On the Road

Can you hear me now?

But anyway.

Tonight also, I wrote a song, called “On the Road”.

I’m just rather reading what I wrote all night.

There are better things coming than what I wrote all night.

Straight from the mind to the voice, with no hand intervening.

Well, I left New York 1949.

(To)go across the country (wi)thout a dad-blame dime.

Montana in the cold, cold fall.

Found my father in the gambling hall.

Father, Father where have you been?

Been out here in the world since I was 10.

Dear son, he said don’t worry about me.

I’m about to die of pleurisy.

Cross the Mississippi, cross the Tennessee,

cross the Niagara, home I’ll never be.

Home in Ol’Medora, home in Ol’Truckee.

Apalachicola, home I’ll never be.

For better or worse, through thick and thin.

Like being married to the little woman.

God loved me just like I loved him.

Wants you to do the same just for him.

The worms eat away but don’t worry, watch the wind.

The worms eat away but don’t worry, watch the wind.

So I left Montana in an Ol’freight train.

The night my father died in the cold, cold rain.

Rode up to Opelousas, rode to Wounded Knee,

Rode to Ogallala, home I’ll never be.

Home I’ll never be.

Home I’ll never be.