So you packed your world up inside a canvas sack, set off down the highway with your rings and Kerouac.
AL STEWARTAnd peer down the highway from here to eternity and reach out for love on the run.
More Al Stewart Quotes
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Jimi Hendrix played loud and free, Sergeant Pepper was real to me.
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most of the rest of it is about image or the beat or the sound, or else it’s a tribal thing.
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You gave him a license to steal.
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Movie queens diffuse into Cinema haze, while libertines read pornozines in street cafes.
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The literati in their cellarsPerform semantic tarantellas.I wish I did it half as well as them.
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Of all the girls I ever knew some loved and some denied me And all the words I ever said have been no use to hide me.
AL STEWART -
Someone said they saw you in Nepal a long time back. Tell me why you look away, don’t you have a word to say?
AL STEWART -
Country & western, rap, heavy metal, with historical folk rock off in some kind of cult.
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I know there’s a big bad world out there, but I rarely come across it.
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She comes out of the sun in a silk dress, running like a water color in the rain.
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And peer down the highway from here to eternity and reach out for love on the run.
AL STEWART -
Only two to three per cent of an audience is interested in words and pays attention to lyrics.
AL STEWART -
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre, contemplating a crime. She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolor in the rain.
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Whoever you pretend to be, you must face yourself eventually.
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Do you remember the church across the sands? You stood outside and planned to travel the lands, where the pilgrims go.
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The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming.
AL STEWART -
Louis Armstrong playing trumpet on the Judgment Day.
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Looking so cool, his greed is hard to conceal, he’s fresh out of law school.
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Look to the past and remember no empire rises that sooner or later won’t fall.
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She doesn’t give you time for questions as she locks up your arms in hers. And you follow till your sense of direction completely disappears.
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There’s room in the world for one historical folk-rock singer to make a decent living, and I happen to be it.
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And all the songs I ever sung each one of them untied me And all the girls I ever loved have left themselves inside me.
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Don’t bother asking for explanations, she’ll just tell you that she came in the year of the cat.
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You reach out your hand, but you’re all alone, in those time passages.
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Nothing that’s forced can ever be right, if it doesn’t come naturally, leave it.
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On a morning from a Bogart movie, in a country where they turn back time.
AL STEWART