• Play that guitar pretty lady
    The smoke from your cigarette smells like heaven
    It burns so slow, slowly
    Sing softly
    Smile gently
    And pick those strings
    Tonight, the moon is ours
    And so are the stars
    The sky, the Earth, the music
    Yes honey, it’s ours
    Your eyes are like whole oceans
    And your hair so gold, only a fool could love
    Let us lay in our philosophies
    And laugh off our hypocrisies
    ‘Cause little things don’t matter now that we exist
    So bend those vocal chords and whistle as you strum mine
    The moon reflects off the glossy wood of your instrument
    And the light from the fire in my palm dances on your face
    Please, let us stay in this place
    In this moment, and never leave
    Hold my hand and sing with me
    Play that guitar pretty lady
    Let’s sing of how we have turned ourselves into demons
    Or how we wish to have our ashes spread from an aeroplane over the sea
    Never again will the radio laugh at us behind our backs
    No, we stand together and tell the masses to kiss our asses
    Because there ain’t nothin’ like the love for music
    No matter how mad or genius we are
    No matter how much of a hipster that makes us for liking something different
    For not wanting to be a robot in a robot factory
    Chewed up and spit out by the machine
    Naw, now our plates are clean
    We have eaten up everything there is to say
    So the only thing left to do is play
    Play that guitar pretty lady, play

    (c) Curtis Davis