The Backyard Of My Life
Gaslight Cafe
Down at the gaslight cafe
There's a little old poet
Who preaches from worn out
Leather bound black book
The words she spoke
From her cracked country lips
Seemed to hang in the air
She said war is hell freedom ain't free
Life is but a mystery
All the beatniks and city chicks
Applauded at the naked truth
Then they handed round the basket
Through the smokey mist American skeletons
Were brought to life and dusted off
With a nail in the casket
Bartenders with beards and tattoos
Served coffee while Mitchell
Introduced Maxwell as literary clientele
when in walked the mayor of macdougal street
Alan had a howl when the two minds got to meet
The pluming in the basement leaked forever and a day
Amongst the wired and the wonderful
You could speak easy and say what you got to say
Ray was always in and out of jail
Working class young people radiating works
Of non conformity sex, spirituality and drugs
Malcolm the witch green haired lady with a python in a bag
With her head in the clouds takes another drag
New songs were been born all the time
Down at green witch village you could hear the cellar call
Zimmerman tells the baby boomers a hard rain is gonna fall
Before counter culture killed them off
The gaslight cafe was bought and sold
Like a lonely antique worth its weight in gold
Now its only a Souvenir of the sixties
by Keith Hagger