From the recording Show Me Good Land
Show Me Good Land
I don’t remember a time when I had a peaceful mind;
back then, it never occurred to me that I should.
I just worked and drank and read, until my eyes was bloodshot red;
beating out my own trail through the woods.
Studied with the teachers; prayed with the preachers,
did every damn thing I knew, until it hurt.
I trusted and believed; got lied to and deceived;
clawing out my own little piece of dirt.
“Show me good land!” said the pilgrim man,
as the natives slowly glided into sight.
I said, “Show me good land; I need a master plan,
then maybe, I can get some sleep tonight.”
Took my savings out the bank, topped off my tank,
and swung my chariot low down 95’.
Didn’t know where I was headed; just kept burning that unleaded;
staring out past the headlights at the night.