One Last Dead Show

I'm listening to the final Grateful Dead show with my buddy on the only outlet we have, Sirius radio in my pickup. Kirb is digging the groove on this warm evening, and I'm digging it too. 50 years of this band. So many of their lyrics are right from our lives. It's too hard to describe it to the non-Deadheads of the world; you either get it or you don't quite. So while gray-bearded Kirb and his gray-bearded buddy groove to this for one last night, I'm reminded of the lyrics of "Stella Blue": All the years combine, they melt into a dream, a broken angel sings from a guitar. In the end there's just that song, comes crying like the wind, it seems like all this life, was just a dream."