Hey Jack Kerouac, I think of your mother and the tears she cried, she 
cried for none other than her little boy lost in our little world that 
hated and that dared to drag him down. Her little boy courageous who 
chose 
his words from mouths of babes got lost in the wood. The hip flask 
slinging 
madman, steaming cafe flirts, they all spoke through you. 
Hey Jack, now for the tricky part, when you were the brightest star 
who were the shadows? Of the San Francisco beat boys you were the 
favorite. Now they sit and rattle their bones and think of their blood 
stoned days. You chose your words from mouths of babes got lost in the 
wood. The hip flask slinging madman, steaming cafe flirts, in 
Chinatown 
howling at night. 
Allen baby, why so jaded? Have the boys all grown up and their beauty 
faded? Billy, what a saint they've made you, you're just like Mary 
down in Mexico 
on All Souls' Day. 
Chose his words from mouths of babes got lost in the wood. Cool 
junk bootin