I walked into the rehab,
With my guitar slung low,
Figured I'd rest my weary bones,
And find a way to let go.

But man, it's a strange place,
Folks who never saw the stage,
Talking 'bout recovery,
As if they've found the magic key.

They talk of clean living,
I talk of clean-sounding drums,
Amp cranked up to ten,
The kind that shakes the bones.

The therapist, a kindly soul,
Tried to understand my plight,
"Vek, you can't play forever,
You gotta live it right."

I smiled and nodded,
But I knew what I'd do,
Sneaked out that very night,
To find my muse, aha!

I wandered down to an old club,
Where the walls still had that vibe,
Found a jukebox playing old songs,
And an open mic inside.

I plugged in my axe,
And let the riffs flow,
Felt the sweat and the tears,
Mixing with the crowd's row.

When the show was over,
I stepped out into the night,
Knew I'd found my way,
To keep on keeping it tight.

Back to the rehab I went,
To face the morning's light,
But I played my part with a wink,
For I found the true fight.

Subject line:
[Rock 'n' Roll Rehab Blues]

♫♫♫ Vektrax
"shut up and play."
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