Another writer gave his pen to me,
Said he wanted to “swap energy”.
So I took his and he took mine,
And I tried to imagine all the things it’d seen.
What kind of clubs had it been in.
What words had it written.
Was there ever a time when he
Wished it wasn’t missing?
Where had it been. Was there ever
A city that us two had visited?
Or had the same spot in a place
Where the only thing to do was write,
And right we were, because apparently
Our pens weren’t just similar.
Identical, the model, and each had
Ink drained like a number of bottles.
How many things had burned in his mind,
When he whipped it out and uncapped
And set to immortalize – it on paper,
And how long later did I see
A pen sitting on the counter
When I said to he,
“I’ve got one just like it”
And he said “We should swap,
‘Cause I’d like to have your energy
Quite a lot”.
So a pen was pocketed, but for once,
Not my own.
So I’ll sit down and write a song
And put on a little show
Using that energy he mentioned.
This time not Red Bull, but a power.
Going to turn it to eleven
With his trusty Pilot V7.