Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
Every town has them. The ones who believe they've figured life out before life has even had a chance to teach them a lesson. They build an image piece by piece, hoping the world mistakes it for wisdom. A tattoo here, another one there. A cigarette hanging from the corner of their mouth. A cup of hot coffee in their hand, watching the steam rise as though it carries the weight of the world.
They call it toughness. Truth be told, most of it is nothing more than costume jewelry for the soul. They want people to think they've been through battles no one else could survive. They want the world to believe they've carried burdens too heavy for ordinary folks. They practice the look, the stare, the shrug of the shoulders that says, "I've seen it all." But have they?
Across town, a pastor stands behind a worn wooden pulpit. His message isn't about tattoos or cigarettes or coffee. It isn't even about appearances. It's about hope, forgiveness, and the simple truth that no one is beyond saving. His words float through the room like seeds looking for good ground. Some listen. Others don't.
The ones who believe they already know everything are the hardest to reach. Why listen when you've already convinced yourself you have all the answers? Why change when you've spent a lifetime building an image that everyone else is supposed to admire?
So they walk away. Another cigarette. Another cup of coffee. Another tattoo. Another day pretending to carry a cross they never picked up.
The pastor keeps preaching because that's what pastors do. He knows that some hearts open slowly and some never open at all. He knows that pride can be a heavier burden than any fool could ever understand that he has lost his way.
The sun rises. The sun sets. Another day comes and goes. And there they stand, convinced they know the way, when in reality they've barely begun the journey. Time has a funny way of exposing the truth. The smoke disappears. The coffee grows cold. The colors in the tattoos begin to fade. The pastor's words linger longer than anyone expected. And in the end, when all the pretending is over and all the make-believe toughness has run its course, life has a way of reducing everything to what it always was.
Just... Cigarettes, Coffee, Tattoos, Pastors and Fools.
They call it toughness. Truth be told, most of it is nothing more than costume jewelry for the soul. They want people to think they've been through battles no one else could survive. They want the world to believe they've carried burdens too heavy for ordinary folks. They practice the look, the stare, the shrug of the shoulders that says, "I've seen it all." But have they?
Across town, a pastor stands behind a worn wooden pulpit. His message isn't about tattoos or cigarettes or coffee. It isn't even about appearances. It's about hope, forgiveness, and the simple truth that no one is beyond saving. His words float through the room like seeds looking for good ground. Some listen. Others don't.
The ones who believe they already know everything are the hardest to reach. Why listen when you've already convinced yourself you have all the answers? Why change when you've spent a lifetime building an image that everyone else is supposed to admire?
So they walk away. Another cigarette. Another cup of coffee. Another tattoo. Another day pretending to carry a cross they never picked up.
The pastor keeps preaching because that's what pastors do. He knows that some hearts open slowly and some never open at all. He knows that pride can be a heavier burden than any fool could ever understand that he has lost his way.
The sun rises. The sun sets. Another day comes and goes. And there they stand, convinced they know the way, when in reality they've barely begun the journey. Time has a funny way of exposing the truth. The smoke disappears. The coffee grows cold. The colors in the tattoos begin to fade. The pastor's words linger longer than anyone expected. And in the end, when all the pretending is over and all the make-believe toughness has run its course, life has a way of reducing everything to what it always was.
Just... Cigarettes, Coffee, Tattoos, Pastors and Fools.
