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
The devil knows my name.
He don't knock on my door anymore. He just climbs into the passenger seat every morning and rides shotgun. He don't have to say much. He's learned that silence can be louder than a preacher's sermon and twice as dangerous.
The road ahead is long, dark, and unforgiving. Every mile carries another regret. Every crossroads looks like a bad decision waiting to happen. I've walked that road so long I can't remember if I'm running from something or chasing it.
By the time night rolls around, I'm tired of fighting.
Midnight comes creeping in like an old friend wearing a black hat. That's when I reach for the whiskey. The first swallow burns like a match dropped into a dry field. The second tastes like old memories and broken promises. The third lets me forget that the devil has been following me since sunrise.
For a little while. I've walked through fires that should have killed me and stood in storms that would have drowned a better man. I've slept in the cold with nothing but bad decisions to keep me warm and watched the noon-day sun beat down until my skin felt like old leather.
My daddy used to tell me, "Son, you've got one chance to leave your mark on this world." I did. The trouble is, I can't tell if it's a footprint or a scar.
I've carried my share of sin. Some of it was handed to me, and some of it I chased with both hands. I've buried dreams, lost friends, and watched good people disappear into the darkness. Every mistake carved another line across my soul until I hardly recognize the man staring back at me.
Some nights I swear I can hear the gates of hell creaking open. Other nights I hear my mama praying for me, asking God to save a hard-headed fool who wandered too far from home. I don't know which voice scares me more.
Then the sun goes down. The wind gets still. The moon hangs low over the horizon like a watchful eye, and the devil slides his chair a little closer. He smiles because he knows where I'm headed.
There's an old bottle sitting on the table. An old sinner sitting in the chair. And an old fight that ain't over yet. So I pour another glass and stare into the darkness, wondering which one of us will blink first. Me......or the devil. Because every night ends the same.
It's whiskey at midnight while the devil follows me all day long.
He don't knock on my door anymore. He just climbs into the passenger seat every morning and rides shotgun. He don't have to say much. He's learned that silence can be louder than a preacher's sermon and twice as dangerous.
The road ahead is long, dark, and unforgiving. Every mile carries another regret. Every crossroads looks like a bad decision waiting to happen. I've walked that road so long I can't remember if I'm running from something or chasing it.
By the time night rolls around, I'm tired of fighting.
Midnight comes creeping in like an old friend wearing a black hat. That's when I reach for the whiskey. The first swallow burns like a match dropped into a dry field. The second tastes like old memories and broken promises. The third lets me forget that the devil has been following me since sunrise.
For a little while. I've walked through fires that should have killed me and stood in storms that would have drowned a better man. I've slept in the cold with nothing but bad decisions to keep me warm and watched the noon-day sun beat down until my skin felt like old leather.
My daddy used to tell me, "Son, you've got one chance to leave your mark on this world." I did. The trouble is, I can't tell if it's a footprint or a scar.
I've carried my share of sin. Some of it was handed to me, and some of it I chased with both hands. I've buried dreams, lost friends, and watched good people disappear into the darkness. Every mistake carved another line across my soul until I hardly recognize the man staring back at me.
Some nights I swear I can hear the gates of hell creaking open. Other nights I hear my mama praying for me, asking God to save a hard-headed fool who wandered too far from home. I don't know which voice scares me more.
Then the sun goes down. The wind gets still. The moon hangs low over the horizon like a watchful eye, and the devil slides his chair a little closer. He smiles because he knows where I'm headed.
There's an old bottle sitting on the table. An old sinner sitting in the chair. And an old fight that ain't over yet. So I pour another glass and stare into the darkness, wondering which one of us will blink first. Me......or the devil. Because every night ends the same.
It's whiskey at midnight while the devil follows me all day long.
