Thursday, July 22, 2010

These old paper sheets are my pile of money, I run my thumb over them just like you do your bank notes there.

I'm my own bank and I'm my own boss,

I ain't never out of work,

My eye ain't never batting.

My hand always feels oily and my fingers always itchy,

Twenty-four hours every day I send mself out and around to run hook lines.

I write what I see,

I write what I've seen,

I write things I just hope to see

Somewhere farther along.

Woody Guthrie
April 4, 1948
Newark, New Jersey
On the low end of
High Street

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