Kerouac, yeah, Kerouac His words, the words, so many words just All brothers of the same horn Sisters of the saxophone Notes, music, words, a melody A quote, a figure eight, a figure If you listen close to the drummer It's like a mirror and you're invisible Like you're in a back seat No handles on the doors Just a beautiful driver up front She knows where she's going Kerouac, the observation machine Caressing the most passing of scenes With photographic love Passionate photographic love Vulnerable as anyone knew His memories pull shades up and down Doors are not done, telegrams arrive Every morning, something extra [Incomprehensible] Remembering everything Like a snatch of melody A drumbeat remembering, mythologizing So fast, all the time moving The words, the words are drumsticks Pounding out drum beats Like a monk, like a monk, melody With mistakes, yeah, mistakes and sudden inspirations Edges, corners, explosions, convections All fast through a slow motion landscape Yeah, fast through a slow motion landscape