Kerouac, yeah, Kerouac
His words, the words, so many words just
All brothers of the same horn
Sisters of the saxophone
Notes, music, words, a melody
A quote, a figure eight, a figure
If you listen close to the drummer
It's like a mirror and you're invisible
Like you're in a back seat
No handles on the doors
Just a beautiful driver up front
She knows where she's going
Kerouac, the observation machine
Caressing the most passing of scenes
With photographic love
Passionate photographic love
Vulnerable as anyone knew
His memories pull shades up and down
Doors are not done, telegrams arrive
Every morning, something extra [Incomprehensible]
Remembering everything
Like a snatch of melody
A drumbeat remembering, mythologizing
So fast, all the time moving
The words, the words are drumsticks
Pounding out drum beats
Like a monk, like a monk, melody
With mistakes, yeah, mistakes and sudden inspirations
Edges, corners, explosions, convections
All fast through a slow motion landscape
Yeah, fast through a slow motion landscape
