Prose
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

 

 


You Gotta Let Go

by Owen

Here's an old song-poem that I wrote 40 years ago when
I was a young man. It makes more sense to me now then
it did when I wrote it.

O down in the South Seas,
I've heard sailors say,
The natives catch monkeys,
A sure-fire way.
They hollow a coconut,
Fill it with fruit,
Then tie the old coconut,
To a big root.

The monkey comes swingin'
He smells the banan,
He reaches inside
And he grasps with his hand.
But his fist is too big now,
To pull through the hole,
He'll soon lose his freedom,
and probably his soul.

You gotta let go,
You gotta let go,
It's greed that has trapped you
And brought you so low.
You gotta let go,
You gotta let go,
Open your hand and let go!

Now goals are like ceilings,
There's always one more.
As soon as you gain them,
They turn to a floor.
You spend your life chasin'
Those things on your list,
You're just like the monkey,
Who's trapped by his fist.

You gotta let go,
You gotta let go,
It's greed that has trapped you
And caused all your woe.
You gotta let go,
You gotta let go.
Open your hand and let go!

The trap can be habits,
Like chasin' the girls,
The trap can be riches,
Like rubies and pearls.
The trap can be high times,
Like cocaine or booze,
The trap can be any
Addiction you choose.

You gotta let go,
You gotta let go.
It's greed that has trapped you
And brought you so low.
You gotta let go,
You gotta let go.
Open your hand -- and let go!