Last song

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I got nine songs in my pocket, nine tales I done told

’Bout outhouses, beers, and festivals bold

But I’m sittin’ here pickin’ with a problem so fine

Can’t make a ten-track album if I stop at nine!

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So I’m writin’ a song ’bout not havin’ a song

’Cause nine ain’t right and ten ain’t wrong

I need a tenth track, so I’m makin’ it now

With banjos and logic that barely allow

This here tune to count as one—

But hell, now I got ten, so I guess I’m done!

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I tried writin’ 'bout whiskey, I tried writin’ 'bout trucks

Even thought real hard 'bout them port-a-potty funks

But the muse she was gone, like a breeze through the night

So I wrote a tune 'bout my lyrical plight

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Yeah I’m singin’ a song ’bout the song that I lack

A musical patch on my ten-track track

Might not win Grammys, might not go far

But it sure as hell fills that last slot on the chart

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Now some folks write about heartbreak and pain

But I wrote this sucker just to fill in the lane

It’s honest, it’s dumb, it’s got rhythm and rhyme

And it helps me sleep knowin’ I reached song number nine...

Plus one.

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I’m singin’ the song that wasn’t supposed to be

But now it’s a part of my discography

It’s a loophole ballad, a meta refrain

A filler that’s realer than half my brain

So slap the strings and pour a dram—

‘Cause the 10th damn song is this one, fam!

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And next time?

I think I’ll write this one first...

just so I don’t run into this problem again.

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