The Drifting Disciples of Jack Kerouac (About a Girl)
Posted: June 15th, 2008, 3:07 am
Dharma bums riding on the Midnight Ghost,
We'll take up shelter on the moonlit coast;
Have a drink for the fact that we're somewhat saved
As we toast to the touch of the crashing waves.
A final reprieve from the memories that cling
To our backs like they're our shadows
And the mournful songs they sing:
The Cocaine Blues and the Dirge of the Used--
Once played louder every time we refused
To accept them as the songs for the wrongs of our lives--
Now as silent and still as the air on this night.
I've drifted countless miles, now I'm happy I've found
Another embattled soul who simply won't be bound
To the spirit-breaking dogma that they feed to us for dinner;
Another sweet soul that the righteous call a sinner;
Who'll stagger but not fall 'til she turns the wheel;
Who questions what the wisemen have told is real.
I knew that there were others. I knew that I would find
My fellow dharma bums with freedom on their minds.
So at our moonlight talks when we sit on the rocks
In our lazy-night wear and our dirty, old socks,
Remember that I revere you as something more than a friend;
You're a fellow dharma bum. We'll find our peace by the end.
And if deadly dogma should return to try to finish the job,
And your strength has been sapped by the force of the mob
Then I'll lend you my hand and we'll be happy to be
As we ride the Midnight Ghost to the edge of the sea.
We'll take up shelter on the moonlit coast;
Have a drink for the fact that we're somewhat saved
As we toast to the touch of the crashing waves.
A final reprieve from the memories that cling
To our backs like they're our shadows
And the mournful songs they sing:
The Cocaine Blues and the Dirge of the Used--
Once played louder every time we refused
To accept them as the songs for the wrongs of our lives--
Now as silent and still as the air on this night.
I've drifted countless miles, now I'm happy I've found
Another embattled soul who simply won't be bound
To the spirit-breaking dogma that they feed to us for dinner;
Another sweet soul that the righteous call a sinner;
Who'll stagger but not fall 'til she turns the wheel;
Who questions what the wisemen have told is real.
I knew that there were others. I knew that I would find
My fellow dharma bums with freedom on their minds.
So at our moonlight talks when we sit on the rocks
In our lazy-night wear and our dirty, old socks,
Remember that I revere you as something more than a friend;
You're a fellow dharma bum. We'll find our peace by the end.
And if deadly dogma should return to try to finish the job,
And your strength has been sapped by the force of the mob
Then I'll lend you my hand and we'll be happy to be
As we ride the Midnight Ghost to the edge of the sea.
