The Old Player’s Lament


I want to play
But the game ain’t what it used to be
Fingers just can’t find the spots
To make a fine instrument sing

But the game aint what it used to be
Maybe change is for the better
To make a fine instrument sing
a troubled song would be a weary blues

Maybe change is for the better
A dollar more — too rich for this blood
A troubled song would be a weary blues
Strummed by old bones on older roads

A dollar more — too rich for this blood
Saccharine sweet, molasses thick
Strummed by old bones on older roads
Paved with lust’s toxic kiss

Saccharine sweet, molasses thick
And yes, I want to play
Paved with lust’s toxic kiss
But fingers just can’t find the spots.

Categories: PoetryTags: , , , , ,

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