Back pack hangin' off my bony hips. . .
I'm off to see the world, on foot with thumb. . .
Gotta keep movin'. . . race track groovin',
You know the truth of my travels, (most think I'm a bum.)
Always that search for pie in the sky.
Let me burn my bridges my own way.
I can always dig under and out . . .
It's my f'riggin funeral, and I wanna pay.
Screamin' in the pourin’ rain . . .
Cryin’ the middle of the road . . .
Somebody get this damn monkey off my back!
Can't take no more, too heavy my load.
Funny how growin' older makes you grow up.
Never thought I'd wanna have roots and a wife.
She was small, dark haired and classy, actin' sassy;
I'm whipped man, now she's sharin' my life.
Note* I wrote this about my son who was a free spirit
in his youth.