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[Victim Of Love]

inspired by personal experience... I was one of those girls...




You walk pass him,
You hear the sound of his banjo,
He’s singing old songs,
You know the lyrics don’t you?
His hat is empty,
Because you all just pass...
He smiles at his friend on the drum,
As he hits a few chords,
The drummer knows the song,
And with a wink in his eye,
They play Bad Moon on The Rise,
No one knows his name,
Because no one ask,
But who could know,
That before his beard grew,
He was a doctor, well liked,
Now he’s here with his banjo,
And benji on drum, if he has the time...
His hope was four girls,
They were a bit drunk,
Wanting to dance so badly,
But no ID to get in,
So they took off their coats,
Stood away and started dancing,
A little bit away from him,
He smiled at them,
“Don’t be shy” he told them,
And soon they were next to him,
This time people stopped,
The crowd grew,
The girls giggled,
Wriggling their hips,
And the hat was soon filled...
But a string soon broke,
And the show was over now...
He gave the girls a hug,
And a share of the money,
The girls hugged him, thanked him,
For all the fun they had,
And they walked on.
He hoped the next day,
That they would come,
For Benji couldn’t make it,
But no they never came,
They were forever gone...