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It's Happening Right Here Poem

It's Happening Right Here
by David Michael Jackson

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Had a belly full of whiskey,
had a head full of gin,
I couldn't say where I was coming from,
couldn't say where I'd been.
I tell you this for certain,
you can call me sublime.
Ain't no heaven in a bottle.
It'll get you every time.
Now you say your baby left you
and there's hell for you to pay
and your landlord he comes calling
 in the heat of the day,
and the night it goes a running
like a hot rod Ford
and your car,
it's a sitting on
I Twenty Four.

Well I've had some hard times
and you've had some too
and we'll buckle up our seatbelts
and quit smoking too.
So pickup your guitar
and your blue sweade shoes.
When the towtruck
is rolling down
I Twenty Four
we'll be picking
we'll be grinning
we'll be stomping the floor.
So turn up the volume
and let's get in gear.
There's a party tonight
and it's happening right here
It's happening right here
It's happening right here

It's Happening Right Here Copyright 1999, David Michael Jackson



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