Homemade spread on crumpets and toast
A thin slice of me, wherever you go..
Bed & Breakfast at the Chateau Marmont..
Where you'd write me letters in an ivory font..
Your old soul haunts through the strings of my guitar,
as I play the songs we'd once sing in the car...
Drugs, Loneliness, Deception & no through roads..
Isn't that just the way our lives were supposed to go?
I hear your music sometimes, on the radio..
a stairway to heaven is just as close...
Sorry that you only thought of me
as a string you played, yours sincerely....
About a romance between a musician and a waitress. When the musician becomes a household name he starts to see her as a groupie rather than his girlfriend.. as he dives into a life of substance abuse and rock star virtues..
— The End —