Well good morning how your doing honey I've got to tell you I never met a girl so funny yeah Hmmm, I wish it wasn't a one night stand You know your a quiet a girl, you sure are pretty With just you in it this is one fine city yeah Hmm, I wish it wasn't a one night stand But I've got to be in Buffalo by 8'o clock tonight, playing in some two bit dive Selling little bits of my soul for 80 bucks a weeks, Eh hell it keeps the rest of me alive But I sure like to stay and get to know you better I'd say I would write but you'd never get a letter yeah Hmm I wish it wasn't a one night stand Hey why don't you take off work and let's go for a ride Some place special just for us We could take along a picnic and find a place to hide Yeah I know I've got to catch a bus, well it's sure been nice I might even miss you Hey what's your name come here I'm gonna kiss you Yeah hmm I wish it wasn't a one night stand.

Another friday night Guess I'll put a clean shirt on and hitch a ride to town No more work for two whole days, there's no point hangin' around Working on the road I sweat and ache And cuss the pain but it sure does pass the time Two days free and all I see other same old walls to climb Guess I could fall by Moroe's bar and maybe borrow Jacks guitar And find a girl to sing to, Lord knows she's what I'm longing Eh, who am I kidding she can't be, the sort of girl who'll wait for me And Sunday races in the kinda places I belong in But I hold on to my dreams anyway I'll never let them die they keep me going through the bad times While I dream of the good times coming by Ten years out from home I joined the circus worked the fields But I've never saved a dime Never stayed in one place long 'less I was doin' time Looking for my life I thought I found it once or twice but it turned out I was wrong Heard the music and learned the dance to someone else's song I've had men tell me be content to spend your life for food and rent and Give up trying they say life's a dying jailer I just tell them I'd do alright still it's rough on Friday night But there is time for thinking I spend it drinking up my failure But I hold on to my dreams anyway I'll never let them die they keep me going through the bad times While I dream of the good times coming by

I've been North and East and South. Which one is the best? I found people are the same all over. But the sun shines in the west. I warn ya, I'm coming back to California. Lend me a shack and I'll perform ya. All kinds of happy songs to ease your pain. Think of all we'll gain. We'll be sunny until it starts to rain. Let me inform ya, I'm coming home to California. Concrete and chromium adorn ya. Land of McDonalds' and the Ice Capades. Think of all the blonde braids. We'll all be happy behind the rose coloured shades. They say it's the way of the future. Ah, but the future is looking grim. 'Cause when the oil meets the Red Woods Then the sun grows dim. Then I can warn ya Were all gonna live in California! Wherever we live it's California! Where the road to tomorrow is a dead end doubt If we won't change the route. Let's all be happy Until the sun goes out.

I went out to Montana With a bibble on my arm, Looking for my fathers On a long-abandoned farm, And I found what I came looking for. I drove into a churchyard Of what used to be the town; Walked along a cowpath Trough the fences falling down, 'Til I found what I came looking for. Through the dust of summer noons, Over grass long dying, To read the stone and lumber runes Where my past was lying. High among hillsides and windmill bones, Soft among oak trees and chimney stones, Blew the wind that I came looking for. And the wind blew over the dry land, And dusted my city soul clean, To read in my great-grandfather's hand From his bible newly seen: Born James McKennon, 1862 Married Leantha, 1884 Two sons born in Montana, Praise the Lord! The gentle wind Of passing time, Closed the bible pages; And took my hand And had me climb Closer to the ages. The picket fence, the lattice frame, The garden gone to seed, Leantha with the fragile name, Defying place and need, Declares this bit of prairie "tame", And sees her fingers bleed, And knows her sons won't live the same, But she must live her creed. The fallen barn, the broken plow, The hoofprint-hardened clay; Where is the farmer, now, Who built his dream this way? Who felled the tree and cut the bough And made the land obey, Who taught his sons as he knew how, But could not make them stay. Who watched until the darkness fell To know the boys were gone, and never loved the land so well From that day on. "Father James," they wrote him, Each a letter once a year, Words of change that broke him With the new age that was here, And the new world they'd gone looking for. The clouds arose Like phantom herds, And by the dappled lighting I read again The last few words In a woman's writing: March 1st, 1921 Last night, Papa died. Left one plow, a horse, his gun, His bible, and his bride. The long grass moved beside me In the gentle summer rain, And made a path to guide me To a sudden mound of grain. A man and wife are buried there, Children to the land; With young green tendrils in her hair, And seedlings in his hand. I went out to Montana With a bibble on my arm, Looking for my fathers On a long-abandoned farm, And I found what I came looking for.

Every time you fall in love That's the best time of all. It's holding sunlight in your hand, It's heaven come to call; And you wonder: will it last forever? And you try to keep tomorrow locked away, 'Cause tomorrow is forever And love's enough for anyone today. Every time you fall in love, That's the only time it's real; And that girl is the only girl Who shares the way you feel. And you wonder how you've lived without her, And you tell yourself she'll never go away, 'Cause without her there's no living. And love's enough for anyone today. Love's enough to find your heart and lose it To see the doubt and choose it over knowing how or when; Love's enough to know if she'd refuse it, You'd take what's left and try your luck again. 'Cause every time you fall in love That's the one and only time. It's living through the final verse Of a one and lonely rhyme. 'Cause you know this one will last forever, And you turn and watch tomorrow drift away, 'Cause tomorrow is forever And love's enough for anyone today.

Mrs. Molly Jenkins sells her wares in town Saturdays, in the evening, when the farmhands come around And she sows all their names in her gown Ah, but is she happy? No no no She wants a better home and a better kind of life But how is she going to get the things she wants, The things she needs as some poor wretch of a farmer's wife He trades the milk for booze And Molly wants new shoes And as she snuggles down With a stranger in some back of the barroom bed It's much too dark to the see the stranger So she thinks of shoes instead Old Man Horace Jenkins stays at home to tend to his schemes Sends for pictures of black stockings on paper legs with paper seams and he drinks Until he drowns in his dreams Ah, but is he happy? No, no, no He wants to be reborn to lead the pious life But how's he going to going shed his boozy dreams when he has to bear the cross of A wicked wife She claims to visit shows And he pretends that's where she goes And as he snuggles down to his reading in a half-filled marriage bed He's so ashamed of what he's reading that he gets blind-drunk instead Sunday breakfast with the Jenkins They break the bread and cannot speak She reads the rustling of his paper He reads the way her new shoes squeak And pray God to survive one more week Ah, but are they happy? You'd be surprised... between the bed and the booze and the shoes They suffer least who suffer what they choose