Were on the road again
and i can see the end of the day
but anyway
i think we can make it
No time to complicate
eat from a wooden plate
at the station
beside the rural bar
Soul music a playin
top-hat singer was ancient
drummer was a little italian
and on we went again
Down to the foggy steps
place where the buddah slept
in the summer
we must of traveled far
moonlight is shining through
leaves like your father drew
in the basement
down the road from you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem