| Hey Jack Kerouac, I think of your mother and the tears
|
| She cried, she cried for none other than her little boy lost in Our little world that hated and that dared to drag him down. |
| Her
|
| Little boy courageous who chose his words from mouths of babes got
|
| Lost in the wood. |
| Hip flask slining madman, steaming cafe flirts,
|
| They all spoke through you.
|
| Hey Jack, now for the tricky part, when you were the
|
| Brightest star who were the shadows? |
| Of the San Francisco beat
|
| Boys you were the favorite. |
| Now they sit and rattle their bones
|
| And think of their blood stoned days. |
| You chose your words from
|
| Mouths of babes got lost in the wood. |
| The hip flask slinging
|
| Madman, steaming cafe flirts, nights in Chinatown howling at Night.
|
| Allen baby, why so jaded? |
| Have the boys all grown up and
|
| Their beauty faded? |
| Billy, what a saint they’ve made you, just
|
| Like Mary down in Mexico on All Souls' Day.
|
| You chose your words from mouths of babes got lost in The wood. |
| Cool junk booting madmen, street minded girls in Harlem
|
| Howling at night. |
| What a tear stained shock of the world, you’ve
|
| Gone away without saying goodbye |