A Little Faster, Grandma
A little faster, Grandma;
Let the steam fly
off my strings.
It’s all in my head;
the sheet on the bed,
pillow under my neck.
A little faster, Grandma;
we may never
speak of this again.
You’re tired and sleepy,
but I’m dreaming up
whole and half-notes.
A little faster, Grandma;
the brass is percolating,
I am composing.
Your wrinkles not ironed,
however I iron out
the rhythm and time.
A little faster, Grandma;
we’re not at a slow pace,
as the lyrics strum cheek to cheek.
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