you know the sound

you know the sound

a box of nostalgia 

dropped to the ground

at your feet

play a high hat
light shuffle
put an echo
on that seagull
give the guitar
a little tremolo

like your 

fat lower lip

but don't 

give up the ship 

is that lipstick?

is it yours?

don't tell me

you have let him

out of doors?

don't let him

out of your sight

into something 

the size of 

this summer night

turn all the 

lights down low

someone play on

a lonely piano

now if you cry

it will echo (echo)

like your

thoughts tonight

this won't 

ever be right 

is that lipstick?

is it yours?

don't tell me

you have let him

out of doors?

don't let him

out of your sight

into something 

the size of 

this summer night

you know the sound

a box of nostalgia 

dropped to the ground

at your feet

[[ I started it this evening as a sort of a joke exercise -- I heard some Eagles song, so I decided to write one of those 1980s Don Henley songs about suddenly being old and nostalgic and stuff -- but then it turned into its own song. You could do it with a straight face or not. ]]