While listening to Bruce Hornsby Live,
His talented fingers pluck melodies the please and soothe me. I groove and gather myself tight in the music.
I am transported to another era
Where things were not always simpler
But they were sadder for me,
When my hair, golden thick reached my waist and I could see the toes of my biker boots.
My heart's arsonist tendencies burned more bridges than I care to admit
And I walked and strutted blind and full of pride through a black and white world.
Now, I allow myself a self-indulgent Melancholy smile, an instant of self-pity as I recognize the how are everything, including our perceptions are tainted by time's grey passage.
Sent from my iPhone
His talented fingers pluck melodies the please and soothe me. I groove and gather myself tight in the music.
I am transported to another era
Where things were not always simpler
But they were sadder for me,
When my hair, golden thick reached my waist and I could see the toes of my biker boots.
My heart's arsonist tendencies burned more bridges than I care to admit
And I walked and strutted blind and full of pride through a black and white world.
Now, I allow myself a self-indulgent Melancholy smile, an instant of self-pity as I recognize the how are everything, including our perceptions are tainted by time's grey passage.
Sent from my iPhone
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