It’s the fantastic drowse of a Saturday mourning,
As it calls you to waken him.
Steeped in the road of a 10’o clock, but not for rock n roll.
Here in the skies of a military guise, a sad-eyed goodbye
Hazier dazes chase me, embrace me, bores
Me to smokier roads.
Hear the sounds arouse of a Messiah’s chords,
Lord above, she loves it.
And I never wanted to be anything more
Than a spectated chair blazing, rock gazing whore at Gibson’s feet.
Play for me, stay with me hear, and cheer from the groupies
Whooping in the air- care for me.
Yesterday moments I remember,
Bleak street, petite shrouds of a rock crowd,
Endowed. Three chords tell the truth in a drowse
Daze in thoughts of cheers, fears for the death of the sound.