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
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
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