Everyone need's a man in their life

And mine right now just happens to be Ramblin' Jack Elliot. I can sit here and sing 912 Greens to myself and I'm right there on Hwy 1, in the fog, heading back to Kirk Creek, where Jerry's chasin' around a naked women wrapped in seaweed, and Pete's threatening to throw the keg off the cliff so we can drink it on the beach. And twenty torches moving down the cliffside in the dark, the fog so thick they look like giant fire flies. MT stumblin' into Pete's tent and messin' up the action, Matt Reed climbing up the redwood tree for a photo behind the Henry Miller Library. Sloppy Joes and thick red wine, everyone wrapped up in blankets waitin' to hear Ramblin' Jack. Keith and Mandy laughin and maybe even Henry was there, was he? Spears gettin' pissed off at me for droppin all the wrong lines. Poker on that green cot all day long. All I know is that was a trip of all trips, and I when I'm stuck in Loja sick of eating quimbolitos, I close my eyes and hum a tune by Ramblin' Jack and think about those magical three days in Big Sur. Another another day with the Dudes from Gilas. Another day with all you.