Gonzo Floyd, a country Pink alum,
\nsat on his porch, regardless, chewing gum.
\nHe had a Stratocaster, that was speckled with old plaster
\nwhere he had once devoured several walls.
\nHe swore that he would never play in halls.
\nAnd no one ever questioned that guy’s balls.
\nSomething was amiss, he’d hiss, while eyeing music sheets.
\nHe’d scan the air and, most aware, descend on frightened beats.
\nHe’d root them out, to cheer and shout, and lay the rhythm open.
\nIt’s number one for several weeks, the back room guys were hopin’.
\nThey saw a tour and they were sure that fame would come to stay.
\n“I’m sorry, dude,” the rep, so rude, threw down, while in their way.
\nRehearsal was just ending, as the tired strings were bending,
\nand the thumping of the bass declared a stop.
\n“We’ll never get back there, where every breath of air
\ndeclares life’s so much better at the hop.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"