I was born in the back seat of a greyhound bus traveling down highway 41. I ran away from home and was taken in by a traveling gypsy woman who tied me to the wagon wheel so that I would get around. Then I ran away and joined the circus. They put me in the sideshow but I didn't like it much so I snuck up to the frontshow. Later, I got a job in the great north woods but one day the ax just fell. so I motorvated down to new Orleans and became a Bob Dylan imitator. Nobody noticed so I drifted up the coast on the Intercoastal Waterway, landed in jail in New York City for starting a peaceful riot. Never did like it all that much. So I got a riding lawnmower and drove it across the country, met up with a little gal; called herself Camellia Gocart. We drove them till the wheels fell off and burned. So then she thumbed a Diesel down in the pouring rain. I pulled out my red bandanna and we sang that trucker all the way into New Orleans - but then, the streets of Rome. Did I tell you about the streets of Rome? Me and that little gal walked and painted that town like it was going out of busyness. But we split up on a dark sad night both agreeing it was best.
     That's about all. I hitch-hiked on an ocean liner back to where I was from. Got me a job in an unemployment office and became a regular joe, all the while remembering my dream of becoming a next elvis. Wrote a song for everyone and wrote a song for you. Wrote a memo to the president but it was returned to sender. Now I'm semi-retired and living in Catcando, Allerroo.