Michael Woodhead


Written & Composed by Michael Woodhead
Copyright © 1966, 2019

I fell, careening, down into the fog
I left a message with my synagogue
But when I sturck the soft grass of a garden
I wondered what had happened to my frog

And when I fell deep down into the fog
I wondered where I might find my dog
But, as I opened up my eyes to see a door
I passed the pages of a catalogue

I passed a man, down into the fog
I wrote myself a Sanskit travelogue
But, suddenly, I found myself outside the mist
And put my life into an analogue