She Said (Old T-shirt) (song)

Alright. I’ve done this before with “We Let Billy Drive the Car”, my little thing about a heist gone awry from September of 2020, so I thought I’d give it another whirl.

Find an instrumental at my work production music site that I like and see if I can write something to it, the only difference here being that that “Billy” song story had already been kinda rattlin’ around my head for a quite a while. This one? Not so much. I started only with “She said” a couple of days ago and just went from there with the instrumental tonight.

She said where have you been because ya seem lost

Feel like I’m living a fever dream but at what cost

Where you’re here one day then gone the next is this a test

I’m even wearing that old T-shirt that you liked the best

But is it yours or mine I’m not quite sure

Did I even one time even know this band I forget the tour

Found it on the floor newly washed I’m sure I think it’s yours

But you’re somewhere gone I think I must report you lost

We used to be on page in the same book

And you would give me looks to make me bend around with you

And send me stars as dots to connect of how you and I were them

Until we reached the moon no lookin’ back just … postcards to send 

She said we sillied with the best of them

Made others envy green when they couldn’t contend with us they bled

That green and not just in the month of March is what they jigged

You’d make us angry year round if we could only ever be mad at you …

But you’re missing now … she said

What’s happened to you … where is your head

But you’re missing now … she said

What place do you go … one that isn’t our stead

You’re missing now … she said

Is it a place where I can bring you back now from the dead

———-

I guess this T-Shirt’s mine now is what she says

I think I might just even have to wear it to bed

But not with thoughts of you if that’s somehow in your head

No I won’t be wearin’ it long … that’s what he said

No it’ll hit the floor running as he gives me looks   

To bend around with him in writing pages fresh book

And he sends me new stars on new trips to the moon

Where all is small, lost is not found

We’ll send postcards soon

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