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Chorus:
It's the call of the wild.
It's the call of the road.
It's the gravelly voice of asphalt.
It's the wind in my hair.
It's the spring in my step.
It's the old Left Coast Gestalt.

I always knew I'd be a tired old man,
with a flock of pink flamingos stuck in my sand,
saving falling stars by the bed in a can,
tryin' to conjure up a little magic.
I've lived in the mountains, where the snow fell in pounds.
The smart money hibernated deep underground,
waitin' for the equinox to come around,
tryin' to conjure up a little magic.

chorus

Even the ghosts have abandoned the ghost town;
the old haunted house sits empty.
It's all nostalgia and anticipation.
It's all temporary.

chorus

I always knew I'd be a tired old man,
with naugahyde skin, leathery and tan,
at home in my gypsy desert caravan,
tryin' to conjure up a little magic.
I come from a much more hospitable land,
where the people listen, where they give a damn.
Who I was is who I am,
tryin' to conjure up a little magic.

chorus

Even the ghosts have abandoned the ghost town;
the old haunted house sits empty.
It's all nostalgia and anticipation.
It's all temporary.

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Replies to This Discussion

I like this very much. Definitely conjures up the sixties and some of the folkies I knew back when. Would love to hear the music!
Hi George,

And thanks.

I have a demo posted at my ...um ... my profile page here?
Tell me it's not sung to
"Eye of the Tiger"!
No, no, a thousand times ... well ... no...

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