive the breath

and the deep rich bloods flowing inside

and for a moment

you are not a part

of the merciless movement of things

but a something that is close to something

beyond understanding

John, Al's brother, & a group of actors created this order for his poems which were read in clusters in segments of the 1984 Cape Ann Theatre Production's "fund raiser" A Brother's Tribute staged 10 years after Alfred's death. Although, it was impossible to order most of Al's undated poems chronologically, it was thought that there was a thematic cohesiveness in each actor's poem cluster.

Also, he didn't title most of them, but John decided to underline

the 1st line of each poem; so that serves as a title of sorts.

The following 2 poems were read at the end of Al's last poem cluster:

Supplication For Alfred Lucius Hart

JOY

eludes

yet i avoi-

oh Lord, if I could find it

my soul

would plot

not

against itself

nor

Will

instinct

to thwart its intent.

JOY

eludes

yet i avoid-

oh Lord, if I should find it

lack

would transcend'

as fleshy temple

its essence

and

one in purpose

with love and beauty.

Joy

eludes

yet i avoid-

oh Lord, when I do find it

will dread

not

incapacity

nor

doubt if

Worthy be.

[John Lay Hart

12/12/75)

For Alfie

(whom I never met)

Some voices sound so dissonant

to the human ear

that we reject their song:

an old man

imprisoned in his bed

who rails against

the impotence of death...

a child come into life

misshapen,

twisted out of

childhood hope...

a visionary

- a madman -

tormented by the cursed talons

of the mind...

while we who are whole

go down to death with blinders

safely strapped about our senses,

unaware that as it echoes

in this darkened plane

the Truth finds

harmony

in wounded song.

Jane Bernhardt

A Brother's Tribute (Excerpt)

Biographical Sketch

Alfred Hart was born on April 15th, 1950 (Tax Day) and died on July 4th, 1974 (Independence Day). He's been gone now for ten years, so I felt this would be a good time to remember and honor a little of who he was and what he did. Except for Juliet's monologue and the three poems written by others noted in the program, he either wrote or acted in all of the excerpts in this presentation.

Alfred was a conscientious, dedicated and outstanding actor and poet who wrote about 45 to 50 poems and performed in approximately 40 productions. He excelled in public speaking in elementary school with 2 or 3 cockney Albert Ramsbottom recitations (1 of which you just heard and which he taught me) and 2 famous Shakespearean monologues and won an award as the best public speaker in the school. Here [Slide] we see him hard at work preparing for one of his recitations. Later at South Kent School, he acted in 3 shows including Grandpere in The Happy Time [Slide] and the judge in Harvey [Slide] - both rehearsel shots. After doing a few small parts in Twelfth Night under Nan Webber's direction with among others Debbie Kidder and Jennifer Kite (now an in - law of mine), he helped direct a children's theatre workshop for 2 summers at the Cambridge School in Weston and wrote, produced and directed a III Act play there with a class of 7th graders [Slide]. In his 2 years at the Cambridge School, he also performed Fah in The Emporer's New Clothes [2 slides] and Hortensio in Taming of the Shrew.

After that Al apprenticed at the Loeb Theatre in Harvard Square for a few shows then moved on to BU and a number of productions at Marlboro College including playing the Dutch Courtesan and Moon in The Real Inspector Hound. Then he worked at Keene State College as a resident actor in a summer repertory company doing 5 shows there and finishing off the season as Hero in A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum on Cape Ann under Myron Yorra's direction. In the fall of 1971 Alfred went to the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre in New York and began his most rigorous training to be a professional actor. Most of these next 6 slides represent a sampling of some of his resume picture possibilities.

Bruegel's The Fall of Icarus featured at the beginning of "A Brother's Tribute"

The Following Songs were sung or played in the Tribute:

Blowin’ In The Wind (Bob Dylan)

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

What did you learn in school today (Tom Paxton)

What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine?
I learned that Washington never told a lie
I learned that soldiers seldom die
I learned that everybody's free
That's what the teacher said to me
And that's what I learned in school today
That's what I learned in school

What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine?
I learned that policemen are my friends
I learned that justice never ends
I learned that murderers die for their crimes
Even if we make a mistake sometimes
And that's what I learned in school today
That's what I learned in school

What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine?
I learned that war is not so bad
I learned about the great ones we have had
We fought in Germany and in France
And someday I might get my chance
And that's what I learned in school today
That's what I learned in school

What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine?
I learned that our government must be strong
It's always right and never wrong
Our leaders are the finest men
So we elect them again and again
And that's what I learned in school today
That's what I learned in school

Patterns

(Simon & Garfunkel)

The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl.

Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.

From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.

And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should,
For in darkness I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.

“O Lucky Man!” (Alan Price)

If you have a friend on whom you think
you can rely - You are a lucky man!
If you've found the reason to live on and
not to die - You are a lucky man!
Preachers and poets and scholars don't know it,
Temples and statues and steeples won't show it,
If you've got the secret just try not to blow
it - Stay a lucky man!
If you've found the meaning of the truth
in this old world- You are a lucky man!
If knowledge hangs around your neck like
pearls instead of chains - You are a lucky man!
Takers and fakers and talkers won't tell you.
Teachers and preachers will just buy and sell you.
When no one can tempt you with heaven or hell-
You'll be a lucky man!

Many Rivers To Cross (Jimmy Cliff)

Many rivers to cross
But I can't seem to find my way over
Wandering I am lost
As I travel along the white cliffs of dover

Many rivers to cross
And it's only my will that keeps me alive
I've been licked, washed up for years
And I merely survive because of my pride

And this loneliness won't leave me alone
It's such a drag to be on your own
My woman left me and she didn't say why
Well, I guess I'll have to cry

Many rivers to cross
But just where to begin I'm playing for time
There have been times I find myself
Thinking of committing some dreadful crime

Yes, I've got many rivers to cross
But I can't seem to find my way over
Wandering, I am lost
As I travel along the white cliffs of Dover

Yes, I've got many rivers to cross
And I merely survive because of my will...

Another hundred people just got off of the train
And came up through the ground,
While another hundred people just got off of the bus
And are looking around
At another hundred people who got off of the plane
And are looking at us
Who got off of the train
And the plane and the bus
Maybe yesterday.

It's a city of strangers,
Some come to work, some to play.
A city of strangers,
Some come to stare, some to stay.
And every day
The ones who stay
Can find each other in the crowded streets and the guarded parks,
By the rusty fountains and the dusty trees with the battered barks,
And they walk together past upholstered walls with the crude remarks.
And they meet at parties through the friends of friends who they never
know.
"Do I pick you up or do I meet you there or shall we let it go?"
"Did you get my message? 'Cause I looked in vain."
"Can we see each other Tuesday if it doesn't rain?"
"Look, I'll call you in the morning or my service will explain."
And another hundred people just got off of the train.

It's a city of strangers,
Some come to work, some to play.
A city of strangers,
Some come to stare, some to stay.
And every day
Some go away
Or they find each other in the crowded streets and the guarded parks,
By the rusty fountains and the dusty trees with the battered barks,
And they walk together past upholstered walls with the crude remarks.
And they meet at parties through the friends of friends who they never
know.
"Do I pick you up or do I meet you there or shall we let it go?"
"Did you get my message? 'Cause I looked in vain."
"Can we see each other Tuesday if it doesn't rain?"
"Look, I'll call you in the morning or my service will explain."
And another hundred people just got off of the train.
And another hundred people just got off of the train,
And another hundred people just got off of the train,
And another hundred people just got off of the train.
Another hundred people just got off of the train.

Above Song "Another Hundred People" From "Company" (Pamela Myers Lyrics)

I Never Meant To Hurt You (Laura Nyro)

I never meant to hurt you; I'm not that way at all.
Please believe the words of a heart, a heart that seems so small.
And I never meant to hurt you; I guess I lost my place.
Please believe the words of a heart, a heart that hides its face.
Why do I do things I never mean to do?
Why did I speak so carelessly when all that I felt was love for you?
And I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I've got to make you know.
Please believe the words of a heart, a heart that didn't show.
I never meant to hurt you, I only meant to love you it's true.
And when I saw you crying, I cried too.

Sons Of (Jacques Brel)

Sons of the thief, sons of the saint
Who is the child with no complaint
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own
The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears
The cries at night, the nightmare fears
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own...
So long ago: long, long, ago...
But sons of tycoons or sons of the farms
All of the children ran from your arms
Through fields of gold, through fields of ruin
All of the children vanished too soon
In tow'ring waves, in walls of flesh
Among dying birds trembling with death
Sons of tycoons or sons of the farms
All of the children ran from your arms...
So long ago: long, long, ago...
But sons of your sons or sons passing by
Children we lost in lullabies
Sons of true love or sons of regret
All of the sons you cannot forget
Some built the roads, some wrote the poems
Some went to war, some never came home
Sons of your sons or sons passing by
Children we lost in lullabies...
So long ago: long, long, ago
But, sons of the thief, sons of the saint
Who is the child with no complaint
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own
The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears
The cries at night, the nightmare fears
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own...
Like your own, like your own

Musee des Beaux Arts (W. H. Auden)

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

Dust In The Wind (Kansas)

I close
                                    my eyes

Only
                                    for a moment, then the moment's gone

All my dreams

Pass before my eyes, a curiosity

Dust in the wind

All they are is dust in the wind

Same old song

Just a drop of water in an endless sea

All we do

Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind

All we are is dust in the wind, ohh

Now, don't hang on

Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky

It slips away

And all your money won't another minute buy

Dust in the wind

All we are is dust in the wind

   All
                                    we are is dust in the wind

Dust in the wind

   Everything is dust in the wind

Everything is dust in the wind

The wind

Changes (David Bowie)

I still don't know what I was waiting for

                                    And my time was running wild

                                    A million dead-end streets

                                    Every time I thought I'd got it made

                                    It seemed the taste 

                                    was not so sweet

                                    So I turned myself to face me

                                    But I've never caught a glimpse

                                    Of how the others must see the faker

                                    I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

                                    (Turn and face the stranger)

                                    Ch-ch-Changes

                                    Don't want to be a richer man

                                    Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

                                    (Turn and face the stranger)

                                    Ch-ch-Changes

                                    Just gonna have to be a different man

Time may change me

                                    But I can't trace time

I watch the ripples
                                    change their size

                                    But never leave the stream

                                    Of warm impermanence and

                                    So the days float through my eyes

                                    But still the days seem the same

                                    And these children that you spit on

                                    As they try to change their worlds

                                    Are immune to your consultations

                                    They're quite aware 

                                    of what they're going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

                                    (Turn and face the stranger)

                                    Ch-ch-Changes

                                    Don't tell them to grow up and out of it

                                    Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

                                    (Turn and face the stranger)

                                    Ch-ch-Changes

Where's your shame

                                    You've left us up to our necks in it

                                    Time may change me

                                    But you can't trace time

                                    Strange fascination, fascinating me

                                    Changes are taking the pace

                                    I'm going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

                                    (Turn and face the stranger)

                                    Ch-ch-Changes

                                    Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers

                                    Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

                                    (Turn and face the stranger)

                                    Ch-ch-Changes

Pretty soon you're
                                    gonna get

                                    a little older

                                    Time may change me

                                    But I can't trace time

                                    I said that time may change me

                                    But I can't trace time

But the World Goes Round (Barry Manilou)

Sometimes you're happy, sometimes you're sad

                                    But the world goes 'round

                                    Sometimes you lose every nickel you had

                                    But the world goes 'round

                                    

                                    Sometimes your dreams get broken in pieces

                                    But that doesn't alter a thing

                                    Take it from me, there's still gonna be

                                    A summer, a winter, a fall and a spring

                                    

                                    And sometimes a friend starts treating you bad

                                    But the world goes 'round

                                    And sometimes your heart breaks with a deafening sound

                                    

                                    Somebody loses and somebody wins

                                    And one day it's kicks, then it's kicks in the shins

                                    But the planet spins, and the world goes 'round-

                                    But the world goes 'round

                                    But the world goes 'round

                                    

                                    Sometimes your dreams get broken in pieces

                                    But that doesn't matter at all

                                    Take it from me, there's still gonna be

                                    A summer, a winter, a spring and a fall

                                    

                                    And sometimes a friend starts treating you bad

                                    But the world goes 'round

                                    And sometimes your heart breaks with a deafening sound

                                    

                                    Somebody loses and somebody wins

                                    Then one day it's kicks, then it's kicks in the shins

                                    But the planet spins, and the world goes 'round

                                    And 'round and 'round and 'round and 'round

                                    The world goes 'round and 'round and 'round

                                    And 'round!

Dust In The Wind (Kansas)

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