• At the Bare Bottoms of it All

    I've got nothing to be stolen
    Nor nothing to be given
    All I've got is this old guitar
    And a degree in the arts

    I'll give a hobo a ride back home into the city
    As long as they don't mind the worn red paint
    And the old decaying wrapper decor
    This is all I have to offer, will you accept or deny?

    I once wrote lyrics on my hand
    And all I ever got were insults
    They never cared for the content
    They paused to read and think
    But I don't mind, they're my tattoos of significance

    I stopped awhile to think of a certain friend
    Twirling notes from her flute by day, having caviar by night
    All while I drove through the cracked streets and strummed my old guitar
    I thought of visiting but then decided, she's happy her way and I with mine

    This old guitar of mine I've had for years
    It still strums a pleasant tune
    Together we play our duet
    Letting the world slip on by, while we never change