Holy-cow Insanity

I was on the side of the road,
headin' out for the west coast,
they say the streets are lined with gold.
The water was gettin' into m'shoes,
the cold was bitin' into my bones.
Ever since you left, I've had them worried blues.
But that don't matter anyhow,
I headed out for Amarillio,
and always had that book of holy-cow insanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

I hitched a ride to Ashtabula,
and another one to the Village.
Your ma said you's back in Astatula,
I never did cry all that much,
I knew I'd find you again,
whether on my legs, or with a crutch.
Everywhere I went, I bought them old albums.
I'd lay on a bench, wishin' for you,
but I always had that book of so-true insanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

As I's on Manhattan island one time,
I saw a man on the corner, on the curb he laid.
Newspaper was over his head, I didn't believe my own mind.
The cop cam around told him to get up,
but he didn't answer, so he hit him.
The old man had a bunch of pennies in his cup,
and the cop called the wagon, said he was dead man.
I just started walkin' again, kept lookin' back,
but I always had that book of Holy Land insanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

I was down in Brownsville,
when I heard you was in town.
I started feelin' quite a bit ill,
So I hightailed outta there,
and never did look back
'cause I figured you didn't even care.
I still wish we was together in the same bed.
But you prob'ly got some other man,
but I always had that book of dead insanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

I found me a nice girl.
She had nice brown skin, and a smile-to-die-for.
She put flowers of all colors up and down her curls.
She'd just come from a shack in Cali
and she said she knew a guy from the Village.
We fell in love, and so forth, but it ended the tally.
She crawled out the motel window one morn,
and I bet she headed back south, she reminded me of you;
but I always had that book reborn insanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

I'd take my guitar around the towns,
and play some old Irish tunes,
so after I passed the basket 'round,
I'd go out and live them songs.
I seen so many poor folk bummin' out,
and it sure didn't take me long
to see some crackhead get shot.
I wasn't the same man afterwards,
but I always had that book of hot instanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

I had to sell my nice watch
to get away from your screw.
I wish I coulda found me a new match,
but Fate has a way of steppin' in.
As I started to get close to her,
I saw your brother come in again.
He said you missed me so,
then I had ditch her and hitch to Colorado,
but I always had book of Rimbaud insanity.
Some call it typing, I call it poetry.

You never were in Colorado,
I coulda guessed he was joshin' me
I felt like I was the guy they called Crazy Joe.
That man back in the French Quarter did something to you,
don't think I never guessed about it.
You left in the middle of dinner, and you said I knew where you'd go.
I hopped boxcars, and hitched with freaks like crackheads,
I met guys like Dean and Carlo, Mississippi Gene and so forth,
but I always had that book of inbred insanity.
Some call it typing, I call poetry.