Both guitars run trebly. One noodles Over a groove. The other slushes chords. Then they switch. It’s quite an earnest affair. They close my eyes. I close their eyes. A horn Blares its inner air to brass. A girl shakes Her ass. Some dude does the same. The music’s Gone moot. Who doesn’t love it when the bass Doesn’t hide? When you can feel the trumpet peel Old oil and spit from deep down the empty Pit of a note or none or few? So don’t Give up on it yet: the scenario. You know that it’s just as tired of you As you are of it. Still, there’s much more to it Than that. It does not not get you quite wrong.