Do I Remember? by Kevin Dickerson Lyrics
I look out my window
At the glimmering houses on the hill
From my pretty home
In pretty San Francisco
The morning light sparkles off the glass in the morning mist
I’m a morning person now and I need to remember to eat right and to spend more time on my kisses
I see the seagulls spinning
Through the light in the air
Are they same ones
I wrote about in a different year?
Would they remember?
Would they recognize me?
Does it matter?
Do wе all look the same to them?
And how important is it anyway?
I’m not chasing aftеr fame
Some things you do because you’re driven to do it
It’s in your blood
It’s September
I feel lonely for a change
I don’t feel that much anymore
And I know why
I looked at a picture of red autumn leaves
Near my hometown on a friend’s Instagram feed
A tiny perfect wild flower
In a stunning mountain scene
The fall back home is over soon
Is time a thief?
Or will it be a companion
On a flight back home next year?
I love my brother
So I texted him
He travels a thousand miles
Just like me, on a whim
We have the same voice
We often sound the same
But we share our thoughts
In a different way
"You may see me running down the old dusty road
I will stop and you will smile"
"I say hello and give a wave
And keep going for a while"
Around the bend past an old parked airplane
Tucked away beside a red barn that inspired you to paint
Before you ever met the two sons that you bore
That October that you left us We sat together for days
I took your favorite clothes to the Salvation Army
And a lavender sweater that was folded and buttoned down
That still had the tags on it
That you saved for an occasion that never came
I can’t remember
As well as my brother
I flipped through old black book
And found some of these words
I think I wrote them
In the garden that you loved
We listened on repeat in the living room
To Willie Nelson - “Stardust”
And I there sat for days with the parlor guitar
Rob Czarneski sold to me
You gave me a blue electric guitar
You put a notecard in the case
“This guitar doesn’t play sad songs”
So I’ll use my vihuela from Michoacán and my Spanish guitar tuned to C
I’ll add some words and play guitar
And Beau can add a drum machine
At the glimmering houses on the hill
From my pretty home
In pretty San Francisco
The morning light sparkles off the glass in the morning mist
I’m a morning person now and I need to remember to eat right and to spend more time on my kisses
I see the seagulls spinning
Through the light in the air
Are they same ones
I wrote about in a different year?
Would they remember?
Would they recognize me?
Does it matter?
Do wе all look the same to them?
And how important is it anyway?
I’m not chasing aftеr fame
Some things you do because you’re driven to do it
It’s in your blood
It’s September
I feel lonely for a change
I don’t feel that much anymore
And I know why
I looked at a picture of red autumn leaves
Near my hometown on a friend’s Instagram feed
A tiny perfect wild flower
In a stunning mountain scene
The fall back home is over soon
Is time a thief?
Or will it be a companion
On a flight back home next year?
I love my brother
So I texted him
He travels a thousand miles
Just like me, on a whim
We have the same voice
We often sound the same
But we share our thoughts
In a different way
"You may see me running down the old dusty road
I will stop and you will smile"
"I say hello and give a wave
And keep going for a while"
Around the bend past an old parked airplane
Tucked away beside a red barn that inspired you to paint
Before you ever met the two sons that you bore
That October that you left us We sat together for days
I took your favorite clothes to the Salvation Army
And a lavender sweater that was folded and buttoned down
That still had the tags on it
That you saved for an occasion that never came
I can’t remember
As well as my brother
I flipped through old black book
And found some of these words
I think I wrote them
In the garden that you loved
We listened on repeat in the living room
To Willie Nelson - “Stardust”
And I there sat for days with the parlor guitar
Rob Czarneski sold to me
You gave me a blue electric guitar
You put a notecard in the case
“This guitar doesn’t play sad songs”
So I’ll use my vihuela from Michoacán and my Spanish guitar tuned to C
I’ll add some words and play guitar
And Beau can add a drum machine