TAPESTRY
Carole King 


My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue; 
an everlasting vision of the ever-changing view. 
A wonderous, woven magic in bits of blue and gold 
a tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold. 

Once amid the soft, silver sadness in the sky 
there came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by. 
He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide; 
and a coat of many colors, yellow-green on either side. 

He moved with some uncertainty as if he didn't know; 
just what he was there for, or where he ought to go. 
Once he reached for something, golden hanging from a tree 
and his hand came down empty.... 

Soon within my tapestry along the rugged road; 
he sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad. 
It seemed that he had fallen into someone's wicked spell; 
and I wept to see him suffer, though I didn't know him well. 
As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared 
a figure gray and ghostly beneath the flowing beard 
in times of deepest darkness I've seen him dressed in black; 
now my tapestry's unraveling, he's come to take me back. 
He's come to take me back.