"Colored Pail"

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