Practice Space

I miss playing rock n roll with my three best friends
Singing in a rock and roll band was all I had planned ahead
Turning up my amp so loud, all the walls were shaking
And then I went deaf for a minute... oh yeah!

But I'm stuck at home with an acoustic guitar
Trying not to bother the neighbors cause it's eight o'clock

Softer tunes or melancholie
Six strings and a small mahogany body
I call it country, call it what you will
I got no fucks to give, and I know
I'm no Willie or Waylon or Johnny
Not even Kris Kristofferson
They're the kind of tunes that I play
When I'm alone at home

When I've got something on my mind that won't go
When I feel like my guitar is the only one that truly knows me
I wanna turn it up so loud, I'm too stoned to be proud
But I can't now, we got kicked out of our practice space

I'm looking at the bottom of my coffee cup
With a four color ball point pen in my hand
Thinking about how I'm missing out on the biggest part of the plan
What are we doing next?
No shows, no band, no records
We'll go live in the suburb, I'll get all the rest I can
In the city I sure do not sleep
For once I'd rather be able to dream

When I've got something on my mind that won't go
When I feel like my guitar is the only one that truly knows me
I wanna turn it up so loud, I'm too stoned to be proud
But I can't now, we got kicked out of our practice space