Strum on, strum on, strum on
Guitar strings vibrating
To the sounds of classic rock
Rock-steady, solidarity in tune
with warped wavelengths,
they stretch for miles long
my ears plunge in ecstasy
as your fingers play the riffs
and under the glaring spotlight,
your face illuminates
beads of sweat dot your forehead
strumming still, until CLASH! BANG! BOOM!
Your guitar! A limp body of hard maple wood,
splintered and beaten to bits
the crowd roars louder, drowning out
my cries for the guitar’s well-being
you say “what’s the deal?”
strum on, strum on, strum on
with nothing to strum
and so I hum the remaining measures of
a masterpiece YOU have started
my amateur musical capabilities
ramble on and on until
the next guitarist takes the stage
and the vicious cycle repeats itself.