Would you need it so bad you leave one
to sit and stare at you all night?
Would you have your guitar handed to you
as I carry mine in a heavy black case?
Can you carry a tradition of a summer night
sing along and not have it all to yourself?
What a shame,
that such an occasion,
was sold to you and bought by your
soul.
A soul on what they fawn over and
poetry is written about your voice.
Your voice, the songs you play,
I heard it all before, and I heard it enough
to know you as desperate.
Stop making it about you, and
let us shine together all of us in the cool
summer night air.
Slapping every mosquito and sipping
champagne, just share something
for once.