These are not my legs
These are pins and record needles

This is not my arm
But I’ll raise it to the ceiling
And tell you to turn it up
Because this music is turning me on

These are not my hands but I still need them to play

These aren’t my back muscles
But I need to stand up straight
And hold my head up way too high
Like a giraffe or a Rasta or something else
Exotic with its head in the clouds

This is not my crowd
But I tell them to put one hand in the air
If getting our rock on
Is getting their rocks off

The clock is ticking
So let’s tock
Face-to-face-to-empty-space
I don’t update regularly and I don’t tweet truth
I sweet tooth like I am that antler
An operative with no handler
Freeing myself with a laser pen
Writing my name on the moon
Signing your ass with a Sharpie

Don’t fall asleep with your shoes on
Because we plan to rock your socks off
And if you sleepwalk with no socks
Your feet will stink

But these are not your feet
So get off of them
Get up, get all the way up to the ceiling
Get pushed into the cracks in the paint
Kick away cobwebs
And dance circles around busted light bulbs

You’re never too big to be hoisted up and paraded around the room
I can count more strong young men here than chair legs
You’re never too old to rock ‘til you drop
Just prepare to drop early enough for it to kick in before bed

Old Man Galapagos Tortoise
Is 4000 years old and he’s never left the rock
He’s had the same girl for centuries
And he’s walked a path into covered-wagon-wheel-ruts

And that sounds like a great way to live