Were I to wear cowgirl boots on New Year’s Eve’
Would they walk me to your shine?
Were you to spin 70’s tunes on your record player
Would your dancin’ feet meet mine?
What did you wish for on your birthday without me
A shared path for us to find?
What I begged of the Ghost of Christmas Past
A machine to turn back time….
I’d walk away from that song
Move as far from
Smothering, dark guitar riffs
Microphone too close to the lips
Smacks of the 70’s
Sounds no one thought much of
To this crowd, though, it’s fly
But I’m leaving the headache
The poor acoustics
The noise for these poor ears
Cue the fog machine and strange piano