Yesterday the morning came, a smile upon my face—
Girl friend’s doorstep, with Yes tickets, Chris Squire’s driving bass.
She just freed from a grounding, begged her father’s grace.
But our plans we had to alter, being forced to race.
His limits imposed on us just told us where we were.
Wary, leery, restless watchdog, showed us where we were.
Lost in temper, rankling, fluster, our minds very far,
Lost in losing circumstances, that’s just where we were.
Yesterday the ev’ning came, a frown upon my face—
Prog Rock music, sampled glory, too short to gain pace,
In a Plymouth car to suburbs, leaving concert place,
If then someone asked my feelings, mine was just,
If then someone saw my visage, mine was just…
Mine was just red face,
Mine was just red face,
Mine was just red face.
Dad defying, firmly determined to shatter a norm,
Sliding on up to straddle, her boldness, her defiance in gear.
Yesterday the late night came, big grin upon this face—
The back alley, rousing glory, hot lover’s, hot lover’s embrace,
On a rocket ship to heaven, lifting into space!
If matched to Tom Jones’s ventures, mine was no…
Mine was no disgrace,
Mine was no disgrace,
Mine was no disgrace.
Dénouement
Upon her return, her dad was fast asleep;
Still due to her moods, our bond did not keep.
So as a result, I hold slight regret
That I could not hear more of Yes’s set.
© 2024, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved. (1972)
🙂