Here are the lyrics to my latest song. I wrote most of it a couple months ago, but I wasn’t particularly pleased with it until this morning, when I finally got around to dickering with the words again.

My daddy was a drunkard but I didn’t write about him in my song

I claimed he was a cousin whose whereabouts are currently unknown

And the writer in my novel was descended from a friend who played guitar

I haven’t seen him lately but maybe he’s become a big rock star

 

But it’s not me

It’s only fiction

It’s not me

It’s someone else

It’s not me

I’m just a writer

I’m as boring as a buzzard circling o’er the pits of hell

 

I wrote about a singer who traveled with the cops in hot pursuit

His major sign of weakness was a taste for all forbidden fruit

While he was smoking pot in Hyden I was typing in my den

Trying to find a way to get old Riley out of harm’s way again

 

There’s a football coach in Caroline who taught me half of everything I know

But I never was a hero in the tension-charged events of long ago

I just did enough and saw enough to dream myself a tale

With memories and fancy mixing in and out along my sliding scale

 

CHORUS

 

In conclusion please don’t blame me for playing fast and loose with the facts

What separates the fiction is the truth that slips through cracks

With my guitar at the ready and a website on my screen

I can take take my flights of fancy in my imaginary writing machine

 

CHORUS

If you’d like a signed copy of either or both my novels, The Audacity of Dope and The Intangibles, visit “Merchandise” at the montedutton.com website, send me a check, and I’ll ship promptly.