"karaoke" poems
My mom used to tell me when I was a kid
that thank you note is important.
To let people know that you're thankful,
and appreciate their efforts.
As I grow older,
I'm so used on writing thank you notes
with the same template on every note.
But I, or we, tend to forget to write one
for those who cope with our lives.
So I wrote this one is for you.
Thank you for letting me crash in your place
when I was far from sober,
almost on every Friday nights.
You literally picked me up when I'm down.
On the grown.
Thank you for staying up with me until 5
even when you got a big meeting
at 8 in the morning.
Because you know how much I hate sleeping,
but I'll be the bitchiest *****
if you try to wake me up.
Thank you for bringing me a bouquet
of fake flowers
instead of the real one.
You sure know me way too well
to know that I can't keep real flowers alive.
Or cactus, or fishes, or my phone's battery.
Yea, my phone's battery *****
But you trust me to keep what we have, alive.
And lasts as long as it possibly could.
Thank you for making every queue line
less boring with all your dad jokes,
they made me think that
you're a qualified good father
to your future kids.
Or maybe ours.
But I hate children and you love them,
as much as I hate karaoke
and as much as you love it.
But gosh, you made me think of adopting.
We are nothing but night and day.
A thunderstorm and a rainbow.
A cactus and a peony.
A manageable chaos and
a managed you.
And yet we compliment each other like
peanut butter and pickle on a sandwich.
Sure, it's one of the weirdest combination
but somehow it goes surprisingly fine.
I swear I'm not going to make this cheesy
but if it was, well,
****
I know this is not what you imagine
to be with me
in the first place
when you slipped into my life.
But I thank you,
for deciding to stay.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 7:42 PM UTC
the good things in life seem to stay;
like the color yellow, or a warm summer's day
waking up early, running barefoot in grass
feeling the morning dew brush past
hearing the twinkle of an ice cream truck
if you go, you'll catch it, with luck
eating a popsicle as the sun beats down
riding a bike through a small playground
when dusk comes, once again
we're swimming at night and playing with friends
lighting sparklers that shine brighter than stars
popping cap guns you could hear from afar
running barefoot right down the street
giving the neighborhood dog a treat
taking polaroids like the pictures will stay
but lost them then, by the next summer day
watching as fog rolls slowly ahead
the sun goes down, so time for bed
excitement and thrill, time for a sleepover
the day, for now, will never be over!
karaoke on beds at the crack midnight
crashes of thunder, scary stories, and fright!
still, pretty soon, we get used to it
or in the summer, it all happens quick
never sleeping, don't want it to end
even though there's the weekdays and weekend
glowing lights hang above the bed
sleepy eyes remind us dumb things said
summer, now, doesn't last forever
even if we must change the weather
we must savor it, you and me
and kiss summer hello thrillfully!
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
Tonights the night to party
Not just because I say
Tonights the night to party
Because it ' s the ending of the day
Throw up your hands
and yell yee haw
Grab a drink and hit the floor
Dancing without caring
That's what this party's for
The band is slightly out of tune
But, hey who gives a ****
They sound better later on
When you are really lit
By two a.m you'd think that they
Were Alabama and George Jones
While you're trying to record them on
Your prissy little phones
This place don't karaoke
You're singing with the band
You're singing country music
It's the best in all the land
No running shoes, just cowboy boots
Will get you in the door
If you come in with a cowboy hat
Make sure it faces to the front
All the dude's they wear them backwards
And they look like a dumb c***
Tonights the night to party
Not just because I say
Tonights the night to party
Because it ' s the ending of the day
Throw up your hands
and yell yee haw
Grab a drink and hit the floor
Dancing without caring
That's what this party's for
You can listen for the steel guitar
It's there in every song
Hey man, this here's a country bar
And steel guitar , it just belongs
There's always background fiddle
Drums like Levon from The Band
Piano played like Jerry Lee
The floor's all blood and sand
You've come on out to party
Now show them how a redneck does
Knock back a few and get up here
And when you dance, you cuss
The music here will rock you
It's American through and through
It's a good old country party
It's all red white and blue
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Into a place far away but too familiar,
I push open the rusty purple gates,
Inhale a lungful of the province air,
Kick away blue pebbles on the dusty ground,
And then
Mano my lolo, my tito
Beso my lola, my tita
And give my cousins a nudge on the arm,
A pinch on the cheeks.
I squeeze between four people
In a rickety wooden bench and
Pass around plate after heavy plate.
I fill my banana leaf
With spaghetti too soft too sweet,
Almost like pudding,
With crispy chicken dripping with oil.
I wash it off with a cool glass of gulaman,
Chewy beads and gems in sugary water.
Fathers talk about basketball, boxing, billiards;
Mothers browse through photo albums and magazines;
While we children argue about Superman or Batman.
Our laughter fills the humid air
And goes up, up, up to the ears of the neighbors.
In celebration of the time we have together
And a nice sunny day
We devour our meals
And go ahead and
Climb trees and
Get our faces sticky with sweet fruits,
Lick chocolate ice popsicles,
Chase each other in the weedy playground,
Bike around town,
Pick colorful flowers,
Wrestle with each other,
Play badminton on a windy day,
Scare around chickens and guinea pigs,
And play patintero under the dull orange street lamps.
We nervously creep inside the back door,
All sweaty, bearing bruises and scratches
But still with wide smiles on our faces.
All is futile though.
An angry grandmother awaits,
Scolding us for
Coming home past sunset.
More and more stars glitter the sky
As the night gets deeper and deeper.
The gentle evening breeze whistles a note
As it enters through the window.
The karaoke blasts grating voices
Interrupted by hearty laughter.
Playing cards and corn chips litter the table.
We children exchange jokes and ghost stories.
And then,
We bid our goodbyes,
Sharing hugs and kisses
Stained with discontent and sadness.
Our hearts about to burst
In excitement for the next
Reunion.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
“My dream date is after we’ve already been dating for a few months and decide to go out on the town. We meet a cute guy, buy him drinks, and spend the next few hours laughing together and maybe slaying it at a karaoke bar. Afterwards we invite him back to my place and get into some role play. I become Israel, he Palestine, and you The Goddess that helps them finally come together, even though Israel has to bend over a little bit to make it happen.
Confession: this is a dream date. I have to become really committed to physical therapy again in order to get my singing voice back for karaoke and I live with old country people so it’d have to be at your place.”
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 5:29 AM UTC
I died on a Tuesday and found my way in the news
Caught between a commercial and karaoke singing girl
Was the appearance of the killer but they only had his shoes
I approached the desk and rang a little bell
Saint Peter took out a pen, found my name and said
"You're not on the list, you must be looking for Hell."
I tried to appeal for trial in Heavenly Courtroom Twelve
Judge Jesus and Judy had to declare a hung jury
And during recess I had to find a bed in Purgatory Hotel
In Room 237, I met a man named Avery
He was a little cynical and said that this was typical
That "it took them 18 years to finally save me."
In the morning I finally I got to hear the verdict
Led by a jury of peers such as writers and queers
They said hell awaits those whose life isn't worth it
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
Two years ago on Valentine's Day
We had an attempt at reconciliation
And did 69 on a small sweaty couch
In a karaoke bar.
One year ago on Valentine's Day
You avoided eye contact with me and this year
You'll probably kiss someone else
And not talk to me but
That's okay.
Because it'll be just like three years ago
When I didn't know you and
I had a pretty good day.
I don't know. Maybe it won't be exactly like that.
I'm sorry, I'm not trying to deceive myself or anything,
It's just hard to say what real and what's
An admission
Of incompatibility.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Known for obsession with heartbreak,
Turning sounds of heartbroken tears into anthems,
The words we all feel
But could never produce turned into a karaoke song
Volume as loud as it can go,
Trying to drown out memories of the high you gave me
The naive girl in the songs sounds more like me,
As I replay the red flags
With each heartbreak had
there’s a song to be played
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 5:11 PM UTC
I think in Japanese,
write down my thoughts in English,
then twist it all back into sushi:
a tasty bite to eat.
My mind is like origami
folding thoughts into meditation;
meditation unfolds
into a crisp sheet of city lights.
I love you big much,
love you big time;
I love the way you giggle nervously.
Titter-titter,
"Tee-hee-hee!"
It must be amazing to find everything so funny.
Big city, sake sunset;
a karaoke moon rises
over a robotic, neon inception.
(transmutation)
Transformers, Transformers:
autobotic-neurotic Bumblebee
comes to the aid of Samurai Prime.
"Autobots, transform!!"
Bored of the bright lights?
Weary of the snappy-happy gaijin
doing photo-photo
while they look for a sweet sakura-panpan?
Then take a leisurely stroll up to Hokkaido,
where there's less sucky-sucky,
and more bow-down-low-austerity
alongside the 108 gongs a-bonging.
Chant a few prayers,
speak with the sacred cedars,
take a dip in the hot springs
with some smiling monkeys,
and watch snow fall, together.
Nippon, you offer everything.
I can eat 20 times a day
without gaining a pound.
There's always more room
for miso, chanko nabe, shabu-shabu,
gyozo, okonomiyaki—
I am going to stop writing this list
so that I don't drown in my saliva.
I refuse to look back,
refuse to go back to the boredom
of white picket fences and hamburger dreams;
I want to stay here forever.
I love you big much,
love you big time;
totemo ureshii da.
March 1st, 2012
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
there was a little budgie he just love to sing
he was very clever and could sing almost anything
he loved the karaoke down the local bar
hoping maybe someday he could be a star
they held a competition so they could find the best
budgie made his entry to him it was a test
then he began to sing in his budgie voice
and won the competition he was the peoples choice
now he was a star his dream it had come
he sings all time just like budgies do
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
obviously to think and enjoy it
you have to turn your mind
into a mollusc in an oyster shell,
slow... slow... (yawn)... slower...
then you suddenly get electrocuted!
boom! now you're thinking,
you're not as tense as a running
cheetah, hard rock heart muscle,
not too eager on karaoke of karate,
you're the tortoise outrunning
achilles; because the brain enables
such functioning, it's not exactly
an eager heart in the university of
the body - and why is it that domestic
life has completely succumbed to
the gratifications of chemistry with
toothpaste and bleach and other
cleaning materials; i wouldn't
be against doping athletes, i'd tell them
to embrace it... let's synthesise another
world record sprint in the olympics,
because an analysis would mean
talking about 9.58 / 9.51...
and that would be as interesting as looking
at the rosetta stone for clarification
of ancient egyptian: owl, big fish, little fish
carbohydrates boxed;
and still a flea could outrun you,
a flea, yeah, never mind the cheetah.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
Posing squirrels
Legs crossed
Hands on hips
Chins held high
And a smile to drive
Your mind like
A merry-go-round!
Talking trees
Strong limbs
Thin and thick
******** for more space
Their high and low
Pitched voices
Sending thunders through
The ear-holes
Of birds
Zigzagging
For escape
Through the branches
Dancing water
Taking form of the
Most beautiful treasures
The eye can behold
Then suddenly transforming
To a most frightening sight!
In one moment
A nymph strumming the
Horse gut strings
Of an oak guitar
An instant later
A giant serpent
All slim and
Venomous goo
With the head of
The death crone
The legs of a
Rooster
It's iguana tongue
Searching for
Your face!
You look at your own
Reflection in the mirror
You try to speak to
Yourself
Only you have
No mouth
No ears
No nose
No taste or voice
No ability to listen
No smell
But what's this!?
You ask...
My reflection has all these things!
And with the
Evil jest of a
Jealous twin
Your mirror self
Mocks you!
Poking out her tongue
Dancing to music
You can't hear
And making exaggerated
Sniffs of the
Perfume air...
All this
with only your
Eyes to see
What a nightmare!
Thank nature
Our imagination
Roams free in our head
Not physically in our world!
If that were the case...
What kind of world
Would we live in?
Skeletons wearing
Coconuts
Singing karaoke...
Hummingbirds
******* the juice
From our eyeballs...
Again I say
Thank nature
Our imagination
Roams free in our head
Not freely
In our world!
*Inspired at a festival, while
I observed all the fun happening around.*
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
I should have run to Japan, to be the writer that I can, to sing folk to girls who are smiling because they can, I should have road the rails, staring at the never ending cities with hearts ablaze, ducking down into a dreamland maze of alley ways, give my poems to hobos and gays, and find any naru to sing karaoke, go into dens and clubs that traded air for smoking, I'd be the talk of toast, and the **** of the island, or I'd get drunk with samurais on a foam pylon, I'd ask a geisha to dance, but get nervous and spill my drink all over my pants, I'd go with malcontents and roughdy otakus as we hit the arcades on speed, I'd stay at a hotel and get married married in the states, I'd fall in love with a girl for a weekend and shed tell me she hates fancy dinners but loves dates, I would end up sleeping in the hills, high and full of chills, I'll tell school children what the stars mean, even though they can't be seen, I'll write a poem about my sin, of wanting my right, my right of a writing man, in Japan.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
The road was wet with rain
And they were sharing the same umbrella.
They were just about to cross the street,
While inside a jeepney I sat in pain;
Staring at the loading area,
Thinking that what have followed him were supposed to be my feet.
At some restaurant in a mall,
They sat, talked, and ate dinner.
They were together from afternoon 'til evening,
While I just came home after a stroll,
Thinking how much she was a winner
For having what I have always been wanting.
He says he had so much fun,
Going from places to places with her.
They had karaoke and then some.
I guess I could start shooting myself with a gun,
Than to tell myself I'm fine, and be a liar.
What is to lose, anyway? I have none.
I guess my role isn't really that good.
I thought being his girl is one thing I wouldn't trade.
But it seems like their roles are better than mine.
They are the ones who can make his mood.
I guess I'd rather be his comrade,
Than to be his girl; for which he has no time.
If I were a greek goddess,
Then I must be Hera;
And he must be Zeus.
I'm jealous, I confess;
Of all the women he was with this era.
I'm the one he loves, but I wonder how long can I be his muse.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:00 AM UTC
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.
I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?
She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.
It was Josh, right?
Yeah.
Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.
And she did.
Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.
Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.
Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.
You were in it.
Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.
You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.
I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.
My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.
I like coffee.
You wouldn't like me.
Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.
No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.
Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.
Yeah, I'll take it.
I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.
Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.
It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
Alcohol you little devil
My BFF
You did it again
Snook up on me from across the room and flirted,
Unrepentantly
Woooooo! I ****** love you!
Love your pints, your halves, your cocktails,
I crave your sweet wine breath on mine,
I love, love, love you!
My mind is hazy, crazy!
We dance
*** Karaoke!
The special kebab with chilli sauce.
Haha, stumbling, falling into the taxi
Then...
I wake and you are gone and your taste is all that remains,
oh and the stains
On my blouse
and I wake beside another all too familiar friend
“Hangover from hell”
He laughs at me
OH JESUS! PLEASE STOP!
My head bangs from his taunts
I need paracetamol,
Coffee, double espresso
Kickstart me , reanimate me!
I wind my way to work looking like a car wreck
Just want this day to end...
But you have me, Alcohol you devil
My BFF
Will I see you tonight?
Same time, same place?
I’ll be there
Yeay!
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Croaky Karaoke
You poke your eyes out,
you put your eyes in,
you poke your eyes out,
and no vision makes you shout,
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
people next to you become astound.
You pull your ears off,
you put your ears on,
you pull your ears off,
now you can't hear the applause.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
no longer can you hear a sound.
You pull your tongue out,
you put your tongue in,
you pull your tongue out,
the blood starts to pour like a spout.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
now it's tough even for a clown.
You yank your teeth out,
you put your teeth in,
you yank your teeth out,
and that's what life's all about.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
by now your underwear is browned.
You rip your head off,
you put your head on,
you rip your head off,
people are using your eyes for golf.
You do the croaky karaoke,
and twist yourself around,
now you're dead, as you fall to the ground.
It was a party at the ***** colony,
the croaky karaoke was pure comedy.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
there was a little budgie he just love to sing
he was very clever and could sing almost anything
he loved the karaoke down the local bar
hoping maybe someday he could be a star.
they held a competition so they could find the best
budgie made his entry to him it was a test
then he began to sing in his budgie voice
and won the competition he was the peoples choice.
now he was a star his dream it had come
he sings all time just like budgies do
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Sing with me,
I've slept with bloodshot eyes
I've dreamt of a sunrise
that erases everything
Oh, every thing
Move with me
You won't have to be alone
Wrap your hand around a microphone
And sing with me until the sun comes
Sleep with me
Talk to me about yourself all night
We'll grow tired as the dawn bites
And lay side by side,
with no where to hide
Too tired-
we can pretend to be dead
Too bad it's all in my head
It's all in your head
We'll never be dead
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
I.
you never saw me in winter:
shearling fur and kettlebell boots
my outer crust cracking from one step outdoors.
I wear socks to bed
and smoke Belmonts to cover
my breath with toxins
instead of you.
II.
I never wear pants when I’m with you
mostly because I’m hoping to re-enact me walking
over the Millennium Bridge
in May.
if the wind pushed any further
up my skirts, it would force my lungs right out my throat.
my hotel room called for us
but you were on a plane to Norway
and I was in my head.
III.
the last time we had ***
you told me you’d finish me off first next time
but I’m always like your backup song for karaoke,
in case someone takes your first choice.
you never:
acknowledged that my rice was shaped like a heart
and yours like a star at dinner,
ask me what my tattoos mean,
but always ask me if I’m pregnant.
you’re a roll of film that needs be developed but
I keep smearing the edges with my fingers
and scanning the red light over myself.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Anyone can enter your church
No matter what their age
Mine, well, you have to be legal
At least in the section that doesn't serve food
Yours smells of incense and candle wax
The air smells of wood polish
Mine has stale beer and on humid days
Remnants of cigars and cigarettes from years ago
We have windows that can open
But, most times they are painted shut
Yours, beautiful colors of glass
Images from the bible, glorious
You have a choir singing the grace of God
My place of worship has live bands once a month
Karaoke on Fridays with wanna be singers
Making us pray to God for it to end
You have pictures of Saints on your windows
And tapestries on the walls
The closest we have is posters of sports teams
And The St. Pauli girl promoting beer
You will never find me at your church
But, we may find you in ours on occasion
We don't have sacramental wine like you
But, we do have a larger drink menu for all
People come to your church to wash away their sins
Then a few hail Mary's and a Lord's Prayer
With us, they come to drown their sorrows
And our hail Mary's have bacon, 2 for 1 on Sunday
Our sky pilot will listen like your pastor
He doesn't judge unless you get too drunk
But, that's on him, not you
Your pastor won't judge, but, still gives penance
I know where I am Sunday
I know where you are too
Your church is not always open
Mine's good from 10 till 2
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 7:14 PM UTC
I fell
[through hugs and kisses,
arguments,
Italian takeout,
suits and dresses,
texts at 2 am,
summer karaoke nights,
missed curfews,
coffee,
****** movies,
classic '70s songs,
stairs,
health food and vegetables,
fights,
antagonism,
test scores,
spaceships,
and happiness]
in love.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
People are a lot like songs
there are songs that you love the first time but they grow old very fast
and you no longer care to hear them
there are songs that drive you insane,
that seem to be everywhere
and get stuck in your head so easily
no matter how much you want them gone
there are songs you can't get enough of
but you only listen to them when you're sad
because they are not the happiest of songs
there are songs everyone else loves
that you yourself don't enjoy quite as much
and there are songs you love
that no one else cares for
there are songs you feel touching your heart
that you want to learn the words to
but they lose their magic once you know
the words that were hidden
amongst the loud instrumentals
there are songs from long ago
that show up now and then
that you regard fondly and think
back to simpler times
there are songs that make you feel rebellious
ready to overthrow an unjust tyrant
and there are songs that leave you
with a strange sense of purpose
and spark inspiration and hope within you
there are songs with lyrics
profound and wise
and others with lyrics
that do not hold the least bit of sense
I personally hope that you will be a song
that never gets old
that I know each and every word to
I hope you are a song that brings happiness
whenever you come on the radio
and for a moment,
you make me forget everything
and I lose myself in your melody
I hope you are a song that is my first choice
every time I go to karaoke
because you just feel so right
and i hope you are a song
that sounds better to me
the longer I listen
that leaves me thoroughly satisfied
as the last note plays out
and the music fades to silence
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
1.
Lively out of tune,
Songstress with liquid courage
Croons, frogs in her throat.
2.
Sake’s bad English,
Raw fish / pronunciations,
Glad songs for drowning.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
.
Seems that I'm spending
most of my time down at the Karaoke King.
Under more normal circumstances
I wouldn't even say a thing.(But...)
I need to invest some more time in me
or I'll never become a star,
because I've sunk a pretty penny
just pimpin' out my car.
And this Mississippi mud
is even bogging down my truck,
and if I don't keep it rockin'
I may never get unstuck.
Success always comes from hard, hard work
it never comes to you from afar.
Would you please remind me tonight
to change the strings on my air guitar?
And I've been too tired to dance
with my own silhouette.
I just want a house out in the country,
and a brand new black Corvette.
My future's slowly rising,
it shouldn't take me long.
You see, this stage has been my home
and this here's my new song!
I need to invest some more time in me
or I'll never become a star,
because I've sunk a pretty penny
just pimpin' out my car.
And this Mississippi mud
is even boggin' down my truck,
and if I don't keep it rockin'
I may never get unstuck.
Wont you help me,
please; won't you help me?
Because I want to be a star.
Just do me a favor and remind me tonight
to change the strings on my air guitar.
Please do me a favor and remind me tonight...
to change the strings on my air guitar.
.
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC