Highway run, into the midnight sun

When you sing the opening lyrics to Journey’s Faithfully, it sounds cool. Saying the lyrics– not so much. I suppose this is the case with all song lyrics.

For whatever reasons unknown to me, I wake up with this song in my head, a lot. I visualize the Greyhound bus rolling along the highway, Steve Perry leaning wistfully into the window’s reflection. I blame it on the commute, I-90 and drone of semi-trucks.  The Usual Suspects.

As I packed lunch at the kitchen corner I thought about a low-grade argument I had with the Target stockroom team leader about the 80s feathered-hairband. I ticked off a few songs that I thought really sucked – particularly that one where the guy plays the keyboard nailed to the side of a metal shed. I believe it was Separate Ways. He just shook his head and told me I was woefully wrong.

I thought again and fired off , Oh Sherrie. Surely I had him. No one can refute the horror of that song.

He paused. Shook his head in agreement and said, “Yes. That is truly a terrible song, but that’s Steve Perry, not Journey.

What could I say?

In case you have forgotten. Hairspray and brush not included:

God, that’s funny. So wrong and so good.

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