Biloxi back to Mobile in the middle of the day,
out of the heart of Mississippi darkness
and home to Alabama the Beautiful,
driving in a Saturn (yet feeling so Camaro) --
loved, lit, burning out my demons like a dead man should.
No, I haven't got the top down, goon! It's hot as hell down here.
This ain't no Hollywood, and I ain't yr mental construct.
I am alive and this is my life.

And I am not afraid to feel, and I am not afraid to care,
to make, to break, to kiss, to love,
(not in a boat, not with a goat)
to breathe, to slap, and come alive, and come alive, and come alive.
And I am not afraid to burn your paper daydream down.
Your snideness? You snicker? Your hands tied? You would.

Can you feel me? Can you read me?
Can you read me? Can you feel me?

I am your delusion of granduer, I am your chromium nightmare.
A redneck with a bullshit detector and a yellow #2 pencil.
They surely see me as I pass them by, thrashing like a tickled dog
to the nappy crackling pop rock of the Verve,
looping loud & soothing, raw & sweet.
Titanic, anthemic, sold-out-stadium, and corny as hell.
Can y'all hear my challenge song?
Listen as I sing along:

"Come on, let the spirit inside you
Don't wait to be found, come along with my sound
Let the spirit move you,
Let the waves come on, confuse you
I never met no one to deny sound"

{ higher up and deeper in }