1970’s Dreamin’ 🥃

I met him under a California sun. His voice took me back to a place I never knew existed. He drowned himself in music; consumed without delusion.

His life was like a fine tune– 1970’s dreamin’. His cup of coffee replaced with bourbon at dawn and his threads always matched his mood. Well, he looks like he walked straight out of a Coppola film. And every time I saw him,  I swear, he took my breath away. And every time he held me he whispered, “you are my dream baby.”

Every night we’ll go out and he’ll be surrounded by glamour. I see he’s admired and inspired. Although I am next to him I am afraid to say a word. Well, I came to realize he lived a double life and that’s when I felt like his shadow. I knew then that he hated everyone, but wanted everyone to love him. He was never mine. He was no ones, and no one was his, but his music.


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