Reach out and touch someone, he’s from the 90s, lived by the motto, so he’s always reaching out to touch someone.
Hand of four fingers and a thumb, in the distance you see a washed up singer and sparkles of sun.
His recording days are behind him, so in this basement apartment, you’ll find him, without his band, without his men.
He was a backup anyways, anytime a relative lost their voice - he’d back up his kin.
Singin’ and swash bucklin’ with a mouthful of gin, until his smile became a cheesy grin.
Gin in his house, wore a mustache - whiskers like a mouse, didn’t shave, cuz he never left the house…