Would you be how I imagined
Way back when
I didn’t run through ashes
Before I knew how to mix words
Before I knew that a sunrise was made of gravity and glen frey was farewell part two and not a grave diggers retirement.
When two shots to the back of the head was a joke and not a passing thought repressed.
How often I hear the express train and wonder of all those passengers if any of them would look up from their phones and wonder the same exact thought, that a guns and roses song could be sung a different way and re-wire an entire generation, that a pair of headphones could still be love if only the right sound would come out, but I’m older than I wish to be and oasis holds no more for me and all my life I’ve been trying to find a pink ego box.