He's a poet he's a picker he's a prophet he's a pusher He's a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he's stoned He's a walkin' contradiction partly truth and partly fiction Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home
Livin' on the road, my friend Was gonna keep you free and clean And now you wear your skin like iron And your breath as hard as kerosene
Weren't you mama's only boy But her favorite one, it seems She began to cry when you said, "Goodbye" Sank into your dreams
Counted the Stars
Counted the stars on the 4th of July Wishing we were rockets bursting in the sky Talking about redemption and leaving things behind As the sun sinks west of the Mendocino county line
Sunday, March 25, 2012
I just had phone conversation with an old school chum from my days it Alberta.
Our 40th is coming up. Two of our class mates are gone.
I wasn't ready for that.