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Journey Before Time

Let’s Pretend It Never Happened

Lyrics and Music by Bobby Angel, his pre-drainage Everglades Song, Spring 2021

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams The Lake is bursting at its seams Going south in a skiff with Hugh Willoughby Through a wall of sawgrass thick as can be Until at the edge finally we break free Into a maze of braids an unending freshwater sea On my face the good feel of a sunny breeze And in the distance tiny islands of trees Below pumping up a subterranean freshet Teeming with fish, alligators and flocks of egrets And then we get swept west into the Big Cypress Towering trees all around like looking up at a cliff An ivorybilled woodpecker landing on a branch Underneath the shaded grove with many orchids And finally to the mangroves where saltwater I sniff When around turns Hugh to suddenly interrupt To say nothing is real it’s time to wake up

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams A wanted poster on the wall offering a big reward Wanted dead or alive, the new outlaw An scourge to paradise, it’s only flaw And so began the hunt for water Disston with his dredge he blew up the falls And tore into her marsh with his iron claws To drain it away at any cost With no concern or care for what might be lost Or anything other than greed might be served Turn the Garden of Eden into a trucking farm Nature would succumb and soon enough learn Draining it so hard it all started to burn The flame and the smoke filling sky at every turn Until we came to a ghostly face filling the air It was Disston saying welcome to my nightmare

Listen to the song and interview (after song)

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams First came the waves and then came the storm Awakening the Lake and causing it to roar Sending its water over the levee in a big waterfall Flooding many people across the southern shore A nation aimed at settling the score By defeating water and declaring war And so they sent in the the Army Corp To box it in this time for sure Control the water with concrete doors So when it rains it no longer pours Pave over the coast with more and more Until there’s nothing left to do just stay indoors Nature left hanging on life support As tourists click their drinks in a big beach resort That’s when I close my eyes and I hear a shout It’s Hugh on his skiff telling me its time to go back out

Let’s pretend it never happened x3 We’ll go there in our dreams First thing we did was rip out the gates And let the water flow back to its natural state And slowly start to fill back the lake And overflow back into glades Forming new channels in the shape of a maze With all the animals returning as if to give praise After losing every battle turning a new page Welcoming in a new geologic age The clouds formed up in the sky Sending new water down from up high New springs forming down below So many new places for the water to go How did we even do it, we didn’t know Other than it was an incredible show We sat and watched content as could be Nature completely restored a sanctuary When something startled me and I opened my eyes A dim light in the distance a new sunrise

Pretend It Never Happened is the opening song (on Side A) of Bobby Angel’s album Listen to Big Cypress Bound (2022)

Lyrics to Stuck

Stuck Inside of Oasis

A farewell song to Rudi Heinrich Words and music by Bobby Angel Live at the The Brass Tap July 27, 2019

Gators are splashing wildly down the end of the boardwalk I try to see what the problem is but a tourist stops me to talk. And the visitors politely ask me questions that can’t seem to wait, like ā€œDo you keep those alligators in a cage?ā€ to which I answer ā€œNo ma’am it’s me that can’t escapeā€

Oh, Joe Lord, can this really be the end to be stuck inside of Oasis with the cypress blues again

Well Campfire Charlie he’s up at the Alley, not too far from the Florida Trail speaking to wildcat geologist about some old abandoned wells.ā€œ Just two miles downā€ says the wildcatter, ā€œIs the age when the dinosaurs playedā€ to which Charlie responds, ā€œyes I fondly remember those days.ā€

Oh Guy Bradley can this really be the end, to be stuck inside of an old gas station with the cypress blues again

Airboaters glide south to Coconuts, buggies north to Calstones, while I’m stuck behind the front desk answering a landline phone. So me I sit so patiently, opening the cash register for change. The people are all from so many different places, but my job’s always the same

Oh, Sig Walker, can this really be the end to be stuck inside a glass cube with stuffed panther and the cypress blues again.

ā€œNobody owns the water man,ā€ I heard that said before, if they gave me the keys to the kingdom I’d open up the water doors. And so I posted a message on the old social media line that went viral with a thousand nasty comments, maybe I’ll just post a photo of a bird the next time

Oh shit, I somehow did it again, all the while being stuck inside of the VC with the cypress blues again.

The skunk ape gave me two tips for living off the land: One was to lather up with Ochopee mosquitoes the other was to double fist water moccasins in both hands. And like a fool they bit me and it jumbled up my mind.Ā  Now the decades are all out of order which as a historian actually suites me fine

Oh, Joe Browder, can this really be the end, to be stuck inside an old hangar with the cypress blues again

The senator came down here to let everyone to kiss his ring and posing for a few group photo after a speech that promises everything. After all the confetti had fallen, and wouldn’t it be Rudi’s fate, to have been caught without a flat hat and not even get a piece of cake

Oh Art Marshall is this really the end, to be stuck around a bunch of dollar knickknacks with the cypress blues again

All the books upstairs in the Library, I’ve read them all twice or more, once for the information and the other times ā€˜cause I was bored. Yes, Reynold’s Sawmill Mill may look like ruins and Monroe Station burned the floor, but me I can see them so clearly just like in the good old days of yore

Oh Cap’n Turner can this really be the end to be stuck at the air conditioning with the cypress blues again

Five years passes in Orlando so Rudi returns to say hello.Ā  The cypress trees look the same, but most of the faces he no longer knows. And so he cried a tear that soaked deep into the peat and turned into sheet flow of understanding that the march of time is a one way street

Oh mama, no, it wasn’t the end and I miss being stuck Oasis, those were some of the best days I ever had!

Listen to the Stuck Inside of Oasis

Wetland sharks

Jaws of the Glades

A farewell Song to Laurie Humphrey

Words and music by Bobby Angel

February 26, 2021

She used to work in the Everglades and always knew how to play the game whenever they asked and wanted to know she told them the Everglades were the only show but then one time she finally got fed up when she scooped the water up in cup to find it filled with all sorts of nasty stuff

That’s when she ran off and escaped to the Big Cypress Swamp a place that has everything you could ever want and forever more and ever since on the west side of a hill they call the L28 fence and now she feels free whenever a visitor has an inquiry she says it’s easy to see it’s shadier under the trees

If you like concrete and gates then the Everglades is your place 0r bureaucratic malaise again I recommend the Everglades or sawgrass that bites like a shark I point you in the direction of Everglades Park

Inside a dome that’s the place I call home water up to my knees and no entrance fees gators a grumbling and storm clouds a thundering and mosquitoes singing in my ears I promise really there’s nothing to fear

The Everglades was just a phase I really don’t get the whole craze I’d rather be the cypress maze away from the east coast smokey haze to catch the twilights last shadowy rays and fall to my knees to give them prays and then stare up into the pitch black night just me and the twinkling pinpricks of light

Its where you end not where you start that floods the love into your heart it’s where you end not where you start which is why the Big Cypress will always beat on in my heart

Gunpowder and reservoir

Pretty Boy and the Gunpowder

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

January 2, 2022

Your gunpowder didn’t blow And so went on your way Past the trail where the train once ran Beside a bridge that’s washed away Weren’t you the next big thing As guaranteed as anything And now look at you today Ruins overrun

Such a pretty boy you were Born in Jerusalem Spinning water at your wheel Into rifles for the coming war Outfitting old Henry’s fort Farther down the Locust Point Where cannons kept the ships at bay And sent them in retreat

High above the eagles soared As bulldozers built the wall For pretty boy to fill its banks To divert it all to city streets An edict of the ruling crown And so you laid your rifle down Surrender your powder To the dreams of gasoline

Over time you silted in And so your dreams slipped away A blessing now looking back How so little things ever changed Farther up he won it all Only somehow to lose Pretty Boy only flows these days To highways of concrete

Gunpowder long since relapsed To a cascade of small rapids Other than logs holding back Waters where beavers swim at night Protected as a county park You can still go there today And listen to a bluegrass play Or walk the covered bridge

Life is good on the old rail trail Long after they all moved away It’s waters never slowed On their steady fall into the bay Pretty boy doesn’t have much to say He just keeps it all inside From a flooded Paper Mill To the Mason Dixon Line

A medley to remember

Her and There

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Maybe you saw me maybe you didn’t the best part of life is always hidden you and me we’ll find that treasure take it to a higher level you and me we’ll never settle check it out check it out check it out we’ll be flying we’ll be rising over top of the horizon past the pain and all the dying finally we are arriving we are there we are there yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

I met her at the picnic table a cup of coffee in her hand she told me we couldn’t stay there so we went walking in the sand surf splashing at our ankles eventually we made the pier where she turned and told me one more step and we are there

Above the clouds passing by thirty five thousand feet up in the sky you know I think about you all of the time you’re always there up in my mind

Going down to the ground I wonder if you’re still around I wonder I wonder I wonder I’m a wanderer I am a plunderer I am a wrangler I am a gambler I am a rambler I am a galloper I am a guzzler I am a hustler I am a messenger and I will not stop until I find her

Has anybody been there lately has anybody been there lately has anybody been there lately and if so could you please tell me where she might me can anybody tell me

Maybe you saw me maybe you didn’t the best part of life is always hidden you and me we’ll find that treasure take it to a higher level you and me we’ll never settle check it out check it out check it out we’ll be flying we’ll be rising over top of the horizon past the pain and all the dying finally we are arriving we are there we are there yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Not getting there

Midstream

Words and music by Bobby Angel

Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be. Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be.

Don’t want to go to the other bank I’ve been there before so no thanks and I don’t want to return to the other shore there ain’t nothing for me there anymore. Midstream midstream there’ ain’t nothing for me there anymore. Midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream midstream.

Don’t care if I get washed away sounds better than having to stay and maybe it’s not to late to turn back the clock and regain my fate Midstream midstream there’ ain’t nothing for me there anymore. Midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream midstream.

Getting there isn’t what counts and it’s never the end when the ship goes down or maybe it is you never know it’s called learning to go with the flow. Midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream it’s where I want to be. Midstream midstream midstream midstream.

Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be. Midstream midstream that’s where I’ll always be.

Feline adventure

Ballad of a Florida Panther

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

Step right up I got a story to tell. It takes place in Old Florida near a wishing well. The names and places may be re-arranged. But what went down is more or less the same. It was midnight in Salt Lake when she got the fateful call about a missing footprint of a Texas Panther paw. It sounded so peculiar, she packed her bags and sent her money in for a Florida Cougar license tag. Turns out Tamiami’s too fast for our liking, gonna hafta ban all the cars and keep it to ten-speed biking, or use lots of ripple strips, you know they work just fine. Or how about painting a panther on a couple of signs.

It isn’t simple, there’s no easy plan.

First a hundred panthers, and how her.

She took The Plan deep into the woods. Panther got one look, he said – ā€œThis ain’t no good. We need a bridge that spans from here to ā€œthere, Route the traffic down around in boats, or fly it up in the air.” Whatever happened to living on the land? That got lost to development, it’s approved in The Plan. “You mean to tell me, there’s no place left to go? First they stuck me in the mud, next they’ll send us to the snow.ā€ ā€œOh, you mean the glaciers? Yeah, they’re moving in, too. What once was dry land is seeping in my shoe.ā€ ā€œHurry up and mix, we’ve gotta pour the plaster before that rain cloud fills the print up any faster!ā€

Florida is a force sort of like fate

“Would you like some raw hog head?” ā€œNo thank you I just ate.ā€

Bulldozers were scraping out on the ledge. They escaped inside a high rise and stood out on the ledge. Out with the pigeons, she pulled out some flossing, then rappelled their way down to a new wildlife crossing. She ran with her feet, he with his paws. They lived on the edge of society breaking all its laws. But after a while, the read the writing on the wall and climbed through a hole in the barbed wire because the fence was too tall. Senator Abstentia gave us half an ear as the crowd of screaming fans burst into tears. A tele-evangelist called it a ā€œquestion of faith,ā€ that we’ll get the ā€œworld and more,ā€ if only we wait.

ā€œDon’t they know, we’re a dying breed?

We need fifteen square miles just to roam free.ā€

They finally were rescued in a big cage in the zoo and fed lots of horse de oeuvres – and on Tuesday Cordon Blue. Then one night the wind blew something through their minds and they hopped the fence and put twenty miles behind. Where were they going? They didn’t even know. Panther cut the trail and she just went with the flow. Until all in an instant, it showed up in a flash, Panther dove into a water hole with a wad full of cash. They boarded a plane wearing fake mustaches. Border Patrol checked his ID while she did her eyelashes. They lived on an island that they called home, behind a waterfall that shined like sports car chrome. He poured a drink in the now dying sun as she stirred the straw and sipped: ā€œIt was the perfect amount of rum.ā€ The fish were plentiful and the mist was good for her skin. All in all, it was a real win-win.

Farewell Old Florida, you’re a distant dream

Sometimes I lie awake at and wonder what it all means.