He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons, waiting for summer, his pastures to change
And as the moon rises he sits by his fire, thinking about women and glasses of beer
And closing his eyes as the dogies retire, he sings out a song which is soft but it's clear
as if maybe someone could hear...
Goodnight you moon light ladies, rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Now the first of December was covered with snow
and so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston
Though the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting
with ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go
There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway
a song that they sing when they take to the sea
a song that they sing of their home in the sky, maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
but singing works just fine for me
So, goodnight you moon light ladies, rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Well, I'm a steamroller, baby, I'm bound to roll all over you.
Yes, I'm a steamroller now, baby, I'm bound to roll all over you.
I'm gonna inject your soul with some sweet rock 'n roll and shoot you full of rhythm and blues.
Well, I'm a cement mixer, a churning urn of burning funk.
Yes, I'm a cement mixer for you, baby, a churning urn of burning funk.
Well, I'm a demolition derby, yes, a hefty hunk of steaming junk.
Now, I'm a napalm bomb, baby, just guaranteed to blow your mind.
Yeah, I'm a napalm bomb for you, baby, just guaranteed to blow your mind
And if I can't have your love for my own, sweet child, won't be nothing left behind,
It seems how lately, baby, got a bad case steamroller blues.
Damn this traffic jam, time I get home my supper'll be cold, damn this traffic jam.
Well I left my job about 5 o'clock, it took fifteen minutes go three blocks,
Just in time to stand in line with a freeway looking like a parking lot.
Damn this traffic jam, how I hate to be late, it hurts my motor to go so slow.
Damn this traffic jam, time I get home my supper'll be cold, damn this traffic jam.
Now I almost had a heart attack, looking in my rear view mirror,
I saw myself the next car back, looking in the rear view mirror,
about to have a heart attack, I said,
damn this traffic jam, how I hate to be late, it hurts my motor to go so slow.
Damn this traffic jam, time I get home my supper'll be cold, damn this traffic jam.
Now when I die I don't want no coffin, I thought about it all too often.
Just strap me in behind the wheel and bury me with my automobile.
Damn this traffic jam, how I hate to be late, it hurts my motor to go so slow.
Damn this traffic jam, time I get home my supper'll be cold, damn this traffic jam. Damn.
Now I used to think that I was cool running around on fossil fuel,
Until I saw what I was doing was driving down the road to ruin.
gitchysum ...
“The past is a place of reference, not a place of residence; the past is a place of learning, not a place of living.”
