Nothing but a boulder-man now, that's me. I've become a rock in the road I used to travel. Pry and roll me, young vagabonds--tip me over the side. I'll smash some brush or hit a tree--hell, maybe bang into the red-rusted chassis of a '54 Ford, all covered over with weeds. And you if young may think, Wow, cool--that sound!
It's just me, boulder-man, me and gravity--one dance before last call, tumble-tumble: one dance.