A song for Gram

Hey you,
roadie pilgrim that follows that star in the western skies
Don´t forget it´s shining more brightly at the cold dawn
Keep your attention, just that moment, when the sun arise
Can you hear that voice singing above Mojave sands?

"Warm evenings, pale mornings with a bottle of blues"
Fine and mellow, shakes softly your stoned heart
And a million of Nudie rhinestones claim your dues
on each and every little drop of American dew.

Take care to manage that “deadly Denver bend”,
Although “we all got wheels to take ourselves away”
But your hands must be firm and your eyes open wide,
Farther along from Boulder it´s placed Cheyenne.

Me and not heading west “to grow up with the country”
So faraway over that deep blue Atlantic sea,
Where “truckers, kickers and cowboy angels”
Only could be found high on whiskey daydreams

But some sleepless nights when the sky is clear
My burning throat spread impossible tunes,
Flowing to the west, across the eternal Milky Way
Riding diligent on chords, sounding just for you