I've got a mess of blues on my mind
And at least a million miles behind me
And all that I've got between me
Lake Michigan, the wind sure is cold
And I need me a jacket for my shoulder
I can get one at the surplus store
With my wrinkled, crinkled,
For I'm not bound and I never will
Be to a wrinkled, crinkled,
It sure smells good outside the bakery
And I stand and let the smell flood over me
With my wrinkled, crinkled,
Transients are welcome, says the sign
One half gets the room, the other the wine
with my wrinkled, crinkled,
For I'm not bound, and I never will,
Lake Michigan waves hit the beach
There they break and wash across my feet
As I throw it just as far as I can
My wrinkled, crinkled, wadded dollar bill
For I'm not bound and I never will
See to a wrinkled, crinkled,
For I'm not bound, and I never will
