"All I ever wanted to be was Grand Poobah..." Howard Cunningham
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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #39
Peak in subgenre #15
Author
Robert George
Uploaded
April 15, 2025
Track Files
MP3
MP3 10.6 MB • 320 kbps • 4:39
Lossless
WAV 51.0 MB
Lyrics
I absolutely don't recommend smoking weed, but it was part of the era.
Golden Gate 2012 Robert George BMI
Evry year I make this lonely pilgrimage
And I drive the long Pacific coast
Then I stand upon that regal Frisco Bridge
As if its the haunt of one specific ghost
On the way I think of how my uncle died
With a shot of whiskey in his cocoa
How his soul was gathered to the endless night
Listning to an old LP of Poco
I keep hazy photos of him on the dash
With his red bandanna and his Fairlane
And they whisper songs of Crosby, Stills and Nash
The Grateful Dead, Santana and the Airplane
And the healing scent of herb was in the breeze
Like a midnight breath of mystic remedy
And a weary, gypsy bird was in the trees
With a song hed smuggled from Yosemite
Where the salty winds and waves are talkative
And their bawdy tales are begging to be heard
He knew all their stories were evocative
Cos the full moons seemed to hang on evry word
Maybe he was just a crazy wanderer
Like the men portrayed in Shane and High Noon
O and am I just a crazy ponderer
Who thinks eight tracks had more soul than iTunes
Now I drive along a raging, violent sea
While the distant lightning forks the sleeping mist
Though our flesh and bones are aging silently
Years and death are things that youthful songs resist
So Ill play the sixties songs that made the man
And believe in how their spirit captured him
And how time becomes a castle made of sand
Till our dreams become the princess trapped within
And though he ate yogurt, sprouts and Newmans Own
Loved the freak flag and the Bells of Rhymney
He still wound up one more pile of human bones
Puffing through an undertakers chimney
Yet I like to think he had the final laugh
And the wind is now his place of lodging
Cos his peaceful song was summoned by a draft None among us has a chance of dodging
Evry year I make this lonely pilgrimage
And I drive the long Pacific coast
Then I walk along the that regal Frisco Bridge
Like its the haunt of one specific ghost
