ON PURITY-a little morning meditation
rock is a beautiful mongrel-cur...adaptable as a pure-blood can never be. The dog-soldier prophet of music. The dirt-farmer poet. The blue-collar angel with a dirty face, big heart and skinned knuckles.
tough as a steel forged ten size nail being driven directly though the heart of despotism and hypocrisy.
all these things with a healthy dose of serious B/S and (now) hamburger sales. There is a bikini in there somewhere. And tight jeans stained with 30 weight motor oil,mustard and red clay hardened with sweat and beer. And laughter born of the national absurdity and true realization of individual freedom- mixed with healthy cynicism and a revolutionary kick up of dust in the face of the Landlords-the self-appointed Bosses- who suppose ownership of our spirit.
Don't tread on me, I'm the mongrel, the mutt, the real deal, the eater of lies, the mirror of deceit,the fixed glare and sinister smirk. All in the Key of E...which stands for Everything they ain't.Everyman. Everywoman.
The profiteers,posuers and bean counters will never win because rockers NEVER grow old and NEVER die.

Everybody drink a Coca-Cola and burp in unison in church because God-indeed- has a SERIOUS sense of humor.
how daggum amurican is that?
Ok...I'm done.
For Now.
See you beautiful rocker-mutts tonight. Somewhere.
Bring teeth.

MYSTR Treefrog.