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We Needed Him (for Townes Van Zandt)

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The poet cast a long shadow

as he took the stage.

A wraith worn from bowing down a thousand times

strumming that old Gibson

cracked and blonde

he sang some lines:

"Livin's mostly wastin' time

and I waste my share of mine..."

 

Names, faces and crowds just got bigger

for others, but such wasn't the case for

the truest troubadour of the Lone Star state.

He just did what he had to do,

coming, going as he pleased; living like a rake,

giving his all

for the sake of the song.

 

The gentle cowboy,

with words that ring as true today

as they did when,

under an eastern harvest's moon,

he was swept up in the wind.

We need him now,

just like we needed him then.

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