My most recent song, Nice to Be Wanted, offers a message that will surely resonate with friends of markets, however. Follow that link if you want the chords and other tips on how to play it. (Be forewarned: To nail the song's Country and Western style, you'll need to get your twang on.) Here are the lyrics:
Nice to Be Wanted
You prob'ly think I live a boring life.
I pay my bills. I love my kids and wife.
But you can bet I've got an outlaw side.
Listen up! I'll tell ya' how I ride.
For example, just the other day,
I turned right on a red—without stoppin' all the way!
Then I hit 38, drivin' back home,
Through a 35 miles-per-hour zone!
It's real nice to be wanted, by a purty little lady.
It's real nice to be wanted, by your lovin' ma and pa.
It's real nice to be wanted, by the folks who sign your paycheck.
But it's not nice to be wanted, when you're wanted by the law.
But you know, I'm not the only one.
Some folks smoke and drink, before 21!
'N I heard tell, some guy in Oregon,
Pumped his own gas, at the fillin' station.
A charmin' lady down New Orleans' way,
Dared to sell an unlicensed bouquet.
Her local florists don't like competi-shun.
They play monopoly—but not for fun!
We can't help it if we break some rules.
Politicians, and their fools,
Have rolled out red tape by the ton,
So they can keep us on the run!
The doggonned law.
The confounded law.
The nit-pickin', lousy, frickin, 'noveau-Prussian, freedom-crushin', law.
As always, I've taken care to nail down the legal citations. The reference to Oregon concerns a statute (O.R.S. section 480.330) that forbids retail gasoline customers from pumping their own fuel. (New Jersey imposes a similar restriction, but does not admit the same easy rhyme.) The Louisiana florist's sad tale also proves all too true, as the Institute for Justice, champions for the would-be florist's rights, can tell you.
[Crossposted at Agoraphilia and Technology Liberation Front.]