You wouldn’t listen to the old Man,
You hit the road, just like all the rest;
You thought yourself cool, you was the main man,
Time you turned around and headed back west.
You grabbed yourself some dough,
Nothing was going to hold you down;
Enjoying all the highs, and hating all the lows,
Man, how did you get be, such a clown?
Now you ain’t riding so high,
You look in the mirror, you look around;
Worn out, burned out, and about ready to die,
Down to zero, yeah man, down to the ground.
You’re Nikes of all gone, you’ve had your fill,
You was the one’s gonna be the boss;
Now you’re looking into the swill,
Ain’t no profit, it’s all just loss.
So as you hit the curve,
Seems like a long way home;
Steeling your soul and holding your nerve,
Old Man’s waiting, just keep on going.
You thought it was all over, you’d never get back,
Facing the music and taking the rap;
Now you’re cruising, right back on track;
Where you always belonged, in your Fathers’ lap.
(© James R. Hamilton, written Friday, 27th June, 2003)