Fill those bags and
build bold baggage,
like Bilbo Baggins,
made for mountains out of hill-hole standards
mountains out of mole-hill-growth status,
shed it! Still-souls? Stagnant!
dragging and pine for thrills roads have when
you hit those cabin-fever-ill-woes maddened!
They say that “you hit roads if nomadic”
and they hit most back, knocked on heels,
imposing a script so grand and
a montage reel film roll action
instilled in flashbacks
in which one is enriched on a trip so classic!
I'm a traveling man every album I hand
out to a fan is a gallon of gas,
but not only that! It's a powerful pact,
an accountable act no doubt it combats
when I'm dowsed and I'm sad
and I'm drowning in baths
of the doubts that I have
when I'm down it'll back me up:
I'm proud of the pounds and the laughs
from the crowds as they clap,
ideally what's profound in my tracks
returns the favor when they prefer to play their
favorite sounds of what resounds from my drafts!
It affects the future, past and present
it also catalyzes AllOne family ties and vast connections
by supplying the aforementioned
gas for rides expands our network
as I drive to meet new fans and friends
and satisfy endeavoring
to fraternize and tether
our compassionate twine,
pleasurably masterminded
and that is why I have to write forever,
this plan of mine I track and try to render
ratify and remind us tenderly
to intend to clasp together

that's exactly what we're meant for!

Wanderlust, rolling stone never gathers moss
cabin-fever pressure stress sure has me crushed
dreamer on quick-sand-man-swamp, stagnant pond.
Mosquito -Coastal west denial virus has to suck
carry on....carry on...carry on...carry on..

Wanderlust, rolling stone never gathers moss
loco-motivational speaker, emotion baggage bard
hit the road Jack Kerouac, wick lit with Chris McCandless thoughts
grab your stuff, Houdini routine's clasps and cuffs,
carry on....carry on... carry on...

When I leave for touring the country,
in/outta Doors like a Benny Hill/Morrison party,
I know you mourn my departing like I'm joining the army,
Wishing on the fortune of Blarney
“stop “writing” The Road, you're not Cormac McCarthy”
bicker back, tit for tat, isn't that Laurel and Hardy?
Be assured by me darling:
I know this isn't quite the life, you envisioned/idolized
as a kid watching Disney princesses bribed to brides
by exquisite whitest knights wishing I could buy some time
for us kissing eye-to-eye instead of pixelated “hi” and “bye”
on a glitching Iphone Skype,
By the by,
I'm busy business tripping (drive all night,
arrive on site, social butterfly in sky,
moth to the limelight shine,
push merchandise and rhyme on mics!)
you could have it different,
but at the highest price,
what kind of guy would I be,
quietly submissive to a 9-5?
presence consistent though not quite alive,
stripped of my soul pride
ambition might have died,
want Quality or quantity of time supplied?
If I slide in line and take orders
(replacing of course the courageous course
Spaulding Gray form of my orators aorta
my core would emanate a dead and gray aura

although tight schedules aren't great for us
the more time is special when it's made for ya)

Wanderlust, rolling stone never gathers moss
cabin-fever pressure stress sure has me crushed
dreamer on quick-sand-man-swamp, stagnant pond.
Mosquito coastal west denial virus has to suck
carry on....carry on... carry on.... carry on....

Wanderlust, rolling stone never gathers moss
loco-motivational speaker, emotion baggage bard
hit the road Jack Kerouac, wick lit with Chris McCandless thoughts
grab your stuff, Houdini routine's clasps and cuffs,
carry on....carry on...carry on... carry on...

Whether in the studio or doing shows
cruising roads, going through my notes
in my room composing,
suppose that you should know
you be those who keep me composed
in calm poses
I vow right now I shall never do this faux
cause you're whom I do this for
I'm on the move and go,
due to those who've shown me direction,
beauty boasting the compass in compassion
for that alone, you never are. I love you truly folks.