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smack dab in the middle class
Folder:
whole lotta other stuff when I was wet behind the ears
and knew nothing of fears
in that little town by the bay
with the big city in sight
just another punk running in the night
just before I ran to be another runaway
smack dab in the middle class
opening of the eyes
trying to play the blues before I knew
what the word blue could do
well down there where I went to be free
there is something to see
you find a lot of black-and-white bumper stickers
on the back of pick-up trucks
in the back window
below the gun rack
that say,
"God Bless Johnny Cash."
bit of the sublime as poetry
I remember when Bob and Johnny sang
Girl from the North Country
and now those memories are just
a hard
cold
wind blowing
two voices of gravel vibrating
not like the Raps without strings
perched on their pedestal
pitched in a key of languish
