Dharma Bums Music by Kurt Elling, Corey Fonville, DJ Harrison and Charlie Hunter
Lyric by Kurt Elling



Come on! I've got a wandering feeling that it's time for moving on.
The arms upon the clock that's on the wall are telling me that I've been standing still for much too long.
A picture's always blank before it's drawn. The night is darkest just before the dawn.
So you bring your tender brains & I can provide the brawn.

Come On! I've got a vintage Ford Falcon that is hungry for the road.
The chromium is polished in the knowledge that we're headed for an altogether distant postal code.
Might I suggest that on the way find the mystic motherlode.
Maybe we can find our just deserts & grab em à la mode !


Cause when the night falls & stars shed their sparkler dims & don't you know that God is Pooh-Bear
holding out his honeyed paws to both of us from way out there?
And when the spirit calls
and both of us are filled up to the over-brim in that mescal & sage flavored air,
Then you'll know that you are Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise is me!


Come on! We'll ball that jack straight until we reach the end of land and wash the miles off diving in the sea
Two holy goofs having a good time & sodden on a aubergine toboggan, smoking constantly.
You never know just what there is to find until you start looking,
You never know just what you're gonna dine on until you start cooking, yeah!


And when the morning strolls and the great unrolling scroll of our lives imbibes and inscribes our
heroic drives on the parchment of eternal vibes, we two holy-empty bowls with our ever-burning baby
ember soul-coals they watch & behold as we patrol down the fold in the rolls in the future-Buddha
foretold mold, where bodhisattva whisper the Bodhi-being code and we find out path to the sold-out
hold-out motherlode of what can never be eroded! (Don't say I never told it!)

Now, you don't actually have to leave home to get the job done,
but I promise you it can sure be a lot more fun!

Two on the road is always better than one, son.

spoken: Now: the thing about what we're after, sometimes it's invisi-bala-tash-is-ness. Sometimes it's
hiding. Not because it wants to. It's not a little afraid of you. Maybe you're a little afraid of you.
Hey:

But you can't always see it, but it's always there.
You might forget to feel it - but then you say, it feels unfair!

But it ain't just disappeared because it's always in the air.
And just because you win't awake it don't mean you ain't aware.

So, listen up! Cause the deepest truths ain't written in no book.
They're all around you all the time, but you use your heart to look.

They may be in a candy bar, maybe in a Baby Ruth,
That brings back the true Madeleine of your long-lost youth.

They may be waiting to be found in the freezing winter brook,
Or in the photograph of a long-lost stare that somehow leaves you shook.

They're in the stories children tell or in an acrid, smokey smell.
They're in a breath when a story's done, or the ringing of a bell.

But they'e always there like math itself or whatever pre-exists.
They'll outlast your every waking doubt cause the truth always persists.

The truth always persists.


spoken: Well, let's see. We have a full tank of gas, a half a pack of cigarettes.
It's dark. And we're wearing sunglasses.

Hit it!