The Persecution and Restoration of Dean Moriarty (On The Road)
by Rex Fowler
Well I can’t understand what is wrong with the man Don’t he know how he’s acting is long ago banned Don’t you think it’s a shame, someone tell me his name If we let him continue things may get out of hand…
Look at him laughing and carrying on Like a hydrogen manic or an organic bomb He’s alive like a child, so terribly wild He has way too much freedom so of course he is wrong, he’s wrong yeah
He was born on the road in the month of July And he’ll live on the road ‘til he sees fit to die ‘Cause he learned on the road how humanity cries, How society lies, he sees with more than his eyes
Look at him running don’t he know how to walk He’s just too damned cunning you can tell by his talk You can tell he is rude, like a typical dude If you want my opinion he belongs under lock…
One look in his eyes and you know he’s unsound There’s no way to faze him he’s nobody’s clown He’s as deep as the sea and he’s equally free That’s why I fear him and hate him and wish he were down, was down yeah
Whether riding the rails out of Denver Or bumming his friends’ cigarettes He’s asking them all to remember Making sure that they’ll never forget
So you’re curious ‘bout this man who I speak ‘Cause he tears you and scares you out of your sleep I am sure that you’ll find, if you open your mind That it’s you and not he who is really the freak…
So relax for a moment as you would for your hobby His beauty abounds in his mind and his body He’s like the setting sun’s hues, or the dust on his shoes He’s living he’s naughty, he’s Dean Moriarty, yeah