Gentle readers, as you know, i am a selfproclaimed (and acclaimed by my friends) Dead Head. I have a hard time every year at this time – they “days between”. The Dead is responsible for some of the best memories i have of my youth, and their music inspires me, calms me, makes me happy and takes me places in the graymatter even better than the hallucinogens of my youth lol.

The first time the music died for me was when we lost John. You know John – of the 4 Apostles – John, Paul, George and Ringo. I dont want to go there right now, as today, its about Jerry – but that should tell you of my deep love, desire and need for music. It affects every aspect of my life.

I remember where i was when i heard the news. Grumps was terrified that he was going to come home to find the apartment draped in black (his bud’s at work had been teasing him about me and my love of the Dead).

It was close. I had my smudge pot burning and was sitting crosslegged on the floor, listening to terrapin station and crying. He took it well lol.

I had planned on giving you, my dear readers, the lyrics to Ripple/Brokedown Palace as a tribute to a man who effected me profoundly, but i figured every other deadhead would be doing that and i dont follow the crowd. Besides, several friends have instructions that when i finally go Home, the party to follow is to have Ripple/Brokedown Palace played frequently lol. And what a party it will be – and never fear – i WILL be watching, and happy!

So – i went over my list of favorite songs. New Speedway Boogie, Estimated Prophet, Cosmic Charlie, China Cat Sunflower, US Blues. But as much as i love those tunes, Terrapin Station has to be the most fitting tribute i can think of for such a talented and loved man. I miss you so much Jerry and thank you. Thank you for the joy you brought into my life.

I give you now, Terrapin Station

Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelight’s aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things we’ve never seen will seem familiar.

Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.

While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lion’s den.

Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.

The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
That’s how it stands today. You decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.

Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will come back, but he cannot be bought or sold.

Terrapin Station

Inspiration, move me brightly. Light the song with sense and color;
Hold away despair, more than this I will not ask.
Faced with mysteries dark and vast, statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb, to get to Terrapin.

Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright;
The spiral light of Venus, rising first and shining best,
On, from the northwest corner, of a brand new crescent moon,
While crickets and cicadas sing, a rare and different tune,
Terrapin Station.

In the shadow of the moon, Terrapin Station.
And I know we’ll get there soon, Terrapin Station.
I can’t figure out, Terrapin, if it’s the end or beginning, Terrapin,
But the train’s put it’s brakes on, Terrapin,
And the whistle is screaming, TERRAPIN.

Terrapin Station – At the Siding

While you were gone, these faces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden. With nothing to believe in,
The compass always points to Terrapin.

Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
You’re back in Terrapin for good or ill again, for good or ill again.