There are fifty three million
Three hundred, ten thousand,
Two hundred and one
Struggling songwriters out there
Touring Indie
Trying to make it to number one….

But hey I just made up that number
right out of my weary head
There are probably more
than that figure I said,
Which is why I ought to be
out selling dope instead.

But I’m just frustrated
cause my songs all sit
In the shitter on Twitter
leaving me as the twit
The only face on my
face book who is
listening to me
Is an old ex-girlfriend
whose missing me,

I’m just screaming
in the midst of millions
Can you hear me now?????
My mike’s an plastic heer cup
I ought to give it all up
And do some painting for a while.
All my stats are anorexic
I miss the old days
when we used to be
Doing studio auditions
And touring endlessly.

All the concert venues are dying
The Bands can’t get the crowds….
And CD’s have all become passé
most Folks just download now.
The attention span of a modern listener
Is twenty seconds or so….

I’m just screaming
in the midst of Billions
Can you hear me now????
My mike’s a plastic beer cup
I ought to give it all up
And do some painting for a while.
All my stats are anorexic
I miss the old days when we used to be
Doing studio auditions then recording
And touring endlessly.

Please forgive me for ranting,
I have known some success
It’s been a helluva ride,
But the song about Buddy Holly
Is not the day that the music died,
Cause it’s happening now
And pretty soon you’ll know how
It feels when rigor mortis sets in
When the bands all stop touring
when it’s no longer alluring
tothe lack of
money they take in.

As songwriters all retire
When their Dreams can’t be reality.,
no more musicality

Just Screaming in the
masses of Billions
Can you hear me Now????????

Art~Whimsically Yours studio
Matthew F. Blowers III -(C)-2016
Some pics credited to Pixabay.com