Waltzing through the chaos that life’s left for today,
Dragging along my battered horn in case she wants to play
‘Scuse me, Ms. Bartender, but I’ve got something to say
Ain’t nobody listening to the radio anyway

I don’t need a soapbox, no suit or microphone
Just a space to spread the truth wherever I may roam
I speak straight from the bottom of a bottle left at home
The night is not much easier when you take it on alone

Hear ye, hear ye, gather round to hear a tale
Of dreaming big, working hard, but destined still to fail

Shredding that loopy little melody,
The craziest cat you ever did see
Make you feel so alive, ladies screaming, “Wow boy!”
I jump and I jive, cuz I’m a bebop cowboy

graham ******* mud pie at pop's,
rest his soul
the rush of new friendships,
the faith in letting go

reading when you’re lonely,
chillin' while you’re old,
rivers in the blinding heat,
campfires in the cold

car rides with the windows down,
jogging with the pooch,
biking through a foreign town,
stealing a native smooch

gum drops,
lemon heads,
marshmallow peeps,
sunday dinner,
carnivals,
local meet-and-greets

snow days,
warm winter days,
soup to ward the flu,
paydays,
big-puppy days,
and coming home to you

hear, hear
through your skull
stuffed with thick tears

show me
how to be

what I need
who I am
why I care

when's the new?
where am I?

budding thoughts of newer days
on post-its everywhere
each behold a simple life
that should be made to bear

tiny futures made of ink
that whistle under hands
wait until they’re asked to speak
as more the world demands

if every human from the earth
fulfilled their ecstasy
then nothing would be hungered for
and none would cease to be

we’ll search the journals and the notes
if we can do a thing
for those who can’t or those who won’t
to live under a wing

to wish is but to live or die
and you’ve been last to know
the nights are cold and days are dry
so write them as you go