The Great American Novel

As the sunday sun sets down on Rhino, Nevada I'm not really a gambling man, but I'm quite partial to a flutter And if you're playing Black Jack, they'll let you drink for free And that sounds like a pretty good deal to me... So I pull up to a table and I sing my first line I get chatting to an old man, sat by my side He can't quite place my accent and he asks me where I'm from Like many before he thinks that I'm Australian. I tell him I'm from England, from Essex, to be precise We both lose a couple of hands and sing some more lines He asks me what I'm doing, so far away from home I tell him I've been singing on the road. He asks me where I've been and what I've seen and what I might have learned Travelling on that giant piece of dirt I've seen the rivers and the mountains, the forests through the trees I've seen the deserts and canyons, I've seen the tumble-weed I watched the sunset of the west coast with sand between my toes I've been East freezing my bollocks off in six inches of snow I've seen the interstates and freeways from my rental car Mostly, though, I've seen a lot of bars. I've seen a few music venues and a shitton of bars London got me JFK, Boston, Baltimore To the American Visionary Art Museum down the Appalachian trail To the suburbs of Atlanta and the Gainesville BBQ Where I ended in a karaoke bar doing Jimmy Buffet tunes Left onto the A10(?), the "Big Easy", New Orleans I played a bit of washboard with my main [...] XP I felt like Chris Christopherson, flat out and bet on rouge When they let me sing some songs in the Red Dragon listening room In fact I've been singing songs everywhere I stop Somehow I'm calling this my job I've heard the banjos and the trumpets, been to where the blues was born Danced to dubstep and to punk rock and I shopped in record stores I read the Great American Novel by the Great American Novelist And give me half a chance I'll build myself a white picket fence Cause I love the American culture, its music, books and poetry And the wonderful Americans that I've met on my journey FLASHBACK to the casino and the old man he said: "Son, Sounds like you've seen more of this cuntry than I have ever done. I come from Salt Lake City, that's where I was born and raised; I still live in Utah and I barely left the state. But you still haven't told me what you've learned - Sounds like you're just driving round and getting drunk. And it's not like you're any good at Black Jack, either - You haven't won a dollar since you've been here." I've seen casinos and the churches, the prisons and the shopping malls, The ballparks and the stadiums, the junk-food drive-throughs, The fast cars and the tea bars, the broken traffic lights, The homeless and forgotten folk, Downtown late at night, And I've seen the foreign policy, the oily, bloody hands, I've seen the police brutality sweep across the land And if there's one thing that I've learned It's that a dollar costs more than it's worth I didn't come in here to win - I just came here for a drink.