Radioman
Kids are odd
Curious and bizarre
Being new to this world maybe
Gives them another feel and touch
Things don’t make sense as much
Walls no different than a plain paper
Once it’s done you can’t stop them any further
All the things that we didn’t know
But learned, not very far from along ago
Constant trouble maker, messy
Loads of actions and burdens to carry
Awkward, clumsy, call it lovely
When imagination was all, don’t you recall?
Mom told me stories; once upon a time she was a kid
Hoping I’d learn a lesson or two, she cared
She cut off her hair, rode on her bike
Almost chopped her fingers, twice
She would understand it all; I am her daughter alright
Grandpa on my dad’s side owned a radio. It was old
It was sitting by his bed, he kept it close
He turned it on every night before he fell asleep
What was he listening to? To the news, I think?!
That’s the habit he picked out when he was young
During the war maybe, no different than my time
He listened to it as he drowned in his dreams
Turned it off by morning, when he woke up fresh and clean
That radio was so mystical, difficult to explain
Pale light on the channel bar, all the noises it made
Even the way it worked all throughout the night
Left a lot of questions, couldn’t ask why
Maybe it’s in my genes, I don’t know
Mom had the same kind of vision, she told me so
I imagined a guy living on his own
One crazy fella, he was there alone
Mom thought that wasn’t just him, he couldn’t be the only one
Radio is too petite for a crowd, my thoughts were strong
He’s not just a plain worker, he’s the Radioman
How’s it going to be today, weatherman?
Is it sunny, rainy? Do you feel the haze?
Can you see the stars from beyond the shade?
Sing, dance, act and play
Whatever happened in the world today
He must be smart, in a very different way
Perfect at his job, never a second too late
I broke grandpa’s radio once, I never told anyone
“I am doing a little thinking”, who knows what I hunt
I had tried my ways but he responded to none
“How could he not?” the young mind of mine must’ve thought
Gotten all fired up
Is it something that I am doing or not?
Maybe he’s too small, couldn’t give up
Too tiny to cross the perfect world, it’s a glaring light
Does he really not
Want to find out what?
Mom said she couldn’t find anything after she broke in
I thought I could get him, but there was nothing within
Just a bunch of wires and chips
Dust and tubes and lamps; shapes very strict
He cannot live in this place, it’s just not right
Comes from a better world, he is too bright
Mom had imagined a better story
People living in boxes
Away from glory
For she found nothing fair
They were, I know, positively there
The radio was broken, didn’t work anymore
Nothing sadder than an empty radio, I mourn
Well who knows? Maybe I just scared him away
I know one thing and that’s for sure!