Rising from the froth and bubbles of a murkish slime with ravens and roots all tattered about, came upon a banjo in the weeds, begun to play a note or two. Out came Glory sat next to me in the mud and says, "Boy, you better learn to play that thing..." Takes me into town my jeans all torn and muddy, tells me he's got some music needs to be heard.

Meets me up with a travelin band and we heads out down the highway. Got a gold watch and a pocket full of mud. I rides horses all through towns and picks me up girls time to time. Got a buddy bangs skins like you wouldn't believe down in San Jose. Was up in Assfault for a while until we finally all settled in Bakerstown. Now we all on bikes, and we fish in canals. Caught me a big one down at Salt Hook. Blue as a robin's egg and greasy as a motherfucker.

Everytime I go I sees same thing- people not knowin how to feel themselves, or hehe, at least forgetting whats there. Makes me wish I was back in Maine with nothin but a bottle of Rum, a guitar, and a pic-a-nic basket. You all invited up there anytime, bless ya hearts.