Teleradio.

Turned on the old amp with a click.
A low, droning buzz fills the room.

Ah, so familiar.

Hear the shuffle of my bare feet on the cold concrete floor.

Remember the times we had with this here amp,
and guitar, lo - how the sounds tore,
from our hearts out - taming poets and beasts.

We wrote the songs we knew would change the world,
And changed the songs we knew that sullied.

But what got into the water?
What took it all away?

Why is it that 100 miles away such a light,
Doesn't fade - but... beacons. Beckons.

The first few rings of strings sail through my mind,
And the memories crash into me with a screeching halt.

And after the dust settles - my vision is clear.

My vision ain't clear.