Lyrics:
hope that it hides until I die
I love where I roam, Walt Whitman guide me home
Oh, Walt Whitman guide me home
Or could it be that our generation's
from the sky
Sweet memories cloud up my eye
Like the night we fell, the day we wed
Remember what Walt Whitman said:
We were together
We carried the same
again
I'm going to get through Walt Whitman
I'm going to be in bed by ten
The Roller Girls are rolling and the rocking boys are rocking
Am I just
Lawyer
Embraces scruffed corpse of Walt Whitman
Oswald Defense Lawyer
Embraces the scruffed corpse of Mark Twain
Decent lawyer fishes in buckskin hat
across the street
Walt Whitman sounds right to me
It ends with a question mark
Read between the lines
Crossword puzzle
When the answer finally comes to us
over my fellow passengers
At the window,
Where I saw a blue quilt of clouds
Many thousand feet below.
And I began to imagine
That my hero, Walt Whitman
meaning to the word Freedom.
Walt Whitman, a young newspaperman destined to become America's
greatest poet wrote : "Future years will never know
left us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Uptempo, frenzied heels
Rave on, Walt Whitman, nose down in wet
us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Up tempo, frenzied heels
Rave on, Walt Whitman, nose down in wet grass
Rave
the homeless lad, I'm the orphan child, leaves of grass sewn through my hair
Yeah, me and old Walt Whitman, we're the men from god knows where
I've rode
Walt Whitman was a hippie
Said that nothing could be lost
If I only was a half that wise
I wouldn't be walking to get sauced whisky
Now Mozart was
Rogers roast beef sandwich!
Thomas Edison!
Grover Cleveland!
John Fenwick!
Joyce Kilmer!
Clara Barton!
Vince Lombardi!
Walt Whitman
And as well as I could recall
Or my seaman buddy could recollect
The girl had told us that she was a niece of Walt Whitman
But not which niece
And it takes
Well, the deranged midnight stalker says it
Garcia Lorca says it
The hit man, Walt Whitman
And the halitotic talker
Babe, I'm on fire
Yeah, babe, I'm
Well, the deranged midnight stalker says it
Garcia Lorca says it
The hit man, Walt Whitman
And the halitotic talker
Babe, I'm on fire
Yeah, babe, I'm
a millian bucks
Down every ave for like a zillion blocks
Blowin out
With my nappy hoods down fulton
Blessin guess style limpin past the walt whitman
Steelo's
wallet containing five dollars
in confederate money and nine newspaper clippings
that there is walt whitman's pen
it sat in his hand and drank ink
I talk like it hurts to talk, mascot of Murphy's Law
From the claw game at the Walt Whitman mall
To the worst curb cuts of the urban sprawl
Make sure that you're prepared for when the pendulum swings
I'm like E.E. Cummings, Walt Whitman
It's hitting and I always keep a written in the vault
home
I come from the land of Ben Franklin
Twain and Poe and Walt Whitman
Otis Redding, Ellington,
The country that I love
But it's a land
Vietnam
Killed children and mainlined
Swore allegiance and swore, and still hate Puerto Ricans
Ecology, cosmology
Walt Whitman's white beard,
of Myself, by Walt Whitman. The poem was first published by Whitman in 1855 as part of the book Leaves of Grass.
Light it up like the city at night
Old dark bones in the city
Old Walt Whitman and borrowed alcohol
We drove fast shaking all the way
Like the waves
homework
But I was in class,
'Til I started skipping
Young Walt Whitman
Young Bruce Wayne
Young Walt Disney
I don't really like it when you dumb-talk to me
I
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