I Still Imagine

In first grade
My President was blown away
I wondered why
In fifth grade
Martin and Robert were filled with lead
I began to understand
In the summer before high school
Morrison was in French soil
But no one was there
I became scared
For John
The warmest 8th of December
In New York City history
I was driving my cab
When Vinny broke the news
From that day till now
At 29
Every time I pass 1 West 72nd street
I feel humanity
Has no hope
But I still imagine

Gates Of Heaven

A warm December night
I passed by The Dakota
Sunroof open barely creeping
An hour before the end
I saw a shadow
Lurked in the darkness
I thought security
Because the article
How many times
I've past before
Those iron gates
Can I cry once more
Since I was five
I've heard the words
Now only vinyl
Is left to hear