Sep 2016
Daniel raced some ****** in the year of the monkey
For a brand new set of vintage strings
Beat the ****** real easy, took the vintage guitar
And smiled “hey man it’s just one of these things”
Placed the guitar over his shoulder, like a baby he held her
Closed his eyes and played some chords
With the chords came some lyrics, in the darkness he sat
In the center of Jensen Grand Concert Hall
The ghost on the piano, she preformed a haunting solo
Behind him was a phantom band
In front a phantom crowd
In the pre-warm up show, he rocked the empty old concert hall stand
Outside some kids from Coltman,
Drinking some beer and just smoking some crack
He and the phantom band headed home
Past the house of the Pocatello Nymphomaniac
Daniel walked up the stairs, sat on his chair, pulled out his guitar and played
Next door the neighbors sat with their ears to the wall listening to the midnight serenade
The old boy across the road in Jasmine Street opened the window, to hear the guitar crying
Listening to the sound of the junkies strings and the, silent neighbors smiling
In the morning he was still playing, his fingers red, they were getting tired,
The audience next door exhausted on the floor but, still smiling
Now back to the grand concert hall for his first ever gig, and the posters all around the town
Read Daniel and his 6 ****** strings are going to bring the house down
The local poet society, were reciting poetry to me, empty chairs in the hall, I stand on the stage looking for familiarity,on this day I’ve waited for
The first ones through the door were the neighbors who made love to my music
Tears still in their eyes from last night’s show, they took my gift of music and abused it
And the man from down the block he’s here too he shouted “Daniel this world needs more **** musicians like you”
Fat Shane from Mobile Alabama who’s just come out the slammer on day release to just see me
Soon the hall’s filled with 1200 faces all crowded in this space but there’s just 2 empty seats
One is for my mother who’s 3 years passed and told me son always follow your dreams
And the others for the ****** and the Monkey who lost the race and gifted these vintage strings to me
For a brand new set of vintage strings
Beat the ****** real easy, took the vintage guitar
And smiled “hey man it’s just one of these things”
Placed the guitar over his shoulder, like a baby he held her
Closed his eyes and played some chords
With the chords came some lyrics, in the darkness he sat
In the center of Jensen Grand Concert Hall
The ghost on the piano, she preformed a haunting solo
Behind him was a phantom band
In front a phantom crowd
In the pre-warm up show, he rocked the empty old concert hall stand
Outside some kids from Coltman,
Drinking some beer and just smoking some crack
He and the phantom band headed home
Past the house of the Pocatello Nymphomaniac
Daniel walked up the stairs, sat on his chair, pulled out his guitar and played
Next door the neighbors sat with their ears to the wall listening to the midnight serenade
The old boy across the road in Jasmine Street opened the window, to hear the guitar crying
Listening to the sound of the junkies strings and the, silent neighbors smiling
In the morning he was still playing, his fingers red, they were getting tired,
The audience next door exhausted on the floor but, still smiling
Now back to the grand concert hall for his first ever gig, and the posters all around the town
Read Daniel and his 6 ****** strings are going to bring the house down
The local poet society, were reciting poetry to me, empty chairs in the hall, I stand on the stage looking for familiarity,on this day I’ve waited for
The first ones through the door were the neighbors who made love to my music
Tears still in their eyes from last night’s show, they took my gift of music and abused it
And the man from down the block he’s here too he shouted “Daniel this world needs more **** musicians like you”
Fat Shane from Mobile Alabama who’s just come out the slammer on day release to just see me
Soon the hall’s filled with 1200 faces all crowded in this space but there’s just 2 empty seats
One is for my mother who’s 3 years passed and told me son always follow your dreams
And the others for the ****** and the Monkey who lost the race and gifted these vintage strings to me
