Cry For Freedom

I’ve got a number to my name 

I’ve got a whole lot of letters bursting at the seams

i’m walking like glory, shining from above 

i’m a let loose loser and a walking talking kind of son 

so i’ll wait for the evening 

to get up 

i’ll scream like moses 

at my coffee cup 

just screaming for freedom, a kind of love 

screaming for a light at the door and a secondhanded baseball glove 

i talk too much, about myself

i don’t leave enough room for somebody else on my shelf 

but i just got a busy, burning kind of mind 

i got a runway tickin and a old watch rollin kind

oh conductor, won’t ya save my soul 

would ya lend me a hand, my plow hand’s getting old 

I’m waiting for the doctor, to conduce my pain 

i wish he’d just throw me the bottle and let me on my way 

a cry for freedom, a cry for love