Kerouac, yeah, Kerouac   His words, the words, so many words just   All brothers of the same horn   Sisters of the saxophone      Notes, music, words, a melody   A quote, a figure eight, a figure   If you listen close to the drummer   It's like a mirror and you're invisible      Like you're in a back seat   No handles on the doors   Just a beautiful driver up front   She knows where she's going      Kerouac, the observation machine   Caressing the most passing of scenes   With photographic love   Passionate photographic love      Vulnerable as anyone knew   His memories pull shades up and down   Doors are not done, telegrams arrive   Every morning, something extra [Incomprehensible]      Remembering everything   Like a snatch of melody   A drumbeat remembering, mythologizing   So fast, all the time moving      The words, the words are drumsticks   Pounding out drum beats   Like a monk, like a monk, melody   With mistakes, yeah, mistakes and sudden inspirations      Edges, corners, explosions, convections   All fast through a slow motion landscape   Yeah, fast through a slow motion landscape