Letters are old school, but I guess so am I.
In a way, I guess that is true,
I sometimes feel like I am an old fool,
Stuck in the Motown groove,

The 21st Century is not for me,
Waiting a minute before I can hear the next song,
And when it eventually comes on it's one filled with hate,
And let’s not even talk about trying to date,

They said to leave a message after a beep,
For my old soul that means a beat,
That brought with it dance and heat,
Words and rhymes and a drumbeat,

See back in my day, a letter meant waiting on the mail man,
And not looking for blue ticks from an app I got from an online store,
It meant post stamps and asking friends to proofread,
It meant punctuating every line so that you knew without you I could not breathe,

Being in love was not just words and play,
It meant dancing in the street; we called it grooving,
Not sweet talking and lying,
The old fool in me is tired of trying,

Am not saying that you are lying,
But you are in no way trying,
To meet me in the street,
Or groove to a Motown beat,

I wish you were sending me flowers,
While you were out there spending time,
With worlds that were not even meant to be real,
My old soul needs more than one-off dines or drinking box wine!

See back in Motown, when a man loved a woman,
He could not keep his mind on anything else,
He did not put a little loving on her, or shelve her
It meant the whole street knew her, and even knew her favorite beat!

I have known only one other of your kind, the sweet-talking guy,
You have me down on my knees wondering when you are going to leave,
That is not love, I don’t know what it is,
Feels like it, but this is something else!