Sad day man, real sad day. The mystic, the poet, the chieftain – Robert Hunter has passed on to the higher plane.

Your ol’ friend Bob first met the Hunter Man way back in the Bay, had to be 69. Ya know those days all blend together but man I’ll never forget meeting Robert. He was sitting on a park bench in Golden Gate, head buried in his notebook.

I says, “Hey man I know you. I seen you with them Warlock boys, them Grateful Dead cats.”

Hunter just sorta nods his head so I continue. You know Crusty Bob, I could talk to a brick wall if I had something to say. And that day I had something to say.

“Those Boys, they play real nice ya dig. I’m way into that cosmic thing they do. You play with them?”

“Sorta,” he says. “I write the words, they write the music.”

“Words. I can dig that man. Right on.”

“I’m working on something right now,” he says. “You wanna hear some?”

Do I wanna hear some? “Does a pig eat shit?” I say. “Hell yeah I wanna hear some of your words.”

Robert Hunter, the man himself, starts to read and this is what he says:

“Look out of any window

Any morning, any evening, any day

Maybe the sun is shining

Birds are winging or

Rain is falling from a heavy sky,

What do you want me to do,

To do for you to see you through?

For this is all a dream we dreamed

One afternoon long ago

Walk out of any doorway

Feel your way, feel your way

Like the day before

Maybe you’ll find direction

Around some corner

Where it’s been waiting to meet you,

What do you want me to do,

To watch for you while you’re sleeping?

Well please don’t be surprised

When you find me dreaming too

Look into any eyes

You find by you, you can see

Clear through to another day

Maybe been seen before

Through other eyes on other days

While going home,

What do you want me to do,

To do for you to see you through?

It’s all a dream we dreamed

One afternoon long ago”