Wednesday Words
Below is the first verse of my song called Valentine’s Day Massacre.
It was back in 1981
I was waiting on a bus
You came up to me and you said, hello
I think it was a Thursday
A few weeks later I moved in with you
Into your apartment over on 4th Ave
This verse has always made me feel weird. I was not old enough in 1981 to be waiting on a bus or in a romantic relationship with someone that I met at a bus stop. I don’t know why I picked that year. I also don’t know why it bothers me so much. The song is honest and sincere and true. The dates have been changed to protect the innocent. An artist can be authentic without being accurate. The facts don’t have to be perfect to tell a good story.
I never had a chicken named Martha.
I did get a rhythm stuck in my head that was inspired by a bandsaw. That part is true but I never sweep the garage.
I am doubtful that grandma went commando on laundry day. If she did, I know nothing about it.
I don’t have an Uncle Leroy.
I’ve never fallen in love at a bus stop.
