Scroll on, Jack, roll out the roll,
That stretches down old midnight road,
Speeding mad holy cowboy
Parking lot buckaroo
Puddles of sweet fevered sweat
Minds bright racing minds
piercing eyes meet piercing eyes
burn, baby, burn, burnburnburn
What about you, long lost brother?
Would you like to cut out on that relentless hot, rainy, cold, snowy, icy, long dusty road?
It’s different now; the roads are jammed. The great wide expanses, sold, gone.
Everything’s messed up.
Is there anything left that isn’t homogenized, bland, and incorporated into the great commercial stratosphere?
Yes, yes, yes, the purity of the open road
Cotton picking is back breaking
Salt peanuts, salt peanuts
Are you satiated in beatific splendor, ecstatic on new wine?
Do you now sing celestial hymns with Pooh Bear?
And scribble away in ecstatic notebook
‘til it’s juicy and ripe ripe ripe
In your search for “it” you climbed beyond Garret Mountain
Scroll on, Jack
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