The Old You

The Old You

I dreamed I met the old you
Back when your old band played at Kodiac’s
The room was dark, the stage lights were blue
I sat alone in the back

The old you was on fire
At the microphone, the crowd was screaming
The old you was high and wired
That’s how I know I was dreaming

When the band broke for beer I spoke to you
As shy as if we’d never met
I told the old you, ‘I love what you do”
The old you lit a cigarette

And there was nothing more to say
So I backed away, waiting for time to go by
The old you talked up a girl in a beret
With wildness in her eye

Oh imagine waking from that dream
As if I’d slept twenty odd years
Then turned to find you dreaming next to me
Just like you had always been here