One eye on me, as he dazzles on the stage,
An enigma that is hidden behind the light,
silhouette of rhythm, swaying through my life,
like a figment of imagination before my sight.
His voice tells the story beyond the words sung,
I can feel the pain embedded in the lyrics rolling off his tongue.
Yet he stands tall, grooving to the beat of the melodic drum.
The man that he really is, hidden in each chord,
Every truth lives within the tunes that I adore,
I want to unravel the mysteries that have yet to been explored,
Learn the secrets of the man from before.
He uses his vintage looks to his advantage,
amidst his leather jacket and whiskey breath,
I uncover that his apperance protects him like a bandage.
Women lust over the confidence of the late 60s honey,
and dream to be the Cher to his Sonny.
Off the stage, behind the scenes, music man awakens the dream,
he strikes up a conversation with his charm,
playing interest in me and what I have to offer.
But, having been here before, I am cautious about future harm.
So, while he questions me about my relationship with all the bands,
I participate in his games, though much softer,
and I leave the scene before he can add me to his list of fans.
Save the tales of all your glory or your suspicions of my purpose,
with all my sincerity, trust me when I say my only love is the blues.
I am not after your fame, money, or anything within that circus.
My only aim is to save the music, not to become a muse.
Through this push and pull, he offers me a piece of his time.
Though it burns faster than a cheap cigarette,
we learn that we are both trying to save the glory of rock’ n’ roll.
He tells me stories of how he preserves his thoughts for the cassette,
leaving me infatuated by the fact we share the same goal.
My heart aches for a love that revolves around the passion of music,
my soul moves in melodies and is ignited by the sweet sounds of guitars,
From what you’ve shared, Music Man, you are a gem from the stars.
Still, you are an illusion behind the bright lights,
and I am just the person that sits at the computer and writes.
A fool is what I am, at best,
yet here I sit and communicate to you in art
In hopes that will lead you to my heart.
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