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”