I was born philosophizing.
Nothing glazed or compromising.
Don’t sugarcoat it or jelly-fill it.
Just let me have the cake.

I took off down southern roads.
Found myself in Mexico.
Met Neal Cassady, who fancied me,
And the two of us got baked.

He went berserk on stolen cars
While I mused on distant stars.
He said, “YES YES YES! LOVE AND JAZZ.”
Meanwhile, I melted in the sun.

Soon we parted ways.
I met a trucker on the interstate.
He didn’t say a word and I felt absurd,
Just rambling out west for fun.

So I headed on back home.
People wanted wisdom from the road.
I said, “I don’t know. I’m just a donut hole,”
And I felt very much alone.

SO I made my way to church,
A cathedral built on merch.
Moneylenders in this temple got me raging to the bone.

(Jesus doll, $9.99. Two for one wafers and wine.
Oh boy!, what a deal!)

Well they all wanted commentary.
I had none, but I had stories.
They said, “None of that. We got film for that.
Just tell us what to think.

So I made a remark on love,
How I thought that it’s enough.
Well they gazed at me so emptily I had to find myself a drink.

DROWNING

I couldn’t find me no direction,
Just a useless want of destruction.
Made my first tour in a distant war that was still very much in vogue.

Soon we mad e the headlines.
Killed a foreign general with some landmines.
They threw a party, but I felt sorry,
And they could tell I was a rogue.

Headed back to suburban sprawl.
Broke my arm in a drunken brawl.
Chalk it up to posttraumatic stress.
I’m blaming Wal-Mart for it all.

Then I felt this need to drive.
Don’t know where, don’t know why.
But when I hear the tock of a ticking clock
I get to thinking I’m gonna die.

I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.

I want music.
I want donuts.
I want love.
I want peace on earth and hippy shit like that.