face and hands of an angel
surrounded in black
beneath your umbrella burns
a cigarette ash
the roadies all working, rain
flows cross the stage
in the twilight of the mountains
are you showing your age?

Big Star, do you
do you remember the times
when you did your own sound checks
and you didn't mind
tuning your Martin and
testing the mike
and you almost felt like
a big star

a lone girl in the rainfall
at the foot of the stage
in her eyes burns the fire
you once had at her age
she opened her act long
before all the stars
and she stares up and dreams
that she might go just as far

so, Little Star, don't you let
that fire go out
keep writing and playing and
traveling about
there was a time when that Big Star
once stood in your shoes
and remembers the years she spent
paying her dues

and, Big Star, please glance past
the glare of the lights
you might see someone who
someday just might
be standing in her own Big Star shoes—
an overnight sensation
many years in the making
riding the buses and
enduring the same frustration as you—
all to become a big star
just like you