Last song

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[Verse 1]
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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[Chorus]
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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[Verse 2]
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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[Chorus]
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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[Bridge – half-spoken, with a chuckle]
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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[Final Chorus – full send with the band kickin’ in]
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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[Final Tag – spoken, fading out over last strum]
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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Rustic Bluegrass with Banjo, Fiddle, and Foot-Tapping Rhythm