I don't know- this rock 'n' roll--Rock 'n' Rowel is what it is- what are we doing Wylie?
Ohh, I know what we're doing. A couple of
years ago I wrote this wonderfully
irreverent rodeo drug user song called
LSD and it goes something like this:
Every time I do it I kind of, it's kind
of like a, a white-bread hip-hop rap and
I have a hard time getting tapped off
sometimes.
Six roughstock buck-offs in a
land barge Ford, Six riggin bags cached
in the trunk, Umpteen go-arounds none of us
scored, Our riggin's all leaked and we sunk--With our ids and our egos all shrunk
We're bummered in a deep purple funk. Hatful-o-ones buys a full tank-o-gas
sack-a-chew-n-a-two-pack-o'- beer, The
good news is while five guys crash one
half awake feller can steer-- Just punch
him into Copenhagen gear, He'll forget
about sheep and count deer. Six roughstock Trekkies on a Galaxy trip, On our starry-
eyed Enterprise, We're doing Warp 8 on LSD--Takin' Long Sagebrush Drives, Talkin'
Long Sagebrush Drives. Six roughstock
winners in a one-horse town, Fort Knox in
a 20-buck room, Rosined-up hot testosterone, Leather and libido perfume--Tip your lid
with its bird-of-prey plume At The
Casanova Cowboy Saloon. Summers of love on
the rodeo trail, Groovin-to-LeDoux-rock-n-rowell, High-octane buckin hoss
cocktails, Jacked up on the Wolfman 's howl--With the yellow-moon-eyed hoot owl, See a
Peckinpah Wild Bunch prowl. Six roughstock rounders orbiting the West, like
nectar bees circling hives, On our sweet-
tooth quest for LSD--
Takin' Long Sagebrush Drives, Talkin' 
Long Sagebrush Drives, When and where
but no whys, On our Cowpoke Cosmos highs, 'cross sky-dyed western skies. Takin' Looo...
onnnggg...Sagebrush...Dri-i-ives..
(applause)
