Don't suppose anybody sells encyclopedias or vacuum cleaners door to door anymore. Me? I peddle love. I do it where and when I can. My schtick is so corny, so very hokey, that I set myself up for ridicule. That's okay.
Nobody's ever gonna accuse me of doing it for the money. Ego? I don't tell jokes because I can't remember them. I can't sing on key and I play guitar like I did in the sixth grade. I play piano and mandolin worse.
Today I'm preaching on the radio. Wednesday, on stage somewhere.
Sometimes I play dark songs. Sad ones. It's hard to stop me from complaining about love gone wrong, too. My message, though, and I do have one, is this:
Nothing matters but love.