This was the dream to make it as a band,
however it all fell apart before
it even really began, called it quits,
separated, went our own ways, so grand,
we failed or succeeded in our fashion,
apart we grew up and grew old, the door
still open shuts close, after popping zits,
truth be told, thirty years later, we talk
how our creativity, our passion,
evident from the start, plummets alone,
drums took a backseat to paying the bills,
rust never sleeps, I lost the skills to hone
each knife in my practice kit, gives me chills
as I grow older to look back, the clock
makes its way each day with no time for breaks,
to watch other bands play, their hard work pays
off with more hard work, touring with the muse,
music makes sense more than poetry, makes
art available to an audience,
killed the dream in my sleep, lost in a haze,
every memory like playing the blues,
if I wanted to start over again,
the time is now, nothing else makes much sense,
as I settled down to disappointment,
studying Buddhist scriptures didn't help,
after my father died, an angel sent
billions of tears for me to feel, I sculpt
arguments in my head, my dad listens,
nothing in life is worth losing your dream,
dreams come once, don't lose heart or you may scream.
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