Michael Caufield

Lyrics

Beneath


It used to be easy it used to be fun


Chasing a ball beneath the golden sun


Those were the days of the innocent real


Before the world could structure the way you feel


Following rules is a snap -- it’s easy to trace


Your way across the map when forced to race


Along the giddyup trail made dizzy by all those swishing tails


So what if your saddle slips off – workhorses rarely get lost


Ride bareback until you can see the carrot again


You learn your ABC’s and you mind your P’s and Q’s


But by the time you see how money rules you can only feel a fool


I didn’t say this but I might’ve said that


What difference does it make if there’s no more white and black


Crooners need not apply


The battle has already started – we need archers we need axemen


We need someone who could take a sword and if not the dragon’s at least take off a few of the liar’s heads


So what if it’s not Camelot – a farm is a grand enough spot


To work until sunset and drink down a pint of cold beer


Trapped like a slave whipped by men with small minds


Academia is not the place for anyone in search of the divine


I know you only stayed because there was no place to go


For a man who believed in Emerson and Thoreau


"Pantheism is as pantheism does," a spent idol once remarked


After hearing an alert waitress ask,


"Would you like some jam to make those buckwheat pancakes taste less bland?"


Everything always works out regardless of all man-made doubt


Whatever the outcome


Everything always works out


It has to . . .