The late 1970s is often seen as a time of punk with the rebels like the Sex Pistols and the Clash but none of them were a patch on me, i spent the '60s going in and out of jail, sometimes as a performer and sometimes as a felon sleeping off my misdemeanors in a cell. I was a true American outlaw, angrily rejecting authority while loving my country, except for the parts when i was actively burning it all to the ground.
I was driving my truck through a Forest one day when my truck overheated and set the whole thing ablaze and i did what what any responsible motorist would do and abandoned it and went fishing.
508 acres of land burnt down that day, you could say i left a burning ring of fire and refused to go down down down as the flames went higher and that pisses all over wrecking a hotel room or lobbing a TV out the window.
My drinks and drug habit was expensive but there comes a point where you're making more money than your drug habit can spend and i used it to buy an exotic bird sanctuary but got into an argument with my Ostrich and attacked it with a tree branch but i swung and missed, of course i did, i was high and pissed remember, and the ostrich responded by ripping open my stomach with it's talons.
By the mid 60's i made the album Bitter Tears, a protest album about the plight of Native Americans saying i was proud of my Cherokee Blood although technically, most of my blood was amphetamine and the actual amount of Native American blood in me was precisely zero but the higher i got the more Indian blood I thought I had in me and i was so blitzed off my tits i could have been Hiawatha.
The KKK also tried to kidnap me but i'm almost out of space here so let's leave it there and anyway, i smell burning.
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