Writin’ book two by the light of the moon

Always graspin’ for minutes

While in the car or rinsin’ dishes

The characters don’t care if the keyboard ain’t near

They burn with emotion

They fight and love without stoppin’

In my head, in my bed

So I carry a voice recorder, like a pistol in a holster

Barkeep gimme a drink

I’m back in the saddle again

I write until the risin’ sun

I’m callin’ all the shots tonight

I’m like a loaded gun

Fillin’ in my outline

I’m saddle sore

I scream for more

But the kids’r wantin’ dinner

Deadlines at work are never nearin’

My tobacca needs rollin’ (’cause it doesn’t roll itself…well, actually Trader Jacks has these fancy rolling machines…)

Where was I? Oh yeah…

I’m back in the saddle again

Bills come, laundry goes

But a storyteller’s mind never slows

Amid the melee, the chapters flow

Recorder in high ready, I squeeze the trigger

I’m recordin’, I’m loadin’ up my pistol

I’m writin’, I really got a fistful

I’m polishin’, I’m shinin’ up my saddle

I’m rewritin’, this snake is gonna rattle

I’m back in the saddle again

Dedicated to Aerosmith and naked saddle man. Thank you for the inspiration (or the distraction, as it was).

Back In The Saddle