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The reminiscing of a has been musician as he nears the end of his life. |
If one could own his age, I would not ever admit to the decades I have bore. If I’ve lived sixty years, I could live sixty more. And I would wear my hair down to hide my greys. Change my views to cover up my old ways. If I aged a day past twenty-five, I never did feel it. When the lights were the brightest and my pants were the tightest. Food never made me pay and I smoked a pack a day. Dating was for fun and my care was close to none. The mirror lies to me when I ask for my reflection. And people say I won’t live to see the next election. But my hands still hug the strings with the innocence of a boy. And my third wife has a body that even he would enjoy. What good is all this money when those I love continue to die? Yesterday you wore your dress half way up your thigh. But now you’re six feet in the ground and I’m left wondering why; All these years went by and I never told you: That first time that you left me, all I did was cry. And now, I’m no different from the other man with a year to his life. How could I spend so much of it caught up in strife? When you were only a phone call away, I held onto my pride. And it never seemed to bother you that I took another bride. But she got annoyed with my lying face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep up with her pace. Took my money and thought was funny. I looked at her youth and all I could see was me. In the driver seat of our Chevy, with my hands on the key. You smoked a joint in the back and yelled for me to watch out for the tree. We crashed that car for the third time but I didn’t seem to care. I was high on life and the scent of your hair. And if I look at pictures of what I used to be, I’ll smile and sigh and remember that behind every you, there was me. We’ve traveled this distance, we’ve come this far. Separated by death and yet; here we are. |