*inspired by @gazplend indie rock forever.
Vintage guitars cry and howl sounds that soothe my brain.
My body feels the music, so I cant feel the rain.
Trigger fingers are itchy, they want to jam.
Sit and strum chords with unknown indie bands.
Boho girls so close that I can smell their perfume.
Sat chain smoking in backstage rooms.
Illegible numbers scrawled on warm sweaty skin.
Unfamiliar hands push and pull and my head starts to spin.
Cheap beer is on tap but we brought our own liquor.
The rhythm in our brains makes us all drunk quicker.
Glass bottles left empty, they've all been drained.
Vision now blurred from clouds of mary jane.
My friends are passed out from the inevitable crash landing.
I've been up for too many hours, but I'm still standing.
People flock forward in hazardous formations.
I plant my feet and feel the earths vibrations.
Night falls and bass guitars bellow.
I lay back, that's why they call me mellow yellow.
Sun rises and I'm feeling worse for wear.
I send a message up to Jack, man I wish you were here.
Every riff I heard is etched somewhere on my soul.
I'll recreate them back in London on days long and cold.
The killers sang it once, and I was already sold.
Til I collapse, it's glamorous indie rock & roll.
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