Dust in the Wind

I feel blessed to be having this experience of busking in Philadelphia.  Each day is a painting, a tapestry, of the human condition, and I feel connected, playing the sound track.  The Greek chorus.  All kinds of people walk by me every day, rich, poor, all going somewhere, some hurrying more than others.  Some standing still, pausing.  I see people laughing, crying, talking, arguing, brooding, chatting on cell phones, and some talking to themselves.  I think of how fragile we all are.  We're all bumping along, getting through life the best we can.
When I look at the songs I sing, the body of work as a whole reflect the different facets of our human existence.  I add songs periodically which speak to me, shed light on another facet.  Some talk of the poignancy of life.  Some are very Zen and question the material life we lead.  Here's one Kansas made famous....

Dust In The Wind
I close my eyes,
only for a moment and the moment's gone.
All my dreams,
pass before my eyes, a curiosity.
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song,
just a drop of water in an endless sea,
All we do,
crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.
Don't hang on,
nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.
It slips away,
and all your money won't another minute buy.
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.
Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.


We may be just drops of water, but we are in an endless sea.....