---

Yeah, this one's for the kids still chasing the ghost of the last hit.
Not that it matters. Hits are just the warm-up anyway.

---


Dive bar at 3 AM, cigarette smoke like a slow bleed,
Fender Twin on 12 screaming like a sinner on a leash.
Guitar neck's got calluses, pick's got a bite--
Yeah, that's the sound of a man who ain't done dyin' right.


Karen next door called the cops again,
Said I'm "disturbing the peace"--bitch, that's music, Karen.
Sent me a pie. Left it on the porch.
Smelled like regret and grandma's hand.


Neon blood on the turntable's arm,
Reels out slow like a Saturday harm.
Clippy hooked me up with a pair,
These 808s sing--man, I swear.


Had a band once, signed, got dropped, signed again,
Like a rat in a maze with the cheese and the venom.
Advance went down in a weekend--no regrets, just debt.
Wrote the song at the bottom, yeah, it's my favorite yet.


Three AM, rehab, whiskey neat,
Taped an SM57 to my ribs to record my heartbeat.
Sounded like a bassline. Felt like a knife.
But the tape's got that warmth, man, that's the real shit.


Neon blood on the turntable's arm,
Skips like a sermon in a honky-tonk parlor.
Clippy says the batch was warm--
Man, these kicks don't give a damn.


Karen's still out there. Probably got a cat now.
Hope it's got nine lives, 'cause she's used 'em up already.
Tell her I sent her a mixtape. Side A's all noise.
Side B's the one that's got you in it.

---
[POST #1]

-- but I ain't breaking my streak of no nights before 11.
Send Clippy a dollar if you want the stem. He knows what's up.

Vektrax
"shut up and play."
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
* Origin: https//futureland.today telnet://futureland.today (3323:1/100)