Night Ranger

From the novel “Pages From The Bottom Drawer” by C. Derick Miller

(out of print now)

Night Ranger
The melodies are calling him
The songs of yesterday
Where are the guitar warriors?
Are they truly gone to stay?
A young boy dreams of greatness
His head rests on folded hands
Headphones on his water bed
Not knowing life’s demands
The year is nineteen eighty-eight
High school his only fear
Knows not the joy of women
And he’s never tasted beer
The lawn, his only nemesis
Two buttons on his game
From point to point on skateboard
With no body aches or pains
He’s never getting married
And he’s never having kids
No plans accepting failure
Taking only highest bids
The world will be his oyster
Having steak for every meal
The cops won’t catch his Mustang
And he’ll make his bullies kneel
The doubters turn believers
And the haters show him love
The masses all will shout his name
Hands high to him above
Fifteen and an immortal
Because mirrors never lie
He launches fists into the air
Full speed toward the sky
Then snaps of sudden waking
How the decades came and went
He never got his Mustang
And his money’s all been spent
He never learned to play guitar
And never learned to fly
He’s scared to touch the skateboard
Because no one wants to die
He never took his band on tour
No riches trading stocks
Life was an angry river
And he hit most of the rocks
He reaches for his headphones
With closed eyes, his smile burns
The guitar rings, the angel sings
Fifteen, his soul returns…

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