"Closing the Deal"

For years, I had a cassette that Wally sent me in the mid-1980s. It was filled with parts, idea, and song fragments, mostly recorded at his mom’s house on an old out-of-tune piano. (When I first head Durutti Column’s song, “Piece for an Out of Tune Grand Piano,” I thought of wally.) Whenever I needed a creativity boost, I would turn to that tape and find something to work on. “Scarlet,” “Later…In The Morning,” “From My Point of View,” “Half as Bad,” “The Rest of My Life,” and many others were all born from seeds on that tape. As was “Closing the Deal.” I recorded five of these long-distance collaborations on my cassette, “Wally and Brian,” and a few more trickled out in coming years. I had planned to record many more, and also write many more, but that’s about the time A Heart Calls Quietly intervened. I’ve left a lot of projects unfinished over the years. My bad.

Closing the Deal

© 1989 Wally Koekebakker and Brian Hutzell

It took me down

And I don’t know which way to go

It took me down

When I thought I was in control

Closing the deal is the hardest part

Closing the deal--another door slammed on my heart

Thought I was prepared

For the situation

But I got scared

In negotiations

Closing the deal, I lost my shirt

Closing the deal, only one of us got hurt

Closing the deal, you made out like a bandit

Closing the deal, is this how you planned it?

Now I look at you with new respect

Because you kept your cool

And I admire the way you played the jilted maid in the courtroom

Very effective

The judge was so receptive

He put me down

And I don’t know which was is up

You took me down

To your level

Now I’m gonna get rough

Closing the deal, it isn’t over till it’s over

Closing the deal, the final foreclosure

Closing the deal, you got what you wanted

Closing the deal, now you’re living as one of the hunted

"Boxstep Blarg"

Larry Mullica was instrumental in my expanding the “Blarg” concept beyond just one song. There was a little spell when he was encouraging/daring me to continue exploring the concept on Facebook, so I eventually wrote several “Blarg” songs and posted them there.

I met Larry in the band The Spicy Pickles. I was only with the band for a few short months, and not long after I left the group, leader Joe Smith left Des Moines for Denver. There, he reformed the band with an all-new lineup as Joe Smith and The Spicy Pickles. They are doing very well. I’m currently not in any band at all, and my music career is NOT doing very well. It’s fair to say I’ve made some poor choices.

Boxstep Blarg

© 2014 Brian Hutzell

Do the Boxstep Blarg

(Blarggedy blarg)

It isn’t very harg

(Blarggedy blarg)

You can do it in the darg

(Blarggedy blarg)

You can do it in the yarg

(Blarggedy blarg)

You can sing it like a larg

(Blarg blarg)

Jaws did it with a sharg

(Blarg blarg)

Noah did it on the arg

The Boxstep Blarg

Blarg!

"Toe-Tappin' Ted"

Brian Hutzell

"The Coldest Day of the Winter"

I think I like this one now more than I did when I first wrote it. It was originally going to be included on my “Spring 88” cassette, but was cut from the final lineup. Like many of my early attempts at songwriting, these lyrics ha roots in my high school experiences.

Heidi was a girl I dated when I was a senior. We tried unsuccessfully to carry on the relationship after graduation, but she was in Iowa City and I was in first Chicago then Boston. In our case, distance did not make the heart grow fonder, just forgetful. Not long after I moved to Boston, Heidi met the love of her life at the University of Iowa. They are still married, and judging by what little I know of their present life, doing quite well.

The Coldest Day of the Winter

© Brian Hutzell 1987

I remember December the nights that we spent
Cuddled together and warm
It was during a blizzard that our lips first met
Safe inside from the storm
We were young and the fun of romance was in bloom
Following every cliché
And the smell of the fireplace mixed with your perfume
I recall to this day
Several years have passed by since then
We lost touch long ago
Someone said you were married now
You'll make him happy, I know

Maybe there's mistletoe hung from the ceiling
Maybe the Sunday school children are singing
There must be presents in under the Christmas tree
But here it's just gonna be
The coldest day of the winter

Only three Christmas Eves did we spend arm in arm
The happiest couple alive
And the dream, so it seemed, would go on and on
Love would always survive
With a romance begun with the one you first kiss
Comes a love that refuses to die
The problem is this:
They only exist for a very short time
I was in heaven then
Three years of ecstasy
I couldn't believe it when
You said you'd marry me

Maybe there's mistletoe hung from the ceiling
Maybe the Sunday school children are singing
There must be presents in under the Christmas tree
But here it's just gonna be
The coldest day of the winter

We remained on good terms even after the end
Parted with no bitterness
But I never felt lonely at Christmas till then
Like I've been ever since
I still think how it might have been
If our dreams had come true
Christmas Eve would be perfect if I could spend it with you

Maybe there's mistletoe hung from the ceiling
Maybe the Sunday school children are singing
There must be presents in under the Christmas tree
But here it's just gonna be
The coldest day of the winter

"A Chorus Pine"

Malcolm Gladwell, in Outliers, says a person needs to invest 10,000 hours before becoming great at anything. I just read in Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing that he wrote 1000 words every day for ten years before writing a decent story. With a blog, a person (me, for example) can go through the learning process right out in public.

I’m using old song lyrics as starting points for my blog posts. I began writing songs in earnest sometime in high school. A family friend, Steve, who was older and wiser than I, as well as being a fellow musician and songwriter, got me started copywriting my songs. In the beginning, I was certain those songs would be the paving stones for my road to fame and fortune. (Strained metaphor, anyone?)

Nope. But it seems a shame to let them rot in obscurity. By bringing them out of hiding and using them as cornerstones for little blog buildings, I give them new life. Is it a good life? Probably not, since I’m nowhere near my first 10,000 hours as a writer. And as a musician? In my case, 10,000 wasn’t enough!

A Chorus Pine

© 2011 Brian Hutzell

First it’s “yes”

Then it’s “no”

Then it’s “I don’t know”

First it’s “stay”

Then it’s “go”

God, I need a show!

"Adidas"

Brian Hutzell

"Blarggralb"

In her book The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron urges readers to write three pages longhand every morning. She calls them “Morning Pages,” so I do to, although I don’t always get them done in the morning. The idea is to get your mind working and your hand moving, putting words on paper, without any self-censoring or hesitation. I sometimes hear authors (songwriters, artists, etc.) talk about “flow,” that wonderful state of being when work somehow transcends itself and begins to proceed seemingly with no human interference. The author is merely a conduit for the words to speed along on their way to the paper. I’ve rarely experience flow; I’m more like a sputtering spout with poor drainage. But sometimes it’s fun to just dash something off for the sheer silliness of the project. Hence, “Blarggralb,” another follow-up to the legendary “Blarg.”

Blarggralb

© 2014 Brian Hutzell

Barefoot

Haircut

Gamelan

Bubblegum

Frodis

Modulus

Sleestak

Bric-a-brac

Bedbug

Beanbag

Bag Balm

Remain calm

Blarggralb

Blarggralb

Blarggralb

Blarggralb

Blarggralb

Blarggralb

"Small Faces"

Brian Hutzell

"Cars Are The Cattle Of The City"

Care are dehumanizing. As soon as we get into them, we cease to be people and become part of these unfeeling and unthinking machines, whose only purpose is to get from one place to another as quickly as possible and damn any obstacles!

Cars Are The Cattle Of The City

© 2014 Brian Hutzell

If this farm could talk

It would probably say,

“You’re not welcome here

Please go away.

You left me

When I needed you to stay.”

The castles of today

Are built on the bodies of yesterday

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

This thought wakes me up in the night

A museum’s walls are mostly white

From this considerable Fahrenheit

I can smell the burning copyright

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Come with me

And you will see

Why I put whiskey in my tea

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

Cars are the cattle of the city

"Bull"

Brian Hutzell

"Des Moines River BASS-in"

Des Moines River BASS-in

© 2013 Brian Hutzell

Des Moines has been getting a lot of good press these past few years. I’ve always wished Des Moines was better at advertising itself. Well, at least someone is saying nice things about us, even if we too often forget to tell anyone.

Des Moines is #1 Most Underrated American City

"Blarg"

Yes, fans, this is where it all began: the first in the infamous “Blarg” series. Several sequels followed, most of them debuting on Facebook, which is the medium for which they were designed. Short, silly, tailor-made for readers with tiny attention spans. Blarg!

Blarg

A tune of great mirth and wisdom

© 2011 Brian Hutzell

Blarg basket

Blarg biscuit

Blarg bottle

Blarg

Blarg Blarg Blarg

"Walking"

Brian Hutzell

"Backwards Poop"

I’ve kept a journal for many years, so it’s somewhat surprising that I didn’t jump onto the blog bandwagon earlier. I’ve been sluggish in general when it comes to taking advantage of all the internet has to offer. As a musician/writer, I’m sure there is much more I could and should be doing online. But for now, I’ll just provide another poop song. The accompanying drawing was inspired by a panel from the comic strip Cathy.

Backwards Poop

© 2015 Brian Hutzell

Nogard spelled backwards is dragon

Nogaw spelled backwards is wagon

Pool spelled backwards is loop

But backwards poop is still poop

Drazil spelled backwards is lizard

Drazzig spelled backwards is gizzard

Winnie-the-Pooh spelled backwards begins with hoop

But backwards poop is still poop

Poop is like kook or toot or noon

By this point in the tune, you must think I’m a loon

Dust spelled backwards is stud

Doolf spelled backwards is flood

But poop is a name

That is always the same

Forward or backward

Does not change the game

But there’s no need to pout

Or phone the Gestapo

Poop inside out

Is oppo

"Poop"

Brian Hutzell

"Bird Wirds"

These days, what with texting and tweeting and all, I think people’s ability to write and spell is at an all-time low. I see typos in major papers and magazines. I hear newscasters on big stations and even the networks pronounce words incorrectly and use improper grammar. I remember a Fortune 500 company I once worked for widely promoting its “Lanuage Club!” My mom discovered a misspelling on an application for a library card. Now I hear schools are going to stop teaching kids cursive writing. Everyone is in a rush to put a computer and a smartphone into every child’s hand, but no one is bothering to teach those children to think.

Bird Wirds

A tune of great cleverness

© 2011 Brian Hutzell

I am at home

Writing a pome

About the fome

Surrounding Rome

Now it's dun

Wasn't this fun?

Some of my wirds

Are for the birds!

"A Song About Poop"

Believe it or not, I’ve written not just one song about poop, but several songs about poop. I’m not sure what the market demand for poop songs is, but I’m ready to meet that demand!

A Song About Poop

© 2015 Brian Hutzell

  

This is a song about poop

It sorta goes round in a loop

When you step out onto the stoop

You find yourself standing in poop

To continue our song about poop

The second time round in the loop

You bend over intending to scoop

And find yourself holding some poop

To finish our song about poop

The final time round in the loop

Your spirits are starting to droop

Cause it always comes down to poop

It all comes down to poop

Everything comes down to poop

"Barefeet and Bowties"

This is a song about individuality. About granting yourself permission to be eccentric without apology. (And when I write “yourself,” of course I mean “myself.”) There are basic rules and regulations we agree to in order for society to run smoothly, but within the allowable framework, there is considerable leeway.

I choose to be barefoot as often as possible because it feels good. Simple as that. There are books and websites devoted to the health benefits of walking and running barefoot, of “grounding,” and so on. That’s nice, but when I go barefoot I’m not thinking about anything other than the nice feeling of the ground beneath my feet.

The key line in this song is “I won’t apologize for being a good kid.” The media likes to portray the good kid as a geek, a loser, or a mama’s boy. In the Biblical parable of The Prodigal Son, the good kid gets the shaft while the wild child gets the goodies. Any good kid will tell you that in school, it’s the bad boys who get the chicks.

I was a good kid. I’m still a good kid. Maybe that’s not as interesting as the rebel with or without a cause, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of either. Besides, don’t the barefeet and bowties make me at least a little bit interesting?

Barefeet and Bowties

a musical statement of individuality

© 2011 Brian Hutzell

Barefeet and bowties

Living without compromise

And I won’t apologize for being a good kid

I won’t pretend I’m less; I’m not sorry for what I did

Now I’m too old to bloom

Too young to boom

I butter my feet and walk on toast

Isn’t that an unusual boast?

I don’t claim to be the same as most of the other folks

I don’t laugh at their jokes

I’d rather make up my own

Barefeet and bowties

Long hair and blue eyes

A hero in my fantasy, a creature of my fancy

The center of attention in my dreams

Special mention for those scenes

Feeling different, set apart

Jesus and Johnny Appleseed

The Artful Dodger, Boy of Destiny

In barefeet and bowties

Musicalize, evangelize, pilgrimize

I hear the music but refuse to march

I’ll leave my footprints in my own time

Barefeet and bowties

Living without compromise

Sunset to sunrise

And I won’t apologize

"At Sixteen"

Janis Ian wrote “At Seventeen,” so I wrote “At Sixteen.” I often think of the 1980s as my decade, but I’m really more of a child of the 1970s. Most of the references in this song, from the orange Trans-Am to the TV shows mentioned at the end are from the 1970s. This is from a song collection called Rented Ideas that I wrote while living in Chicago a few years ago. I had lived there through much of the 1990s, and mostly loved it. When Hitomi and I moved back there in 2011 though, it was a disaster. Neither of us could find jobs, we hated our apartment, we had rude noisy neighbors, and the whole episode only lasted about 6 months.

I had one solo coffeeshop gig while there, at a place called Let Them Eat Chocolate. (Here’s a video Hitomi made to promote the event. The song is “To See Her Hand,” by Vin & Brian. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1QLji5mu-Bg)It’s a cute little place, but the gig was a dud, with an audience I could count on one hand. I debuted a few songs from Rented Ideas there, the only time to date they’ve been performed live. Too bad, because I really like the songs. Rented Ideas and Cut Pieces are probably my best collections from recent years.

At Sixteen

© 2011 Brian Hutzell

Wouldn’t I look good in this

Thirty years ago?

I flatter myself by thinking I’m the same I’ve always been

But then I look again

And wonder what went wrong

Has it been that long?

But the moment I start singing

Suddenly the pain is less

And if my life is not the best

It’s not that bad

I guess I’ve had

Some pretty good times

I remember her beautiful

Younger than a Spring Angel

Leaning on my piano

Or steaming up the windows on the car in the parking lot

What happened next?

Where did she go?

Until yesterday,

I didn’t know

Gonna buy an orange Trans-Am

With a firebird on the hood

Steve Miller on 8-track tape

I’ll be looking and sounding good

Clutch Cargo’s gonna save me

Jonny Quest will be my friend

Cool McCool will solve the mystery

And the Houndcats ride again

Party hearty, Marty!

Less talk, more rock!

"Covering All The BASS-es"

Covering All The BASS-es

© 2013 Brian Hutzell

I’ve been in an artsy mood lately. Just finished reading The Family Fang by Kevin Wilson, which is about a family of performance artists. (The book even mentions Chris Burden!) Now I’ve moved on to 33 Artists in 3 Acts by Sarah Thornton. Visual art inspires my music and vice-versa, and they both inspire my writing.

As a kid, I loved drawing and doodling, but never pursued art as a career until moving to Cambridge, Massachusetts in 2001. That was where I began making my footprint art, which culminated with a solo art show called “Barefoot in the City” in the Drive-by Gallery at Cambridge Community Television. (Thank you, David Zermeno!) It was a tiny show, true, but it was a start.

These days, I’m experimenting more and more with ways to combine music, visual art, and writing. I also like combining new digital technology with more “primitive” practices. A lot of my writing still begins with pencil on paper. I make frequent us of markers and colored pencil. My footprint art was mostly done with milk paint, which truly is primitive. Then I throw them all together with the use of a camera, scanner, photocopier, and computer; add some element of randomness, and see what comes out.

I guess that covers all the bases.

"Big Dance Hit"

This was written during my Ashley Standing phase. At the time, Madonna was the inspiration for much of my writing, and this song is loosely about her. My bible was Encyclopedia Madonnica by Matthew Rettenmund, and my listening was Madonna’s Bedtime Stories CD. I was working as an office temp at DMB&B in Chicago, and during lunch breaks, I would go for long walks and plan my transformation into a male version of Madonna.

At the same time this was going on in my solo world, my band world was split between two projects: The Bitter Pills and Plastic Mikey. I was also playing second keyboard in the pit band for Theater at the Center (TATC) in Munster, Indiana. Maybe I was spreading myself too thin. In any case, I lost the theater gig, both bands broke up, and Ashley Standing never quite reached Madonna’s heights of success.

Next, I teamed up with Rich Kostner and Kathy Pennington to form In Treble, but our little trio never progressed beyond playing for retirement homes.  After several music career disappointments in a row, I thought a total change was due. Hitomi and I, not yet married but living together, moved to the suburbs. That was a mistake from which I’m still smarting.

Big Dance Hit

© 1994 Brian Hutzell

She was never one to fly with the flock

Spent her life preparing for opportunity’s knock

She knew how to dance; she knew how to sing

When it came, she was ready for anything

She wrote a big dance hit that got played in every bar

Then her videos made her a superstar

Soon the whole world was singing her song

But she was never content to rest for long

You always knew they’d be staring at you

It’s a dream come true

What are you gonna do next?

She’s in the public mind and she likes to see

Just how far she can push the boundary

She knows exactly which buttons to press

With her actions and her dress

You always knew they’d be staring at you

It’s a dream come true

What are you gonna do next?

Dance!

Here comes another big dance hit

Dance!

Here comes another big dance hit

Dance!

Here comes another big dance hit

That’s life!  That’s good!

Dance to the big dance hit

Dance to the big dance hit

You always knew they’d be staring at you

It’s a dream come true

What are you gonna do next?

"Bridge Across The Ocean"

I’ve never read William S. Burroughs; doing so remains on my “to do” list. What little I know of him I have learned through the filter of other people talking about his influence on them and their work. For example, David Bowie likes to apply a “cut-up technique” that he borrowed from Burroughs in writing his song lyrics. I, in turn, borrowed the idea from Bowie for my collection, “Cut Pieces.” (I’m especially proud of that title because it not only references the Burroughs/Bowie cut-up technique, but also Yoko Ono’s performance art happening “Cut Piece.” Yoko gets her share of bad press, but I respect her very much as an artist.)

For this set of songs, I took lots of unused lyric fragments I’d amassed over time in various journals and notebooks (I’m an avid diarist), cut them up and put them back together in new ways. A detail: I did quite a bit of the work while watching art documentaries and drinking Constant Comment tea laced with Red Boot whiskey. I’m actually rather pleased with the way many of the songs turned out, including “Bridge Across The Ocean.” (Another title I lie, alluding as it does to Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Paul Simon is, by nearly all accounts, a very difficult person to deal with, but he’s a brilliant songwriter and musician.)

Bridge Across The Ocean

© 2014 Brian Hutzell

In my dreams

I’m making music to fill stadiums

I wear the mask of a man half my age

I play my role barefoot

Say my lines, make my bows

Nothing between the street and the stage

Where is my faith?

Where is my soul?

Who is my god?

What is my role?

Building a bridge across the ocean

Building a bridge across the ocean

Building a bridge across time

Uneasy in my skin

But comfortable in costume

This act needs refining

From the fringe to the lining

My make-up and persona

Of my own designing

Where is my faith?

Where is my soul?

Who is my god?

What is my role?

Building a bridge across the ocean

Building a bridge across the ocean

Building a bridge across time

You never know when you start a poem

What you will see, or when you’ll get home

Building a bridge across the ocean

Building a bridge across the ocean

Building a bridge across time

"The Ballad of the Picnic of Captain Hook and Captain Cook and the Odd Thing That Happened There"

When I lived in Medford, my roommate, Bob, and I put a hotdog on a hook. We also nailed a piece of bread to the wall, and thumbtacked up a piece of bologna, which remained stuck to the wall even after the thumbtack was removed. We once had a small bonfire on the kitchen table. We staged food fights involving yogurt, baked beans, and molasses, among other things. Lots of friends, relatives, bandmates, and lovers came and went at that house. Great music was made. Terrible music was also made. There were parties and there were fights. It was not a dull place. Life was lived.

For the past ten years, my life has been pretty placid. I’ve poured most of my musical energy into solo piano/vocal gigs at retirement homes, performing The Great American Songbook (Kern, Gershwin, Berlin, Porter, etc.) As a visual artist, my work has been purely in the digital realm. I’ve done a lot of reading, and frequently sported a nice suntan. Life has not so much been lived, but rather barely tolerated. I have existed.

Hitomi and I have been married for 17 years, and they have been fine. We love each other, and rarely quarrel. When we do, it’s over something silly like the color of our olives or the length of our pasta. Excitement and passion have been somewhat lacking lately, though. We would both like to change that, but we’re both a little afraid to try anything too bold. We are timid, and we hold back. I think we need a hotdog on a hook.

The Ballad of the Picnic of Captain Hook and Captain Cook and the Odd Thing That Happened There

© 2015 Brian Hutzell

Captain Hook and Captain Cook

To the campfire a picnic took

Brought the pork

But forgot the fork

So they had hotdog on a hook!

"Cling to Nothing"

When I was still pretty young, my mom gave me a small spiral notebook of staff paper. Now I could write my own music! Imagining myself to be a young Bach, my first composition was, appropriately, “Prelude.” I doodled off a few little more piano pieces, including “Lovely Stroll,” which mom, a longtime church organist, played one Sunday as an offertory—the first public performance of one of my original compositions.

Meanwhile, a family tradition was using outdated, and therefore unsellable, calendar pads from my grandpa’s store. All of us in the family had a good stockpile of these old blank calendar refills, which found new life as stationery, shopping lists, memos, etc. I often used them for writing little poems, some of which later became songs. Most of those projects of my youth are long gone.

The first “real” song I remember writing—words and music—was “Away From You.” It was simple and stupid, but it was a start. In the mid-1908s, I revisited some of my earlier songs and gave them sometimes dramatic rewrites. “Cling To Nothing” is a head-to-toe makeover of “Away From You.”

I remember writing these lyrics in the library at the University of Massachusetts in Boston, where I was foolishly earning my BS in Finance. I actually took many classes at U. Mass that I greatly enjoyed, but my Major courses were dull dull dull. Since leaving college, I have never held a finance job of any sort.

Cling to Nothing

© Brian Hutzell 1987

Young amusements, like building blocks
Make a fortress of a great big box
Let imagination run wild
And it works for awhile
Till some tragic age and you come to that stage
You can't run away to the games that you played

Cling to nothing (if you can)
Cling to nothing (if you must)
Cling to something (better just)
Cling to one thing
Cling to childhood (if you want)
But if you could (give it up)
Cling to nothing (if you can)
Let it go

'Long in high school, camaraderie
Then in college: fraternity
Friendships formed for pleasure and fun
Last until the party's done
But work comes along and points must be won
New cohorts are found in the business crowd

Cling to nothing (if you can't)
Use your buddies (trade 'em in)
Choose your company (keep in mind)
There is one thing
Cling to family (if you must)
Keep it friendly (better just)
Cling to one thing (leave the rest)
That's success

With an empty scrapbook, no one can tag you
If they give you that look, you know you're in
Look at what you've gone through
Now was it worth it?
If you could, would you do the same again?
Or would you be more aware of the chorus of voices you lost
Have you thought of the cost?

Clint to nothing (if you do)
Cling to nothing (should you have)
Clung to something (that you had)
Come to wondering
Cling to nothing (if you can)
Cling to nothing (what you have)
Comes to nothing (cling to that)
If you can

Cling to something - even one thing
Better than nothing
Cling to something
You've been working, getting dirty
Never shirking
Now you're hurting
Was it worth it?
If you nurse it, you can turn it into pearl
If you cling to something

"Class Reunion"

I have a weird relationship with school. I was good at it, but didn’t enjoy it. Especially high school. I’ve often wished that I’d left high school a year early and gone straight to New York or London. As it was, I did the normal school thing just like everybody else, graduated along with everybody else, and went to college like everybody else. Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. I was a trombone performance major. It started out okay, and initially I did very well. Halfway through my freshman year, though, I decided it was not for me.

I made it through that first year, and then transferred to Berklee College of Music in Boston. I didn’t get along with Berklee any better than I’d gotten along with Northwestern, but my life in Boston suddenly took on a whole new glow. I felt like Plato’s caveman seeing light for the first time. I found myself immersed in a whole new world of music, east coast energy, gay culture, and art. I joined a band. I experimented. My creativity flowered and flowed. High school in Des Moines seemed a million years and a billion miles away. “Class Reunion” was the final song on a school-themed cassette I wrote and recorded in December 1985.

Class Reunion

© Brian Hutzell 1985

I went back to high school

Two years after my commencement

Just for a visit.

Everything had changed.

I didn't recognize anyone.

Even the rooms had moved.

I was so confused.

I went back to high school

Five years after my commencement.

Everything was just as I'd left it

Five years ago.

All of my friends were there,

Unchanged by the years.

They asked me where I'd gone.

They said, "You've missed so much."

"Everything has changed."

But I knew they were lying.

I could see very well that I was the only one affected by time.

When I left,

I swore I'd never go back again.