Swimmin' in the American River today There you are on the bank sunbathing What a beautiful picture your bathing suit and shades Oh you're a princess how did I ever get so lucky
Canadian Geese I like watching them flow And watching the old timers across the river panning for gold Oh the water's so cold yet refreshing Ain't nothin' like swimmin' in a river it's so decompressing
I'm a songwriter I'm a songwriter I am through and through And I'll be writing songs about you 'til I'm dead and blue And you know I've lived a life and that there's been others too But nothin' compares to my life with you Nothing compares to making love to you
Nothing compares to delicious cookin' Nothing compares to how good I feel When layin' next to watchin' TV and cuddlin' Nothing compares with your kindness and patience Nothing compares to your fragrance, your radiance
Since I was 15 I've carried an affliction Since I was 15 I've lived with a condition And I'm workin' on it workin' on it, I'm workin' on it hard baby I got friends in my corner advising and helpin' me The first time I ever looked at you I've thought, though I'm flawed, you're the one for me And I'm the one for you
Was an eventful day I caught a lunker I threw it back in the river it was a big orange carp clunker And now you're in bed you're readin' a book by Edward Bunker Next to the framed photo of my old cat Thumper And I'm reading by John Fante's Full of Life He admits he's nothing without Joyce his beloved wife
Wouldn't matter if I rolled around in a Rolls Royce Don't matter how many custom built Les Pauls I own Don't matter how strong my voice
Don't matter if I got a Golden Gate view Don't none of it mean nothin' without you
This year has found me so down and full of gloom But feeling full of gloom for me ain't nothin' new I've been carrying it around since I was in my mother's womb In fact there's probably still a residue of gloom Under the many coats of paint in my childhood bedroom But I'm trying to drop this bag of gloom Though I'll probably carry it around to some extent to my tomb Call it gloom call it glum I've carried some depression Self-induced, maybe, I don't know Maybe it's genetic Sometimes I lay in bed 'til one or two In the afternoon Dreaming I'm onstage entertaining Then I wake and think that my god that felt great Then I'm hit with the pain, that for now, being on stage is no musician's fate But my life is still quite dream Bouncing back and forth between The Sierras and San Francisco and New Orleans With you my Queen And from this day forward I'll strive to be your King And here we are in Mid-October and before we know it the years' gonna be over. But damn, the Roma tomatoes that we planted are still producing, and tall as little trees I'll never forget our beautiful spring and summer days this year, driving around old mountain towns, taking photos of old payphones, and planting mint, parsley and basil in the garden, or driving to the old Chinese town Isleton, where we stopped along the Delta and talked to a guy named Hugo, who told us the history of the town Or having Italian food in Rio Vista and standing on a dock, looking out over the water, where Humphrey the whale resided for a little while. That was your idea, driving there. You've come up with so many ideas for us - things to do - road trips and little getaways You've sensed my restlessness with not having tour dates and you've been so supportive, on days that I cried and worried about my career and felt so purposeless. You're the strongest, most patient, caring, beautiful person I know Now, my only purpose is to keep making art and to be the best person I can be to you, and to everybody I know. I can't wait to see you tonight when I'm back from the studio, to tell you about how Full of Life ended John Fante's relationship with his dad is so much like mine. My god. My dads' gonna be 87 in November. I can't wait for us to visit him. He'll be so happy to see me, but even happier to see me there with youTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
