12/12/13 Torn Chords Torn Friends

We’d run, jump
Swing and dance
When we used to play together
We’d skip a beat and try to find it
Find ourselves in the lyrics
Find the meaning in the words we wrote last week
Clearly a lost cause

Until Joffery’d come over
Hear our tune and tell us
We’re all fuck’d in th’ead
He’d ask to hear it again
and mumble to himself about our ‘masterpiece’
Or maybe about the masterpiece he was writing

Joffery could play piano
A fuck lot that’d do in our band
He never wanted fame or fortune anyway
Never chased the girls
Always saw a group of immature brits
A bunch of unsophisticated and untalented swine
Maybe that’s why he never wanted his name in the cover book

Each practice we’d always be plastered
And he’d ask us to quit
While he had a cig in his mouth
We’d run, jump
Swing and dance
Sing his lyrics out of key
Sometimes he didn’t seem to mind
Every once in a while a foot would land on a cord
Tear it out of the input and hear the music gods screech
The bunch of us didn’t deserve the gear we had
We considered them tools or friends
Good enough to hide our lack of talent
Just a bunch of big boys and their toys in the end

We owe so much to Joffery
Probably the only one with talent among us fools
He kept the joy in our lyrics
And I remember his face
A cig hanging out his mouth
Whenever I sing his songs
Now just alone with my acoustic
Sometimes I imagine him playing piano chords
No more running, jumping
Swinging or dancing
Joffery kept the band together
Without him we really weren’t going anywhere
Without Joffery we lost our heads


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