Counting down his favourite tunes.
Hair grows long as do finger callauses.
The guitar crops and prunes,
some old classic cover every band plays.
Attitude is 90% authenticity is ten.
His balding sporty mogul wannabe manager says.
Get out there and sell the image, imagine.
Studios can make a turd sound good and just may...
Make you the next Bon jo vi blossom legend.
Your fortune five million agent wants what´s best.
His spiels and speeches are only half pretend.
And that´s good apples since rock regressed.
Yes wannabe rockstar posing with your pick in mouth!
The first hundred hairs on your upper chest bare.
You see yourself as a young skynard in the south.
As you attempt to free the bird shaped like pear.
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