A Pocket Full Of Time by Tennessee Wayne

Listen here, you glass-eyed bopper, the rhythm is right where it needs to be. Got a pocket full of time and a guitar that hums like a june bug in a milk pail. I’m as steady as a fence post in high wind, just cracklin' bright. The whole damn sky is a neon sun floatin' through the grass. Sat down in the corner booth at the Watering Hole, brushed the sawdust off my boots, And hung out with the local lads over a cold draft. Told 'em the moon was leakin' through the floorboards. Old Jim looked up, took a sip, and said: "You’re just playin' too sharp, Wayne, your neck's too long for the weather!" The weather? The weather's just a warm thrill on a heavy paw, Meltin' down the wall, a deep-dish, drip-dry blues, Yeah, yeah, yeah! Keep on pickin', boys. There he goes with his sister Lucy, A couple of dapper little beetles, Doin' the twist in the sawdust. Woo!