I spent a lot of
time on the lyrics for “Colored Pail,” and when I finished them, I was very
proud. The song came right in the middle of my very productive Medford period,
that golden age of creativity and experimentation in all aspects of life. I’ve
been trying to recapture that time ever since, but perhaps that’s the wrong
tactic to use. I can’t go back to the mid-1980s, nor can I return to my early
20s. Instead of trying to recreate a golden period, I should try to build a brand
new one. Everything about my life is different now from the way it was 30 years
ago, so it stands to reason that the things that made 1985 great won’t be the
same things that can make 2015 great. I cling to the past. Move on!
Colored Pail
© Brian Hutzell
1986
Hot sand burns,
sifting over my feet
Filters through
my fingers, feel the heat
Time to go, save
the sand
Take it home if
you can
But I'll never
fit the whales in my little colored pail
I got a colored
pail as a gift on my birthday
It was sent by
mail and was bent when it came
It's gone through
the years with me better or worse
And the jewels it
carried were sometimes dirt
Sometimes coal,
sometimes gold
Fishbowl
building, the feed trickles down
Gazing crowds,
grazing cows, gaping frowns
What do memories
weigh with this task on the tray
It's getting hard
to tip the scales toward my little colored pail
I got a colored
pail as a gift on my birthday
It was sent by
mail and was bent when it came
It's gone through
the years with me better or worse
And the jewels it
carried were sometimes dirt
Sometimes coal,
sometimes gold
Dreaming asleep,
scheming awake
Hoping to keep,
groping to take
Wanting to win,
hunting the buck
Wishing again,
fishing - no luck
Snap! The line's
tangled, tears in the net
Let the prey get
away, how's the family fed?
Let the crumbs in
my head make the dough for the bread
But the crumbs
are getting stale in my little colored pail
I got a colored
pail as a gift on my birthday
It was sent by
mail and was bent when it came
It's gone through
the years with me better or worse
And the jewels it
carried were sometimes dirt
Sometimes coal,
sometimes gold
Dreaming asleep,
hoping to keep
Wanting to win
Try to fit the
whales in my little colored pail
I got a colored pail
as a gift on my birthday
It was sent by
mail and was bent when it came
It's gone through
the years with me better or worse
And the jewels it
carried were sometimes dirt
Sometimes coal,
sometimes gold
Sometimes coal,
sometimes gold
