There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.
Henry Ward Beecher
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Iceman
Sleepy town ain’t got the guts to budge
Baby, this emptiness has already been judged
I wanna go out tonight, I wanna find out what I got
You’re a strange part of me, you’re a preacher’s girl
And I don’t want no piece of this mechanical world
Got my arms open wide and my blood is runnin’ hot
We’ll take the midnight road right to the devil’s door
And even the white angels of eden with their flamin’ swords
Won’t be able to stop us from hittin’ town in this dirty old ford
Well it don’t take no nerve when you got nothin to guard
I got tombstones in my eyes and I’m runnin’ real hard
My baby was a lover and the world just blew her away
Once they tried to steal my heart, beat it right outta my head
But baby they didn’t know that I was born dead
I am the iceman, fightin’ for the right to live
I say better than the glory roads of heaven, better off ridin’
Hellbound in the dirt, better than the bright lines of the freeway
Better than the shadows of your daddy’s church
Better than the waiting, baby better off is the search