Country Bars & A Singer’s Pride by ShyHeart

I’ve been singing songs, in country bars,
since I was, seventeen.
Dim light and all that smoke,
hell, I can’t, even see my self…,

The waitress moves by memory,
from the tables to the bar
She knows everybody’s name,
from Bud…, to Lone Star.

I hear the fight, that’s goin on,
the bouncer’s crackn heads…,
My, guitar don’t mean a thing,
Just, a bar-room, distraction

The parking lot is full of trucks,
And men, who have had enough
Then, the waitress, hands me a note,
bout a limousine, out front.

Seems, that someone, heard my songs,
but their afraid to come inside…,?
They want to talk, about my songs
and, a new, way of life…,

Can’t believe I’m standing here,
with a limousine, just outside…,
But, I’ve never walked out on a gig,
and a singer…, has his pride.

luc (68.74.145.89) -- Tuesday, August 12 2003, 04:06 pm

you really a singer arnt you?
you sound like someone who would really be a good singer. i mean personality wise, since obviously i havent heard your voice. anyways, i liked the poem, how it goes and such. and the last stanza was good too...

Ben (67.124.45.73) -- Tuesday, August 12 2003, 08:04 pm

Paints a picture of a familiar.......
Hey, Martin! This one paints a picture of a familiar scene, has a story and a little drama to it. It took me back to some places I've been through. It leaves some to the imagination, too! Thanks! Keep Rockin'!

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