“What Does Motown Spell Again?”

When I was 20 I smelled like grit. Now I’m 80 and I smell like apples.

I used to work in motown

I wish I could say that I’m through

But I don’t care.

I made it this far

I made it to 80.

Sitting In this chair,

In this evening of chill

This evening of pills and various liquor,

Liquor’s different from back then.

This evening of television and phones,

An endless wheel of mediocrity,

Putting myself through endless questions

The interviewers wouldn't ask me.

What about this

What is a 20 something dream?

Well, I wrote songs.

Meetings on meetings to keep the wheel turning.

As much as you can take.

For us, work spelled love.

Never telling anyone that they were all I needed

All I needed to get by

The supreme feeling

Of then

being called “my girl”.

Sunshine shining on not such a cloudy day

Because he was there

When the gray started sprinkling through my hair.

Life was starting to pass

Watching everything change in the blink of an eye

New trends

New people

New ideas

But lazy people.

They will never know what it is like

To answer!

What is busting your ass?

Now at home, family sees, family hurts

So where do you run to

If your family can’t remember your face

Run away, run away, run away

To an ocean

Close enough

A river with gray skies

Salty food

Ice cream

Drinks offered at two in the afternoon

Bottoms up at 60

It’s five o’ clock somewhere

This chair I sit in

I tip back the glass

80 to the life I’ve led

60 and waking up in a bed on the water

With my eyes still on that 20 something dream.

Peace of mind comes when you don’t think of it

Now my daughter asks the best question

What do you want?

“I need you to listen to Motown, sweetie.”

By Henry Foster and Chinell DeVaughn