Everything I Wrote About Wasn't About Me,

The Gateway To Freedom...was Somewhere Close To New Orleans Where Most Africans Were Sorted Through And Sold. I Had Driven Through New Orleans On Tour And I'd Been Told My Great Grandfather Had Lived Way Back Up In The Woods Among The Evergreens In A Log Cabin. I Revived The Era With A Song About A Coloured Boy Named Johnny B. Goode. My First Thought Was To Make His Life Follow As My Own Had Come Along, But I Thought It Would Seem Biased To White Fans To Say 'coloured Boy' And Changed It To 'country Boy'.

Up Come A Flat Top, He Was Movin' Up With Me.

Looking Hard For A Drive In, Searching For A Corner Cafe, Where The Hamburgers Sizzle On An Open Grill Night And Day.

I Think I See Her, Please Let Me Off This Bus. Nadine, Honey, Is That You?

Back In The Class Room, Open Your Books, Keep Up, The Teacher Don't Know How Mean She Looks.