Wherefore Art Thou Gene Simmons

Her mother said beware of boys in bands

And certainly don't let them write you songs

While they'll come to you on bended knee, and kiss your

pretty hand

When the singing's done and the sun's up they'll be

gone

While her mother has a point, I might resent the

implication

That every boy who plays guitar plays women like Gene

Simmons

4,600 photographs stuck into a scrapbook beneath your

bed

4,599 broken hearts and one more your can't get out of

your head

While you swear you can't remember every pair of lips

you've kissed

Deep down you're scared there's one or two you might

have missed

Oh Chaim Witz, wherefore art thou?

Does your mother know who you are now?

Not that I can point a finger, I've been a sinner just

the same

I've fallen hard in love in motels and by sunrise lost

her name

I have crept out in the cold air and the smallest hours

to lead

And in the pockets of my jacket kept my last fidelities

A navy coin and a broken plastic compass that someone

gave me

That can't find north anymore

Just like me

Oh Gene Simmons, wherefore art thou?

I could sure use a hand on my shoulder now

When fidelity runs low, that there's the moment when

you choose

In life the things you love, there's some you keep and

some you lose