A few lyrics from

SHE RIDES A HARLEY DAVIDSON

by Neil Young

Somewhere on a desert highway
She rides a Harley-Davidson
Her long blonde hair
Flyin’ in the wind

She’s been runnin’ half her life
The chrome and steel she rides
Collidin’ with the very air that she breathes
The air that she breathes

THIS OLD GUITAR

NEIL YOUNG

This old guitar ain’t mine to keep
Just taking care of it now
It’s been around for years and years
Just waiting in its old case
It’s been up and down the country roads
It’s brought a tear and a smile
It’s seen its share of dreams and hopes
And never went out of style
The more I play it, the better it sounds
It cries when I leave it alone
Silently it waits for me
Or someone else I suppose

PICK UP TRUCK

(Partial Lyrics)

Shane Yellowbird

me and my old pickup truck

these days we dont pick up much

but i know in a while we’ll be driving in style

crawling on out of this truck

i’m sure we’ll be rolling again someday soon

somewhere around the bend

i know we’ll have better luck – me and my pickup truck

just a couple of fix ‘er ups in my pickup truck

I construct my memories with my present. I am lost, abandoned in the present. I try in vain to rejoin the past: I cannot escape

Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980), French novelist, dramatist, philosopher, political activist.

What armies and how much of war I have seen, what thousands of marching troops, what fields of slain, what prisons, what hospitals, what ruins, what cities in ashes, what hunger and nakedness, what orphanages, what widowhood, what wrongs and what vengeance

 
Clara Barton (1821–1912), U.S. Civil War nurse and founder of the American Red Cross. As quoted in Angel of the Battlefield, ch. 20, by Ishbel Ross (1956).

The first in time and the first in importance of the influences upon the mind is that of nature. Every day, the sun; and after sunset, night and her stars. Ever the winds blow; ever the grass grows.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882), U.S. essayist, poet, philosopher. Oration, August 31, 1837, delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, Cambridge, Massachusetts. “The American Scholar,” repr. In Emerson: Essays and Lectures, ed. Joel Porte (1983).

Ridin’ The Rails
(LYRICS BY K.D. LANG)

Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo

Hobo is my game
B & O’s my middle name
I’m goin’ where that whistle wails
And that’s why I’m ridin’ the rails

Hoboken, New York, PA
60 seconds is all I’ll stay
Keeps me outta county jails
And that’s why I’m ridin’ the rails

Oh, leave Kentucky
Or the fields of Alabam’
Roomin’ with a box of nails
Or peanuts and yams
Lyrics www.allthelyrics.com/lyrics/kd_lang/

Got no next of kin
And there’s no one in my will
Only thing I’m scared of
Is standin’ still

I’ll ride ’til I’m dead
Boxcar’s my only bed
That’s home when all else fails
That’s why I’m ridin’ the rails

Brushfire Billy
And his buddies, Ned and Slim
Nine years back in provo
Was the last I saw of him

Brakeman, leave me be
Let this hobo rest his bones
Sleep will overtake me
When that diesel moans

That country’s long and wide
The Santa Fe’s my bride
I’ll hop her when she sails
That’s why I’m ridin’ the rails

I’m ridin’
I’m slidin’
I won’t last too long
Got a bandana and a whistle for a song

There ain’t no wheels on the floor of a jail
That’s why I’m ridin’ the rails

Woo woo woo
That’s why I’m ridin’ the rails
woo woo woo
That’s why I’m ridin’ the rails
woo woo woo
That’s why I’m ridin’ the rails
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woooooooooooo

Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
Until she cam to the miller’s dam.

Oxford Book of English Verse – Author Uknown