I guess I'm a grumpy old muso! Thanks for the reminder random drunk lady. I owe you one. ....p.s. I took license on the drunken Aussie slang... it's a mess to hear, leave alone write. ;)
She's wobbling dangerously close to my brand new keys
Plastic cup in hand.... I see a few drops dribble down her forearm
With a drunken grin she peers through mottled hair,
"Hey why don'tcha play somethin'? C'mon, c'mon..... C'MON!!"
Still negotiating leads, my new sustain pedal, I'm ignoring her
She leans forward, and places her cup on my left speaker,
Throws her arms in the air and "Woohoo's" across the room
I wryly recognize this as the standard cry of the 20-somethings
Angrily removing her cup I prop my lyrics up on the stand
A million things going through my head.. some technical
Some cynical... I am too old to be putting up with this.....
And she is too young and too pretty to be so wasted
Glancing around, an expectant crowd is gathering
Hurriedly I finish my set-up and sit behind my keyboard
Testing volumes, when drunken fingers swipe across my own
And the drink I recently removed, along with it's owner.....
Is sliding across the place my lyrics used to be...
I am catching women, books, drinks and my temper
All in one less-than-graceful swoop, and with a snarl,
I tell the girl to "Back off my stuff, are you for real?"
She shrugs, looks at her empty cup and shows her bottom lip
Seeing the opening, I pack down faster than I set up - Quick!
Stuffing leads in bags under curious eyes across the stage
The race is on before her cup is refilled and my gear is ruined
My car stealthily loaded, my escape is swift and well-practiced
I'm smiling as we drive away... hearing her yell behind me,
"HEY! Where ya goin'? Jusss wanya to play somethin'...jeez!"
The difference between THIS party and gigs so abundantly clear
I can leave, and remember why I don't miss pub shows anymore.
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 819 times
Written on 2014-03-02 at 16:36
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
My Keyboard is NOT a Coffee Table!
She's wobbling dangerously close to my brand new keys
Plastic cup in hand.... I see a few drops dribble down her forearm
With a drunken grin she peers through mottled hair,
"Hey why don'tcha play somethin'? C'mon, c'mon..... C'MON!!"
Still negotiating leads, my new sustain pedal, I'm ignoring her
She leans forward, and places her cup on my left speaker,
Throws her arms in the air and "Woohoo's" across the room
I wryly recognize this as the standard cry of the 20-somethings
Angrily removing her cup I prop my lyrics up on the stand
A million things going through my head.. some technical
Some cynical... I am too old to be putting up with this.....
And she is too young and too pretty to be so wasted
Glancing around, an expectant crowd is gathering
Hurriedly I finish my set-up and sit behind my keyboard
Testing volumes, when drunken fingers swipe across my own
And the drink I recently removed, along with it's owner.....
Is sliding across the place my lyrics used to be...
I am catching women, books, drinks and my temper
All in one less-than-graceful swoop, and with a snarl,
I tell the girl to "Back off my stuff, are you for real?"
She shrugs, looks at her empty cup and shows her bottom lip
Seeing the opening, I pack down faster than I set up - Quick!
Stuffing leads in bags under curious eyes across the stage
The race is on before her cup is refilled and my gear is ruined
My car stealthily loaded, my escape is swift and well-practiced
I'm smiling as we drive away... hearing her yell behind me,
"HEY! Where ya goin'? Jusss wanya to play somethin'...jeez!"
The difference between THIS party and gigs so abundantly clear
I can leave, and remember why I don't miss pub shows anymore.
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 819 times
Written on 2014-03-02 at 16:36
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Lawrence Beck |
|
Rob Graber |
| Texts |
 by Purple Phoenix Latest textsCatharsisEggs on Freeways Blank Canvas Seasons of Green Sweet Sunday |
Increase font
Decrease