Never mind raindrops on a wooden porch give me the road she said life is a strange dream,
a strange dream! I don’t always know where we are or how far we have left to go but I always know where we’ve been — Kansas City is an evil looking dude from Arkansas slapping that bass line down & the way he came on to you — it’s all good, the jazz the bourbon — all that smoke
& music — easy riding angels with crooked halos & appetites coming on stage like cattle out of the rain tossing their music around — O I know things don’t always go the way you plan I didn’t mean everything I said but what doesn’t kill you — I mean life is what you make of it take it as it comes the present’s a back door swung wide open — the road plays tricks on you plays by its own rules & so what! One minute you’re draped in blankets with a pleasant stranger the next you’re sitting in the front seat of a rented Ford wondering is this even the right road home.
— George Wallace