The Music Died

A long, long time ago, I could still recall, how a song could make ‘em cry—shake the hall! I wrote my heart to keep the flame alive, now you’re thumbin’ past—watch my spirit dive! I was a kid with a pen and a lonesome chord, Dreamin’ by the tracks where the freight trains roared. The sock hop buzzed, the records spun gold, Every line I wrote was a story told. But now the air’s gone cold, the melody’s thin, You “like” my verse ‘fore it sinks in. Thirty seconds pass, you’re a fleeting spark, “Great song,” you type—leave me in the dark. The gym’s long shut, the streamers fall, I’m writin’ for a world that don’t recall. Your thumbs are quick, but your heart’s asleep, A shallow nod while my soul runs deep. Did I reach you once? Did you feel the sound? Thirty ticks in, you’re nowhere around! I pour my days, but you miss the tune, Your empty praise is my ruin’s swoon! So bye-bye, Miss American Pie! (Crowd: Bye-bye…) Drove my Chevy, but the levee’s dry! (Echo: Dry…) Thirty seconds flat, you’ve skipped my cry, I’m singin’ for the day the music died! Did you dance that night when the rhythm flowed, Or just graze my words on a screen’s cold road? The bandstand glowed with a summer’s grace, Every note I scratched found a human face. Now you’re scrollin’ fast, no time to stay, Thirty beats ‘fore you drift away. “Love this,” you toss, but it’s all a game, Never hearin’ the hurt in my refrain. The bleachers rot, the lights go dim, I’m writin’ for ghosts who’d sing with him. Your “like”’s a flicker, a cheap disguise, A hollow cheer as my echo dies. Did I reach you once? Did you feel the sound? Thirty ticks in, you’re nowhere around! I pour my days, but you miss the tune, Your empty praise is my ruin’s swoon! So bye-bye, Miss American Pie! (Bye-bye…) Drove my Chevy, but the levee’s dry! (Dry…dry.....dry) Thirty seconds flat, you’ve skipped my cry, I’m singin’ for the day the music died! The day my song fell, I stood alone, A scribbler lost on a gravel throne. The quartet sang ‘neath a soda-pop sky, But you swapped my soul for a quick thumbs high. The angels hushed in a malt shop’s gleam, While your clicks drown out my fading dream. Did the rhythm break, or the spirit flee? The silence grows where you won’t see me. I gave my all to a page of blue, But thirty ticks—you’re ramblin’ through! I met a girl who knew my every line, Sang it back with a tear and a glass of wine. The prom night roared, the stars burned bright, Now it’s thirty ticks ‘fore you’re outta sight. “Cool vibe,” you drop with a vacant stare, Never catchin’ the weight I bear. The ballroom’s dust, the banners fray, I’m writin’ for hearts that slipped away. The AM dial sang a rebel’s lore, But your screen’s a wall I can’t ignore. I ain’t no spark for your scrollin’ rush, I sing for the ones who’d feel the hush. So bye-bye, Miss American Pie! (Bye-bye…) Drove my Chevy, but the levee’s dry! (Dry…) (dry) (dry) Thirty seconds flat, you’ve skipped my cry, I’m singin’ for the day the music died! The levee’s cracked, the echoes stall, A lonesome song through a curtain call. I’ll write these tales ‘til the heavens weep, For the few who’d linger, not just sweep. Your likes are wind, your words collapse, Fadin’ fast on a trail of scraps. The music’s gone, the night’s my guide, I’ll sing for the day it all died.