I don't really like listening to the radio so much.
I'll take a rusty nail and scratch your initials on my arm.
Your old home town's so far away, but inside your head there's a record that's playing, a song called 'Hold On
It's new, it's improved, it's old fashioned.
I don't like the stigma that comes with being called a poet . . . So I call what I'm doing an improvisational adventure or an inebriational travelogue.
Folks who work here are professors. Don't replace all the knowers with guessors keep'em open they're the ears of the town