Notes From The Overground

With all these goddamn bones breaking around me
And the music spitting & frothing over these long gone people
Playing blues like the kind that kicks you in the face
Keyboard shining red like a hot fire
And that rimshot that cuts the air & disappears
Leaves a feeling in your gut turning over
As fingers cross over the melody
You feel alone & that makes you alive
Sitting on a stool swaying & broken-down
Watching the steel guitar fight the push
Forced to play by the guy sitting in a black suit & white hat
Following the lead of the drummer with his hat turned back
And his heart in his hand dreaming of 5 cent fountain Cokes
A man in the corner sliding back & forth across the floor
In & out, fingers snapping, him shaking & feet spinning &
I’m sure every year an old man lives a young man dies
Bass is a king & a song & another man shapeless
Curves around the lip of a thick grey four string
Stroking the sound through & through like you believe &
If you don’t believe yet in this revival
In the solemnity of the aftersound & the ringing in your ears
In the echo in your head as a pulsing lullaby
She swaggers on stage & steps to the microphone
Her smile missing the right front tooth
That’s all that’s required to hit that note that used to make you cry
But now you think of just how many beers you’ve had, divide the hours
Subtract the heartache & you’re left with her gravel
Laid out in the sound that makes you hold your head in your hands
And pray for good days in these desperate weeks of bad
Her still holding it in until you stand up & slide out
Too much good sound, your heart pounds & your ears are overflowing
© Adam Bresson

(No Ratings Yet)

 Loading ...