Have Suitcase, Will Travel

Have Suitcase, Will Travel                                    April 1, 2007

 

All those years sitting on "stand by"

Really caused a stir within my stoic eye.

Epicurean lives are lived in 360,

Yet I've stayed centrally-located to that,

Lost in translation, a stray cat.

So I pack my crap, my conscience be thy guide

To a world of splendor, making me healthy, wealthier, and more wise.

Got my Z28, turning the keys, riding on to no place in particular,

Could be to Heaven or Hell, or points in between.

 

Have suitcase, will travel, doesn't have to be anywhere typical.

Emporia, Kansas, would be as joyous a destination

As anything California could dream up.

Looking in the rearview mirror, all I see is a shrinking homestead, 

Forever more, or rather, I abscond and it'll never be for me again.

Looking for good conversation, meeting nice folk, 

A little piece of Americana is always ripe for the pickings, always free.

Them mountain folk in the Ozarks are the salt of the earth,

And all I can see in Oklahoma are miles of rolling flats and farms.

Arizona brought me a new appreciation for dry desert and the sand dwellers,

And L.A. and Co., brought me to a different understanding of the city of light.

Back east I go, and I turn at Frisco Bay and travel the Golden Gate,

Across the Montana sky back into the Wild Blue Yonder.

Chicago was a blast, a little windy though,

And Ohio was a dandy ol' cuss, all them buckeyes and mud clay.

Finally, I hit New York, the supposed center of the universe,

And I then think of the dreaded question I never that was.

This little continent might be divided like a puzzle,

But there's some kind of magic glue to keep it together.

Perhaps America should just be called "Elmers."

 

Pickin' my guitar, singin' away as I wish for the rain to pour today.

I can bathe in the real holy water nature intended for us,

Or retreat further north to the grandeur of Niagara Falls.

While in the Shenandoah Valley, I pick a honey suckle

And play the part of the great Southern pixie from whence I came,

For no matter how far I drove that little Z28 that could,

I still have a bit of the blue-tick hound and the back porch within me.