One afternoon in the kitchen listening to some of my favourite old songs from my Punk Rock days
The *** Pistols God Save the Queen, Pretty Vacant, Did you no Wrong and Silly Thing
Then I started listening to The ******'s New Rose, a great riff and then Neat Neat Neat
Neat Neat Neat doesn't have as good a riff but it has this mad guitar piece in the middle where it just goes crazy...wild!!!
At this stage I just had to get it out, yea! I had to get out my air guitar
I'm a virtuoso Air Guitar player, if there was an Air Guitar contest I'd win easily
So I get my Air Guitar out and suddenly I'm whizzing around the kitchen
I'm doin' a Wilko, a Wilko Johnson (RIP Wilko)
I'm flying around goin' crazy with the music
Now I'm wearing these casual Work Pants that I like to wear
And they have pockets everywhere, and they also have funny hooks and loops coming out of them, I never knew what they were for
(Probably for hanging tools)
As I'm flying round the kitchen doesn't one of the loops from my pants get caught in one of the cupboard door knobs
And suddenly there's this Big tug and an awful Wwwrench!!! Noise
I stop and wonder what the **** was that...I look
The door of the cupboard's been ripped off its hinges
****! I say to myself...Ssshit!
I'm after tearing one of the cupboard doors off
Then I stop and wonder for a moment and slowly a smile creeps over my face
"Wait a minute", I think to myself
 Now that... that's Punk Rock!".

Honey-flowing rivulets of jazz-beaten syncope,
Trumpets blowing smoke across the room,
‘Curveball’ Sammy hustles bass behind the bar,
Snares his songbird in a played back loop.

Harlem shufflers work the floor, breaking safe,
Clave rhythm scufflers with a New York twist,
Black keys write with borrowed brass on iv’ry walls,
Pick the lock on a swelt’ring southern riff.

nobody gets the cancer twice.  
(a blues guitar riff)

blood in the stool
ain’t nobody’s fool,
whent to high school
did not graduate,
but know it wasn’t no thing I ate

scale greets me friendly like,
long lost buddy from yesterday morn,
‘let get right down to it,
let’s see how much less of you borne
leftover alive from the prior day’

spirit spit blood from my gums,
got me a woman, she’s way over town,
woman said I’m brushing with
too hard a brush, alright, alright,
make no fuss, she’s good to me

nobody’s fool whent to school,
though I did not graduate,
a mean riff is better than a
slow moving woman blues cry,
got the strings to do my screaming

doctor is a fan, name is Jimmy,
played music like last time round,
Jimmy-jamming, dancing in the waiting room,
“that cancer got kick, it’s gonna get ya,
think I told ya that about hunner times before”

‘nobody gets the cancer twice,’
an old wives tale for unlucky po’ somofabitches,
do you some tests, tell ya the specifics,
right now, lay, lay down them new tracks,
no quitting time less the good lord comes a-calling’

blues guitar makes a man
cry shiver scream and shake,
progressions licks and tricks,
so you can’t tell what’s making
a grownup man cry and laugh louder

bring me my medicine
bring me my guitar
all I know is how it makes me feel,
oh baby once a night it’s true,
nobody gets the cancer twice

It's beauty is endless.
The notes it sings,
the music it plays.
Each guitar is unique,
Each has a different style.
As I play, I am happy.
Double slides, hammer-ons, pull-offs.
Playing the same riff over and over,
until your fingers hurt from the strings.
The feeling you get when you master a riff,
and play it with the song.
You feel unstoppable, You feel happy,
I feel me.