*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/980392
Rated: GC · Book · Music · #2218303
Where music moves me. Here are my stories. Album #1
#980392 added April 6, 2020 at 2:34pm
Restrictions: None
Rock n Roll Singer

"Rock 'N' Roll Singer"

My Daddy was workin' nine to five
When my Momma was havin' me
By the time I was half alive
They knew what I was gonna be
But I left school and grew my hair
They didn't understand
They wanted me to be respected as
A doctor or a lawyer man
(But I had other plans)

Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll star
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
I'm gonna be a rock 'n' roll,
A rock 'n' roll star

Well I worked real hard and bought myself
A rock 'n' roll guitar
I gotta be on top some day
I wanna be a star
I can see my name in lights
And I can see the queue
I got the devil in my blood
Tellin' me what to do
(And I'm all ears)

Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll star
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
I'm gonna be a rock 'n' roll,
A rock 'n' roll star
(I hear it pays well)

Well you can stick your nine to five livin'
And your collar and your tie
You can stick your moral standards
'Cause it's all a dirty lie
You can stick your golden handshake
And you can stick your silly rules
And all the other shit
That you teach to kids in school
('Cause I ain't no fool)

Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
I'm gonna be a rock 'n' roll star
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
I'm gonna be a rock 'n' roll
A rock 'n' roll star

Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll star
Gonna be a rock 'n' roll singer
I'm gonna be a rock 'n' roll
A rock 'n' roll star
Yes I are!



*Bullet**Music1**Bullet**Music2**Bullet**Music1**Bullet**Music2**Bullet**Music1**Bullet**Music2**Bullet*

Oxygen


I tossed my backpack in the back of the car and it tumbles with the Berkeley logo side up. Pulling the hairband out of my hair, I shake out the long blond strands and snug a baseball cap on my head. Jumping in the driver's seat, I pause taking a deep breath. I can't breathe in there. Classes smother me every day. It's not a question of my intelligence, but more of it not being my scene.

The parents are paying my way and every day it makes me feel guilty. Dad wants me at the firm, and Mom wants whatever Dad wants. She calls me all the time to make sure I'm going to classes and eating right. And asks me if I got a haircut. She wasn't happy seeing how long it had grown last time I visited. I love them - but again, I can't breathe. Being a lawyer isn't what I want. It's never been what I want. Dad wants me to have everything. Wants me to follow his dream. They always shut me down when I was practicing in the garage with my friends. Then I had to quit the band to go to school in California.

I pull in next to the warehouse where we practice. The guys are there, I can hear them tuning before I open the door. I grab my guitar after greeting everyone, then plug in and turn on. It's the moment I come alive. I can breathe. I can move. Everything comes loose and color is brighter. We work our way through the song list. It's all good. We're smiling because we know it.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Everything gets put away and I head home. A cold beer and chilling in front of the TV is the extent of my plans.

The next day I'm strung so tight I can't sit still. The venue calls and confirms we're on.

Later, when we're just off stage, ready to do our gig - it hits me. This is it. This is a giant step to the big time. This is where all the managers and producers hang out and listen.

I look at my buddy. "James, I can't believe this. I'm tripping." When his band lost the lead singer, he mentioned it in an offhand comment because he knew I played guitar. Next thing you know, I'm trying out and they want me in the band. And they're good. Really good.

"I know, man! I feel like I could piss myself!" He's laughing, jumping up and down.

I'm so light. So full of brightness. I look at our group and scream over the intro applause. "Let's do this!" We run onto stage and grab our gear. The first beats of the drums, the first notes of the music and I grind up to the mic and sing. This is it, I can breathe, my entire body is music. I writhe, looking at my band-mates and feed off them. It's THE perfect set and at the perfect time. Someone must be smiling down on us.

We take a short intermission and our manager bursts into the dressing room. "I'm getting a lot of interest. These guys all asked for my card. I think we've got a big step in the door." He high fives Stephan the drummer. I won't, I'm not inviting bad luck. It's my thing.

Back out on stage, it ramps up even further. I'm singing pitch perfect and my body feels like hot lava. It feels like there's more oxygen on stage and I open up inside. Jeremy and I sync our moves as we play our guitars. I know how hot that looks from the audience, I know they're all feeling it. It's the day we all dream of.

And later, when we're drooped all over the furniture in the dressing room, completely exhausted and sucking wind, the manager comes in with a crazy serious look on his face. My heart leaps. "Guys, I just made the deal of a lifetime. A LIFETIME!" He freaks and dances around the room while his tie flies around. We look at each other, smiles growing wide. "They want you in studio, like yesterday!"

We're jumping up, yelling, hugging and shouting. The room is nuts. We made it to the big time! I feel like I'm in a dream, like it's a movie rolling around me.

Then I realize, I'm gonna have to tell the parents. The degree is going to have to wait. This is the dream.




758 words





© Copyright 2020 Legerdemain (UN: legerdemain at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Legerdemain has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/980392