The Persecution and Restoration of Dean Moriarty (On The Road)

by Rex Fowler

Well I can’t understand what is wrong with the man
Don’t he know how he’s acting is long ago banned
Don’t you think it’s a shame, someone tell me his name
If we let him continue things may get out of hand…

Look at him laughing and carrying on
Like a hydrogen manic or an organic bomb
He’s alive like a child, so terribly wild
He has way too much freedom so of course he is wrong, he’s wrong yeah

He was born on the road in the month of July
And he’ll live on the road ‘til he sees fit to die
‘Cause he learned on the road how humanity cries,
How society lies, he sees with more than his eyes

Look at him running don’t he know how to walk
He’s just too damned cunning you can tell by his talk
You can tell he is rude, like a typical dude
If you want my opinion he belongs under lock…

One look in his eyes and you know he’s unsound
There’s no way to faze him he’s nobody’s clown
He’s as deep as the sea and he’s equally free
That’s why I fear him and hate him and wish he were down, was down yeah

Whether riding the rails out of Denver
Or bumming his friends’ cigarettes
He’s asking them all to remember
Making sure that they’ll never forget

So you’re curious ‘bout this man who I speak
‘Cause he tears you and scares you out of your sleep
I am sure that you’ll find, if you open your mind
That it’s you and not he who is really the freak…

So relax for a moment as you would for your hobby
His beauty abounds in his mind and his body
He’s like the setting sun’s hues, or the dust on his shoes
He’s living he’s naughty, he’s Dean Moriarty, yeah