Purple Luck

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Jacques Skutt

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Sunny day, beer caps popping, smoke billowing all 'round
My 1967 Comet, painted purple, pounded the ground
On our way for another gig we were trippin' to tunes
A White Room, a Stairway made sense to us that noon
Crazy Cathy sat behind me, she was everybody's best friend
Dear to no one exactly, but it was fun to pretend
She began to nibble and peck on the back of my neck
As I reached and picked out a new tape for the deck
Then she reached out over the seat,
And with her hands covered my eyes
Blindness was complete
I heard music and cries
I knew for sure that the time had come for all of us to die
I guess it seemed alright, no big deal we were all really high
A curve in the road
The purple Comet went straight
Through a ditch we mowed
Crashed through a gate
We spun round and round
In the perfect green grass
Of a cemetery's ground
Thru the tombstones we passed
There are times when luck cannot account for
When reason demands that you should enter death's door
No one was injured, a neighbor saw
Came over to help, Cathy's father-in-law
That purple, Comet, was soon back on track
To our gig at a bar down in Pontiac
Sail, through time, through twists and turns
Good or bad or you don't even do exist
Sail, through time, through twists and turns,
Good or bad or you don't even do exist
Sail, through time, through twists and turns,
Good or bad or you don't even do exist
Sail, through time, through twists and turns,
Good or bad or you don't even do exist

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