Little Jimmy's gone
Way out of the backstreet
Out of the window
Through the fallin' rain
Right on time
Right on time
That's why Broken Arrow
Waved his finger down the road so dark and narrow
In the evenin'
Just before the Sunday six-bells chime, six-bells chime
And all the dogs are barkin'
Way on down the diamond-studded highway where you wander
And you roam from your retreat and view
Way over on the railroad
Tomorrow all the tippin' trucks will unload
Every scrapbook stuck will glue
And I'll stand beside you
Beside you child
To never never never wonder why at all
No no no no no no no no
To never never wonder why at all
To never never never wonder why it's gotta be
It has to be
Way across the country where the hillside mountain glide
The dynamo of your smile caressed the barefoot virgin child to wander
Past your window with a lantern lit
You held it in the doorway and you cast against the pointed island breeze
Said your time was open, go well on your merry way
Past the brazen footsteps of the silence easy
You breathe in you breathe out you breathe in you breathe out you breath in
you breathe out you breathe in you breathe out
And you're high on your high-flyin' cloud
Wrapped up in your magic shroud as ecstasy surrounds you
This time it's found you
You turn around you turn around you turn around you turn around
And I'm beside you
Beside you
Oh darlin'
To never never wonder why at all
No no no no no
To never never never wonder why at all
To never never never wonder why it's gotta be
It has to be
And I'm beside you
Beside you
Oh child
To never never wonder why at all
I'm beside you
Beside you
Beside you
Beside you
Oh child


Van Morrison,
Beside You



astral weeks turns fifty this year. i remember the first time i listened to it in 1978, when it was just ten years old. i read van morrison in an interview talking about floating up to the ceiling in his room, and i recall floating up to the ceiling in my room when i was nine, and it occurs to me now that was about the time astral weeks came out. thanks to my roommate pete jacobs, aka, dj floss daily (oh where are you today?), who pulled this divine disc from the two foot stack he carried daily to the college radio station, handing it to me with his wild beard, thick lenses and beatific grin, leaving me stoned on the saggy couch in our parlor, buzzing round the room like a blissful bumblebee, soused on sweet nectar, missing class and listening to floss on the radio.