it made an awesome racket as I dashed it on the floor
and threw the pieces into the stairwell
the guitar sighed and just generally fell
with heaviness and sadness as well
you wait all your life for a break to come
and then none come at once
so you just bumble along
waiting and waiting and waiting
all the writers are packed away
and the movers and shakers too
and every season is the same
when you long for the Dharma Bums
instead of the Portsmouth Blues
the hot empty roads of America
leaving an impression on any young heart
the day I finally realised it was so dead
and so gone
I smashed everything apart
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