Spin the Tune

Down by the road where the houses stop, a wagon waits with a painted

top. Rust on the wheels, bright cloth on the door,

music carries across the floor. They laughed at him when he passed

the square, said he was strange, said he didn't care.

But when he played the world grew wide, like doors opening from the inside.

Oh, spin the tune and let it stay, every sound can

find its way. If you listen, not just hear, the far off world comes walking

near. He told us tales of roads and rain, of silent towns