so rock me mama like a wagon wheel

rock me mama any way you feel

hey mama rock me

rock me mama like the wind and the rain

rock me mama like a southbound train

hey mama rock me

running from the cold up in new england

i was born to be a fiddler in an old time string band

my baby plays the guitar

i pick the banjo now

so rock me mama like a wagon wheel

rock me mama any way you feel

hey mama rock me

rock me mama like the wind and the rain

rock me mama like a southbound train

hey mama rock me

i'm so through. i've had to deal with blow after blow. i don't fucking know what to do.

Another reason why I don't want to grow old is that the enormous task of knowing a lover becomes even harder to accomplish. He will have more blank spots in his life, more mysterious scars, more "friends." We can only truly love somebody when we understand them, or maybe understanding is love. I'm not certain that I'll be able to fool myself later in my life. 

Anyways I'm watching Sex and the City and wishing for serenity. I can't write for the life of me. What happened to summers in parks, smiling through the sunshine? I want mountains to stream in through my pupils.