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  • Collection of Faces

    2012 - 01.22

    When you’ve road this rock as long as I have.
    You pick up faces
    You never thought you had.
    I’m proud of ’em all
    Each was a phase
    Beneath it all
    Still the same craze.

    Runaway child, went so wild
    Couldn’t stop for nothing
    It was so easy to get him riled.
    Outlaw biker, living so strange
    Saw trouble coming
    Watch him Change.

    Did it all, everything he could see
    All in the name, of bein’ free.
    The Grateful Dead, took his head
    And then Bob Dylan, why he did the rest.

    Two wheel thunder
    Was the way he liked to roll.
    The sound of the wind, soothed his soul
    And the feel of it on his face.
    No other thing, could take its place.

    Tried his hand in the working mans world.
    A virus came and blasted his brain
    And then his woman left and ruined his name.

    He couldn’t take orders anymore
    So they took him out
    Put him in a poor mans world.

    Death wanted to kill him
    Another notch in his belt
    Gave him a disease
    That he always felt.

    Half a century went by, he pulled on through.
    What kept him going, was a vision so true
    Not ready to give up
    Not ready to give in.

    All those faces, are still inside of him
    And after all this time….
    Still the same old grin.



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