50 Gallon Drum

My idea of heaven

I enjoy the fixing of a flat tire

I like art made of garbage

A little pain is good for you

I don't want everything to be made easy for me

Fast ain't always better than slow, you know

A home run every time would start to get boring after a while

I hope I never forget how to bleed

Static, fuzz, hiss, it's just a thing sometimes

Yeah, fifty gallon drum, that's what I'm talking about

Give me a hundred bucks to work on your bike

Maybe I'll cut your hair for you while I'm at it

I wanna work, I'm ready

I wanna take my baby dancing

Scary movies on a Monday morning

Chopping some wood, wind in my tires

Chocolate chip cookies, rain on the window

It's the underneath of Paris

It's New York City from the back

Mount Umhiak in the fall

In a moment between heartbeats

I'll set fire to the sky or cut the devil's throat

I'm three for four with a double and two stolen bases

I'm having my picture taken with the Amazing Kreskin

It's a shiny day and the dog shit smells like strawberries

I found a shoebox full of View-Master reels

I don't have to cut my hair or do math ever again if I don't want to

Tell the bounty collectors to kiss my ass

I'm a hunter-gatherer surveying the junkyards

Warrior monk with a month-long bus pass

Odd-job Casanova

I write nothing down and keep my clothes in a guitar case

I run with the bulls and swim with the pool sharks

Perfection is a place where

There's two for one milkshakes on Tuesdays

It's where you can pay for a room with your good looks

The ballparks are always busy

And the umps always make the right call

Every day is Halloween and people use plastic Christmas trees

They fight with their fists and go to drive-in movies

There's no such thing as luck

Or the dentist and shoes never hurt your feet

I keep a lighter and dog treats in my pockets at all times

Because you never know

I got a Saint Francis of Assisi keychain

And a wallet made of Corinthian leather

Sometimes I drive all night and listen to talk radio

Sometimes I practice scratching for hours on end

But usually I sit in the window and listen to my tapes

I got all kinds of tapes

Hugs and kisses and treats in a bag

In paradise a buck will buy you a comic book, a soda, and a candy bar

You can always find a place to park or to hide

The DJs only play originals

And the theaters still have silver screens and Buster Keaton matinees

I'm an outlaw faith healer with sock monkeys for the kids

I'm the ringmaster king of the convenience store parking lot

My show is an every-man-for-himself freakfest

Pack a lunch and ask for Johnny Rockwell

Here your favorite pen works forever, but memory is parallax

It's seventies doing twenties, fifties doing two thousand

Everyone's got their own arrow and

There ain't no short-handled shovels

It's under my pillow, it's tomorrow and the next day