Kerrville, O My Kerrville

Rich Krueger
Rich Krueger


There must be a thousand tents in this makeshift east Texas city.

Pitched among the wooded hills, the campfires light the night.

And around each one, jaundiced writers wear guitars

The way Christ would have born a cross, if he'd had a lot more pride.

And me, I'm just looking for some water and some shade

A half-baked cabellero

What brought me to this strange ranchero.

Let's be honest

I want to be famous

Extremely famous

Let my hair grow long

And stand naked in the sun

My chest will shine like a shield

I'll be a temple to myself

Every women's desire

Even more desired

Than I'm admired

And the men

Respect and fear me

Want my phone number

Want to get to know me

And become intimate as friends

And have a body just like mine

All glistening and wet

Like overripe fruit

Hey, look mom, I'm a vision

Wait, wait, wait,

Someone here actually thought of talking through this song

I shoot a piercing glance and he bursts into flames

And the audience cheers as they hang on my every word

Hey, I've got to come back here next year

Let's be honest

I look great

I feel great

So tall and fine

I tower over all the trees

This back to nature stuff can just really clear your head

And they're speaking in tongues

And they're shouting my name along with names of the greats

Like Bob Dylan And Woody Guthrie

And John Prine and Tom Waits

And Jacques Brel ...then there's a long list that follows

And Martin Luther

And Saint Augustine

And Ghengus Khan

And Moses

And Christ, I don't know where my tent is

And it looks like it's gonna rain

Why did I bring all this shit from the city

Just to have a flood wash it away

I'll probably sun stroke in the morning

After not having slept all night

But that guy who's playing

His song is amazing

Maybe it in't gonna pour

Maybe, just maybe,

This place is alright.