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By Jack Joseph Smith
The Song Of Denny Phillips
I was not there when he was born
And I was not there when he died
But I know the song of Denny Phillips
And dates will never tell me when he was born
And dates will never tell me when he did die.
I was little yet,
and walking fairly good
along yards of stone,
when I meet Denny Philips
Ages were in front of us
Together we knew we were large and glad;
our cup rumith over
Mystic preperations
would always make a legand
And there was literally a graveyard at our back
As we were tought how athletics dance on concrete
Aside from a ball in our hands,
we cared about ice when the sun came through the stones.
Our world was sort of like;
the filed down half flipped
movement of all the new moons
Mostly it was fall when we fell from walls,
and knocked ourselves apart over all the grass.