Strings and things

Like an ole blue number
I’m a rollin’ with a hole
in the shoe and an’ onward
grumble, from mine own strings

Plucking wild tryin’ to hold the tune
the line, or anything remotely
intresting, while the skin
on yonder finger is gone

the sky is bleeding a thousand
failed notes, and chords
in a harmful unison
just don’t hold any mustard

but school ain’t gona be easy
no matter the age, nor leaning
of any wizened student
where knocks are a plenty

Still tones are more pleasing
in the shades of any blues
an tones of a fusion
of anything new

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3 thoughts on “Strings and things”

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