The Karl Schloz Band. American Mythology
Sometimes you don’t know where your past is leading you.
Or better, you don’t want to admit it.
It’s a long ride from the Mississippi Delta to New Orleans.
Where the river meets the Gulf of Mexico, where I held her hand.
It’s a longer ride from the Blue Star Highway to Route 66 to the dry heat of where the desert
meets the sea.
When you don’t look straight ahead, those old ghosts will show the way. With a grin.
Those wooden booths of old Irish bars remind me of what I choose to forget.
I’ll never forget dancing with her under the moonshine of the Skyline Café.
The canyons of NYC, the lights of gay Paris.
The werewolves of London, and the dogs of Spain.
No matter where you go, everyone is the same.
Have a drink when you’re dry, and a thought when you’re lonely. of her.
I never know what time it is when I’m dreaming.
I hear the stars exploding into a deep dark blue endless night.
Like the fizz of a pop-bottle top.
The Universe has swallowed me whole and I don’t even feel it.
I tucked around the corner with crazy Peter to smoke a little J.
I do what I do, and I say what I say. What is there to say?
All I ever wanted, was for you to say “yes.” To me.
It’s a long long road ahead, runnin’ faster to the end.
And there is no time for goodbyes.