His hair is a potted plant. His voice is on loan from a bullfrog, and he’s three payments behind. He lists to port a bit. His guitar is still full of air from another state. He’s never worked a day in his life, but his hands are knobby and calloused just the same. He smiles from time to time. I think that’s what that thing his face does is, anyway.
Play guitar. Get girls.
6 Responses
Only point to goin' to Memphis is to shoot a man, an' ya gotta take a southbound train to get there. Then you can write a blues song about it.
When I was a boy I was given a choice: learn guitar or accordion. I foolishly chose the guitar.
Your last sentence, rock and roll in four words.
http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/50/eaed1253050e9b3c82638ffbe8473681/l.jpg
You are right, but, he can sure entertain.
(You have to click:
"search by image")
You go, Lyle.