I am from music at volumes so high
From the feelings of all that make you sigh

I am from hours of bright, hot lights
And the packing of instruments at the end of the night

I am from guitar books scattered across the floor
Stacked so high that you can't open the door

I am from dozens of picks in a plastic container
But not from dreams that go down the drainer

I am from lyrics sprawled across the page
At the end of the day, I am still the same age