I was standing on a street corner on the outskirts of town
Away from some trouble I’d seen come ‘round
When I saw an old maiden look my way, and
Say “Hey Mr. Moonlight, you’re a long way from LA.”
Now her hair, it fell funny, and she had teeth of gold
She wore on onyx ring she said was centuries old
She said she knew a place, a good place to hide
It’d do me well to see if I could find some time
I said “Name the price,” and she gave me a wink
I said “What does that mean?” and she said “Not what you think.”
I said “I’m not sure,” she said “The price is free,”
“Though you’ll need your wits ’bout you in those thick forest trees.”
I drove up, I climbed, into the mountains high
Searching far and wide for the man they called Clyde
And in a clearing I found him, on top of the earth
Searching for words in the place of his birth
He said “Where you from?” and I said “Far from here.”
He said “What brought you?” and I said “An ol’ gypsy seer.”
He welcomed me in and he spoke of a storm
With a look in his eyes that I’d seen once before
‘Neath three kings we drank a bottle of four rose
Looked up to the sky and made us a toast
“We proclaim these trees the great sacred ground”
“For the Bandits of old and their American sound.”
Yea we drank well, but no storm ever came
Though I felt the feeling of soft, falling rain
And though the night still loomed, I heard a sweet sound
Of a woman’s faint whisper, down the road, way on down
So on the highway we drove ‘neath dark western stars
Though we knew that the Devil was never too far
Still in darkest night I saw a distant day
In the city of freaks, our own glorious LA
Ren Michael 