If you're ever afflicted with a Southern sojourn
and need your daily dose of heartache
in a falsely friendly Dixie Hell
walk into any given pawn shop.
Take a look around at the failed passion
lining the walls like cheap wallpaper.
There's something very symbolic
about a man selling his guitars;
it's more than just needing money--
it's sacrificing your soul
to a world full of people who can't kiss
let alone dance.
You won't see any typers on the shelves.
This breed knows that
it doesn't get better before it gets worse
and someone's got to remember
what the rest want to forget.
2 comments:
that's actually real good
thank you. says who?
Post a Comment