So this is how it goes, again. Familiar footsteps, or maybe more a lack thereof. A cool room, lowered lights and most of a bottle of something that burns just a little bit on the way down. Me and my love all around me, framed art and gigposters from yesteryear. Just blue jeans and an old t-shirt, barefoot and 3-days of beard on my face; unkempt and uncaring. I shouldn't be smoking but it feels good, maybe just a little, and the nicotine provides needed excuse from why my hands are really shaking. Stripped down sound, nothing but me and the acoustic, muting the new strings and trying not to let emotion betray my voice. Yeah, I'm singing for you, baby. So many songs you'll never hear.
