You think it’s cool.
And I think it’s cool to have a Guitar that has been through more than me and you.
It’s true.
You think it’s cool.
But I see straight through the packaged tatter on your shoes.
The blues are being misused; the youth could use some real dirt on their shoes.
Sleeping in the sun bringing back the good ol’ days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem