A Song

It will soon be apparent that I have zero musical abilities.  I cannot hear well.  I have an inability keep rhythm with all but the most rudimentary thuds and for only a fraction of the time required to understand music.

    The song starts with bells ringing in the background because all good songs start with bells ringing.  There is Mississippi Queen, Love Rain on Me, you get the picture or not.

Mostly drum stuff from here.

a steady 2-4 beat whatever that is
I woke up,(six beats)I can't believe she is gone.
Around the house, (four beats) I wander ever longer.
I check the mail, no message for me,
I spin a round and fall, I am not stroooooongerrr.

guitar strumming before choruses

I can not,(four beats)believe she left me,
I was most com(two beats) mitted to her ass,
I came home often,(two beats) fairly often,
To find her sleeping with a laaaaass.

                
Make my way down the(four beats)path to the jiffy
Only to see my car (two beats)is on fire,
I can smell her scent (four beats)even here in the street,
She told me I was a liiiiiiarrrrrr.

Now I walk(four beats)to find some meaning,
I realize I am in (three beats)the wrong side of town.
It is not always that I get (four beats)wasted,
Now all (two beats)I do is froooooown.

              I can not,(four beats)believe she left me,

              I was most com(two beats) mitted to her ass,

              I came home often,(two beats) fairly often,

              Now, To find her  with a laaaaass.

close the song with a sort of red rover red rover send jimmy right over sound!

I have noticed if you close any song with a wild flurry, people will forget the tripe you fed them in the first several verses.  Stoners have the shortest memories of all demographics.
 Actually, this song was inspired by Bob Dylan's  Precious Memories.  Looking back at that reality, it is hard to tell if anything healthy or decent could have inspired my song. 

Once many years ago, George Harrison, Tom Petty, Neil Young, Joe Walsh, Chris Christupidson and Nemo the Space Chicken, ( I snuck in a Tea Time Movie) gave a concert to honor Bob Dylan.  Every one of these people, Dylan included have two things in common.  The first commonality is their abilities to create fine and lasting music.  The second unniversally accepted note is none of them can sing a lick compared to most "singers".  I remember for the final number of the tribute evening, they all got together, Dylan included and sang "Blowin in the Wind".  Their were tears in my eyes.  The pain in my ears overwhelmed me and it jumped out of my eyes bringing life soothing water with it. 

When all of them went for the golden ring on "The answer my freeeind, is blowin in the wiiiiiiiind", I saw a crack appear in the roof structure of the Hollywood Bowl.  The concert was in Brooklyn!  Regardless of that, it was nice to see and hear a bunch of old rockers jammin.  So I write this song only to purge the Basket and revive the memory.