The Hard Way

there's a highway to my vision
free of bears, marauders, and lunatics
just take a left at floyd peterson's dairy farm,
a sharp right at the crossroads
and follow the signs

of course, there's laws
and those to enforce em
-and ain't we the lucky ones!

but it's a breeze!
windows down, radio cranked
cherry cokes on every corner, and
lathered in ice!

why, good God!
i saw one place with
49 kinds of ice cream!

trouble is, i always choose the gale over breezes,
bears over puppy dogs,
marauders over preachers
and lunatics for companions

why, i've nudged elbows with jed smith,
drank hugh glass under the table afore
he get half ett by the bear
and outrun colter when them blackfeet took chase

and ol bridger aint fit to saddle my pony

but now them damn highways
aint caused me
nothin but fits and misery
so it's a brush cuttin i will go

i'll ford the yellowjack
backwallow the tundra
spit back the blizzard
and scale the moose's tooth

i'll rendezvous with pirates,
piss the cape horn screech,
then smoke with the souix
while out shootin the banditos!

more n likely, i'll never reach that vision
but maybe i'll find me another long the way
and  anyway,
even pain should be earned