Listening To Bruce Poem by Gomer LePoet

How many times, has it been now,
after searching high and low, somehow,
when I wanted something fresh and new,
I always seems, not surprisingly, to return to you,
with Every little kiss, he first got my attention,
with southern country kind of jazzed, no, not a new invention,
That's just the way it is, and that's the way it was,
sounded really cool, specially if you had a buzz,
He took us down The spirit trail, he left us in the Hot house,
The changes from here, to there, was like from man to mouse,
King of the hill was his special plan, and used his Spider fingers,
he crawled along the Great divide, carefully he lingers,
he was shaking his Shadow hand, tickling ivory to Swan song,
now we have barely touched the surface, still he moves along,
cruising thru the Funhouse, dark as night, searching for his crown,
Listening to Bruce, never gets old, at least not In this town