Kerouac

Kerouac, yeah, Kerouac

His words, the words, so many words just

All brothers of the same horn

Sisters of the saxophone

Notes, music, words, a melody

A quote, a figure eight, a figure

If you listen close to the drummer

It's like a mirror and you're invisible

Like you're in a back seat

No handles on the doors

Just a beautiful driver up front

She knows where she's going

Kerouac, the observation machine

Caressing the most passing of scenes

With photographic love

Passionate photographic love

Vulnerable as anyone knew

His memories pull shades up and down

Doors are not done, telegrams arrive

Every morning, something extra

Remembering everything

Like a snatch of melody

A drumbeat remembering, mythologizing

So fast, all the time moving

The words, the words are drumsticks

Pounding out drum beats

Like a monk, like a monk, melody

With mistakes, yeah, mistakes and sudden inspirations

Edges, corners, explosions, convections

All fast through a slow motion landscape

Yeah, fast through a slow motion landscape