a pushy mom can make you famous

you got a cute little smile
and a fake little grin
and a love for music
cuz you know there's somethin in it
but you don't know what it is just yet
and you'll probably never really know
if you keep at it this way

you gotta open up your love
you gotta open up your mind
you have to stop closing up
you have to let yourself unwind
or girl you'll never know love
and you'll never know music
the way God made it to be known

but still people love your every move
eyes watch as you sing a tune
cuz you've got somethin goin on
you're close, so close
but you have to find the truth

without truth,
music is a bunch of sound
without truth,
lyrics are just pretty vowels

a song with a stranger

I stepped into his bitingly cold garage with the grimace of an acquaintance alone with another acquaintance, both of us a bit unsure what to do with ourselves. We slid into the living room with ease and began to talk. We didn’t stop. We had dinner, and talked more. After several hours we decided to get down to business and play our music. We did little of that, and had trouble focusing. My melodies were elastic, and his guitar playing was structured. To me it was all about boys, and I have no idea what it was about to him. The song, that is. That’s the problem. I need to learn to ask more, rather than expect to be told.