Classic pop rock, Medium tempo, positive, singer songwriter, retro, vintage, 1970s, 70's, warm, friendly, Male vocals, electric guitar, bass, drums, piano, acoustic guitar
On a Sunday Drive
On a smokin' side
On a clever word for every situation
I wanna write a book
My friends can take a look
That's to say if I ever get it together
I know before I die
I'm gonna make it in my prime
I wanna welcome party waiting at the station
If it's lonely at the end with
Theives and fairweather friends
I'll be happy just to talk about the weather
When they put me in the ground
I want all my friends around
They can sit and tell their stories about the old days
And if one is overlooked
Take my records and my books
Make him fill the empty space between
The things they cannot say
So don't use the same old words
Or say something I've never heard
Or talk to me just because
Use the sleeves of our sweaters
To mop up our faces
Send cards to our bothers and distant relations
My blood is in names that've barely seen places
and I don't think they're gonna make it through