Souls and sounds

I want to drop out of school.

Take shots of cocaine alongside Hendrix.

Grow up fighting the laws.

Sulk in basements of friends smoking pot.

Listen to records all day long.

Go around for gigs all night.

Come home wasted.

Get thrown out back on the streets.

Laugh merrily at the empty pockets.

Always in a reverie.

A sheepish smile through the curls.

As smoke circles hit the ceiling.

Pick up the guitar.

The sound of distortion livens me up.

Mates look at each other.

‘I think we should start a band’.

In the garage we kick it off.

Records, guitars, pot.

Whatnot.

Cruising through heaps of sound.

Songs are born into the band.

From garage to stage.

We hit it off.

Scream our lungs out.

To tell you our minds.

Bright lights, warm sweat.

Blurred vision.

Free minds unite.

To save the world.

Millions live on hope.

Music is hope.

Though slightly inconspicuous to the random pair of eyes.

Songlines spread like a pandemic.

Through faceless faces.

And beautiful minds.

Living in the 70’s I’m not.

But save the world I will.

Find me.