Snare me a rim while you strike that cymbals.
I shall keep the treble of my bass.
Let my tom toms capitulate,
Then only then all backbeat will and would
Accumulate into something I can sink my Hi-hat into.
Scribble that beat into something
My foot can bash the drumming
Sweet savage bass that cannot be beat.
While I try to doodle a rhyme
Where no metre has gone before,
I can make it with or without your backbeat.
Please write me a stanza in a chorus where your refrain makes no quarter,
And leave it all behind a levels of decibels that makes my ear shrivel.
Share a song,
Love me a line,
where my ear would be kind. . .
to listen in,
to hear you say,
make me a new disciple of your way.
Then Believe on the backbeat of a Starr,
Listen to voice from Cash,
and let a Harrison’s guitar
cry each tear ’til,
Bonham comes as zombie animal
so that Plant can wail again.
Tell me a song where
you were the one who gave me
that never sleeps.
And that end of a tune
that do love me the same,
since I came in to that door
and out of that gate.
Where do I lay loyalty. . .
The love where I lay upon each and one of them pretties,
or the love of things I can be a part of.
Which I can share first to my bleeding ears,
and sometimes to those who knows
how to appreciate a tune or just
wild and fine dancing to a backbeat
of a hum.
Then he sang that jolly jingle,
and she did nothing but watch,
and love me and my partner in crime,
. . .
I love you,
you love me,
we’re a happy . . .
I realize what it means
a happy heart can be.
In terms of what of a kiss from Canada,
were I be heavily under in arms of a Seraphine
First of a voice that was Dion.
But what held me was the wind from a Mclachlan.
Then that throat of an Adams.
Seems to me,
their love of what music
can endeavor my mind.