Nothing like Billy singing his social civic minded howl;
a time when family and early morning grandma duties
lay me on the sofa, waiting for the dawn
drifting through silent hours, savoring the velvet cushions,
...
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Oh, this is a delicious poem...the contrast of your warmth on the velvet pillows, the gentleness of your room and Mr. Piano Man...and that bliss outside, and yet...and yet...that death that cannot be denied. Just a perfect Blues Number for autumn! !