LOOK FOR ME
by Ray Rodgers
I still have most of your papers,
the ones with the words that you sang.
I’ve packed them away, in a box, on a shelf,
in the hope they'd be needed some day.
So, when your solitude wavers,
there's a cry in your heart,
and you need something to say,
look for me, in your shadow.
Look for me, at the telling of tales.
Look for me in the cries, of another man’s eyes,
as I sing, and I holler, and I wail.
I tried to learn some of your favorites.
I sing them for friends, and for pay.
I hold them in trust, to preserve, to protect,
to insure that the treasure is saved.
But when you tire of avoiding
your purpose, your heart,
I can give you something to say.
Who are you to ignore other pains?
Who are you to deny other needs?
Who are you to decide
What we show, what we hide, what we kill
and what we must feed.
I still have some of your papers,
the ones that you missed in your rage.
I keep them away from your hands,
from your fires, from your crimes
and the dangers you crave.
But, when your memory wavers,
on the tip of your tongue,
I will give you something to say.
Look for me in your shadow.
Look for me at the end of this tale.
Look for me on the page,
as I thumb through your rage,
as I sing, I holler and wail.
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