Life Is Funky Music

Today I’m often right because my past was often wrong

Like drying paint, my lessons always seemed to take too long

My early years were blizzards simply hanging on for Spring

My choices were the accident, the consequence, my sling

Looking back, each lesson was a bitter pill I had

Each, a lot like methadone, the aftertaste was bad

My “music” had no rhythm as I butchered every chord

But soon I found the harmony, I shot and finally scored

My life was “Heavy Metal,” and I still had much to prove

But I kept on keeping on until I found my funky groove