We lock eyes across the bar
Hit pool ***** with sticks
Clink glasses filled with drinks
And dance badly to songs on the jukebox

We buy shots with our friends
Gossip on the stairs
Hug when the night ends

The student soundtrack to our love story

remember
when music was
pure & uncut,
when we were all users
trying to survive?

addicted to
the crack-le of
the needle
as it hit the 45?

back when the
natural high of
heart & soul
was enough to suffice?

we’re just
some junkies
looking to score

excuse me mister,
could you spare a dime?

there are times when
all you can feel is nothing
no rhyme or reason
no rhythm
no melody

not a single note in sight
no colour to be heard
no breeze to savour
although the aftertaste
is bittersweet

so you try them on
feeling after feeling
discarded on the floor
in a pile of ***** laundry
the broken records

and then they spin
out of control
there's no order
and no queue
the tapes won't rewind

the sink is still broken
your words still sting
the jukebox remains silent
empty.

The seconds tick away,
Yet the clock stands still.
At the end of the day,
Where did the hours go?
And the world spins 'round,
Yet we're rooted to the ground.
Life goes by,
And we're blown away
By the hours wasted,
In a precious day.
See how the world spins (!)
And the people run around,
Living busy little lives,
Running into the ground.
All for nothing,
All is lost (!)
For the people know the minutes,
But lose sight of time.
At the end of the day,
What will you leave behind?

A boy he was
Long, long ago
As he glided into the chromed and teal druggist shop
1950s it was
Vintage years
Women in pert dresses
Men in sharp taupe suits
Filled the shop with a smoky manner
On that summer Sunday afternoon
Fan bladed just a-turnin'
Right through time itself

He saw this box before
Jeweled, valuable big music box
Been here not too long
Breathing in a flavored breath
He saw another it
The black round of pure bliss
"Blue Suede Shoes" by Elvis Presley
The white letterin' said
Letter G
Number 4
Hands ***** cold metal from warm pockets
Slipping them into the maiden's shelter
Fingers to buttons,
Arm to record
Music to shop
"Well, it's one for the money,
Two for the show,
Three to get ready,
Now go, cat, go."
Floated in mass commodity
Away the ears and mind blew in the wind
Far from his hometown
Far from his school
And far from everything he already knew...

Daydream ended too soon for his comfort
The boy stared at the flashy box
And spoke a quiet goodbye
Tile guided him out the ringing door
Concrete guided him home
Where now the older him
Lives crooked, but happy
With a dear old woman who loves him more than anything else
And a jukebox
With many records in it
But one is still on top
"Blue Suede Shoes" by Elvis Presley
In chipped, faded lettering