Eyes closed fingers poised Flowers strung about Adonis The words below go around the sun The Cat, always deep, always fun A quiet calm in a wild world A friendly voice, a seeker's curse A faraway look and a searing vision The Cat, he sang his simple verse * I think I heard him right, I heard him young The patterns still a desert haze Before the moulds are made and the lines are strung Before grown-up good sense betrays The Cat; and all the stories sung So ask the questions even if You have no answers Tell your wide-eyed tales For the Cat, he never made the sale He loved his dog, he got on a train A stranger in a known land The words they stuck and the tunes remain The Cat, he took another stand But he sure could dance He sure could dance You know the Cat always lands on his feet Watch him move...