I don't know why, but I still get chillbumps just reading the lyrics to this song. I went back and listened to this song again recently, and it didn't sound as good as I had remembered it. But, even knowing that, I get these chillbumps.

It's true that "Cat Stevens was the greatest singer" (a line from Better Than Ezra's "King of New Orleans"). I doubt if any Muslim ever had such a profound effect on so many infidels.

My personal favorite is the album which drove him crazy in the beginning, Matthew and Son.

Cat Stevens is a man I wish was still writing lyrics like these. I remember first hearing Cat's poetic tone in the movie Harold and Maude, but this particular song wasn't in the soundtrack. I heard it in the living room of an off campus house my ex and I (though illegally) lived in during his junior year. His head was in my lap and the room was dark. The other guys who shared the house with us had been my freshman introduction to melancholy nights and the changes we all go through at the pathetic stage of life. I believe we have all had this conversation with our own fathers, and in the memory of Father's Day that is coming up, I devote this one to them. I love you, Dad.

"MY boy," said an aged Father to his fiery and disobedient Son, "a hot temper is the soil of remorse. Promise me that when next you are angry you will count one hundred before you move or speak."

No sooner had the Son promised than he received a stinging blow from the paternal walking-stick, and by the time he had counted to seventy-five had the unhappiness to see the old man jump into a waiting cab and whirl away.