Much Ado About Nothing

Don't ask me why my head is filled with music
for in honest I do not know
I guess that is much better
then it being filled with cookie dough
 
It wasn't always like this
I really can attest
and sometimes when I answer questions with lyrics
my friends may consider me a pest
 
Can remember my house was always filled with recordings and such
Pops had his jazz and blues, the cool kind
stuff that though legal  
could really blow one's mind
 
Not by excessive words and lyrics to the end
a wall of sound made by horns, drums, stand up basses and such
so many cloud and colors melding and going solo
seemingly so close to your ears to be touched
 
Mom jammed with folk and soul while she made dinner
oh yes she even admitted that she had he loves
partial to the great crooners
they could be proper or get dirty and take off the gloves
 
Then there was big brother
the funk mixed with more modern jazz had his ear
and when he picked up his trombone
you always knew live music was indeed dear
 
In my teens I discovered the comfort
of playing my worries away
at the very least a mood enhancer
keeping depression away
 
Yes there was another motive
which may indeed be a hurdle to romance
a superior dancer never will I be
unless comedy is needed in a glance
 
On a cold winter's night when my thoughts need flexing
the guitar is a partner with closed lips
any speed can be engaged and any style
one big gulp or with many small sips
 
When the beat is needed I can strap on the monster
four strings for booming or playing smooth
by the time done my demons have been exercised  
vanquished forever is that internal fued
 
So don't get into Freud's many musings  
about everything tied to sex and that rage
just give me the radio or an instrument
like a classic write I will enjoy page after page