What an amazing day it is, I am ready,
It is the date my lungs have waited for,
Better than Christmas or Halloween, it's 4/20!
Everyone enjoy, smoke **** galore!

Final ticks on the clock
Hourglass; a few grains
Might not make sense to you
But I am not insane
Feel the end drawing near
I don't have much time left
I'm okay to move on
Only have one regret

Many mornings passed by
Was in bed wrapped up tight
Fire streaked through the sky
And the day replaced night
An explosion of hues
Fire that God had set
The sky painted for me
Did not see; I regret

Or a clear and cold night
Spent locked up and away
Prisoner in my home
By my choice it's this way
Staring at the TV
Often feel like its pet
Should have stared at the stars
Beauty missed; I regret

An assembly of friends
Maybe family event
It could be something small
Or require repent
Those I love and I know
People I have yet met
Socialize; Interact
Did not do; I regret

I followed my heart
And my dreams were alive
Lived each day to the max
Drinking nectar of life
The potential I had
Wasn't lost on a bet
Fairy tale had come true
Dreaming still; I regret

Why fear something so close so near
something inevitable
Is it where we'll go that scares you?
Is it how you'll leave?

What irony that we fear eternal darkness and sleep
but we seemed so deprived of these things
A wilting rose rested at your tomb,
A soft melody drifts in the wind

As you lay dreadfully wasting
away
people remember the words they say
Rest in peace
how could we not?
Were forever stuck on the train of
thought.

this cautious man (bobby jean) born in the u.s.a.
grownin’ up in the badlands of atlantic city
bonded with blood brothers
felt born to run along backstreets
in brilliant disguise that did cover me
frequently blinded by the light
of the full moon

casting silhouettes against darkness on the edge of town
which lunar shafts pierced candy’s room
while immersed in book of dreams
describing better days on a Cadillac ranch

where devils & dust - visible dancing in the dark
celebrating like calendar showered 4th of july
or other glory days in darlington county
even though I ain’t got you.

livin’ in the future
mine hungry heart hankered and felt like I’m on fire
for you, this fire in me craved human touch
desire - roaring into the ole factory fire because I wanna marry you
because the night populated with girls in their summer clothes

each dazzling like 57 channels (and nothin’ on)
in imagination of my american skin
descended from when adam raised a cain
before last to die forecasting kingdom of days
now dwelling in celestial mansion on the hill.

now rightfully claim status of I’m a rocker/
local hero and I’m goin’ down
meeting across the river
if I should fall behind
on the downbound train as living proof
within light of day magic jungleland

policed by highway patrolman i.e. johnny 99
alias johnny bye bye – held up without a gun
defending this lucky town established on Matamoras banks
from an incident on 57th street

thus celebrated as local hero every independence day
when with ****** incorporated firing point blank out in the street
that staccato new york city serenade from no surrender outlaw pete
originally from nebraska.

it’s hard to be a saint in the city open all night
within my hometown
once my father’s house, now my city of ruins
where tis moot to ask does this bus stop at 82nd street?

one step up
into the pink Cadillac
hops the ramrod queen of the supermarket
teasing audio dials sans radio nowhere
a red headed woman

racing in the street toward secret garden
to save my love – with thee angel rosalita (come out tonight)
offering reason to believe roll of the dice real world
and to prove it all night

from spare parts – shards of roulette wheel
housing souls of the departed
please save my love and stolen car
for sherry darling – that spirit in the night

she’s the one among souls of the departed
no longer stopped by state trooper
precinct based along streets of philadelphia
some crackling like streets of fire
straight time mandate for those armed to the teeth
along tenth avenue freeze-out.

requiem per terry’s song – what love can do
accompanied by e street shuffle
performed in somber tones
rumbling down thunder road
for souls of used cars
two hearts crushed

along this hard land
for: the ghost of tom joad
the last carnival homage to wild billy’s circus story
the price you pay when you’re alone
working on a dream
now wreck on the highway.

we take care of our own from youngstown
when heading of to the promised land
the rising distant mystical eden
where you can look (but you’d better not touch)
espying the river of salvation

joining eternally the ties that bind
a tunnel of love
or like the wrestler
pinning opponent tougher than the rest
like laborers working on the highway
chiseled like this hard land!