Is this me
I’ll say it to myself so you don’t think that I’m crazy
This club is soulless and I think that I would rather be
Writing the pages of a book that you’ll read quietly
Inside your house all by yourself, that’s where I want to be

Rock and roll
I never aimed to own the stage or to sell my soul
I’d rather write a book with characters whose lives unfold
And bring you coffee in the morning when outside it’s cold
While you read the first draft all you say is ‘this is gold’

In a dream
That’s where I am until I find the literary stream
And then I’ll swim to save my life
And write a book about your wife
And how she sits inside her house all day and writes and writes
The pages bound, the crowd applauding at the writer’s fair

Each person takes a copy home to bed and
Holds it there
Holds it there
Holds it there