Album

In ancient times, the word album meant a tablet Painted white On which was chiseled an edict or decree. At least that is what Google told me When I looked the word up for this song. In later times, album was a book of blank Papers of white on which you'd write a poem Or make a picture of a flame. Now the content was lit, but the concept was The same As it had been all along. An artist put his idea Upon a stone or a page. He'd use a chisel or quill, whatever tool made Sense for the age. He would pass pages out in the square Or lay his stone in a tomb. Then his idea would be there even when he Himself was not in the room. But sometimes critics would murder all the artists, Throw their bodies and their albums in a trough. And the tablets were destroyed, but their ideas had Been deployed, so new artists picked up where the Dead ones had left off. And I find this moving, All the while proving An album's not forever. An album's not forever. It's a dangerous endeavor and art is a fickle Biz. So an album's not forever, But the writing on it is. In 1981, I was born and I looked like a hairy Gnome. I've seen the photo neatly pasted in a tome. Picture albums in the basement back at home. I flip through each with utmost care. I stop in my tracks. Picture of a party in the suburbs in '02. I'm obese and meek, had many dreams, But not a clue. When parties scared me, I went mute or I Withdrew Unless a piano was there. The picture captures the scene. I play Les Mis and I smile As some Goldschlager-drunk teen stares mouth agape, The room just listens for a while. I imagine a future version of me. It's the man who I would become if I Could. Then I think of my current reality and "I Dreamed a Dream" resonates more than it should. But now it's twenty years later. I look nothing like the anxious boy in photographs Whose dreams felt so completely far away. Removed the weight I had to shed, not from My body, but my head. Now life's worth living, but the self-doubt's still At play. And it's confusing, but it validates the Musing That an album's not forever. An album's not forever. Sometimes you gotta sever If you wanna get far. No, an album's not forever, but the feelings in It are. In 2279, I find an album that I made some years Before. Cracked vinyl record, they don't make these anymore. I scan the titles, I feel like a dinosaur Who survived the kaboom. I sing to myself. I remember songs, they take me to an ancient Time. People and memories are conjured up by rhyme. I cry and smile and reflect upon my climb. Great-granddaughter walks into my room. She looks at the record up close, Determines it is quite old. Kids are completely bewildered by the idea of music That you can hold. Computer plays us my song. Kid listens close to each word. Her blue-haired head bobs along. The slang's outdated, but the point is still well Heard. I never knew If the word album referred to the vinyl or The music within. But now as I'm getting to the end, I Get that art will just transcend whatever package it Is currently packaged in. It's not some mystery. It's just what we call history. An album's not forever. An album's not forever. An album's not forever. An album's not forever. An album's not forever. Family is forever. An album's not forever. Passion is forever. An album's not forever. Dreaming is forever. An album's not forever. Memories are forever. An album's not forever. Faith is forever. An album's not forever. Being young is forever. An album's not forever. Lame-ness is forever. An album's not forever. Hating is not forever. A breakup's not forever. Feelings are forever. Failure's not forever. Persistence is forever. Anger's not forever. Weakness is forever. Your struggle's not forever. Art is not forever. But maybe if you're clever and you keep climbing Up that Hill, your album Won't quite last forever, but the music on it Will.