Freeway and the Vin Numbers

CHAPTER 23: THE SONG DOESN'T REMAIN THE SAME

  Vincent

  It was too frigging cold to hang out on Freeway’s porch and the heat didn’t work very well at his place, so I invited him over to my mother’s house. She was still long gone and not answering her cell phone at the moment. Buck drove Freeway over in the Shaggin’ Dragon Paddy Wagon and I ushered them into the living room. Buck passed out some beers from the blue cooler he brought with him and I got them up to speed on all of my shocking news. They mostly sat in awe, just as Saturn had done.

  “This is gonna be some magazine article,” Buck said.

  “We gotta change the lyrics to 'Uncle Was A Gravestone,' I guess,” Freeway mused.

  “Get this, Brad from Power Chord called me a little while ago and he said they’re sending up a photographer to get a shot of me by my uncle’s gravestone tomorrow,” I said.

  “No shit?” Buck said.

  “That’s not all,” I said. “Freeway, they want a shot of you jamming on the porch overlooking I-95, too. Plus they already got some pics of us performing live that Al gave them.”

  “Boys, it looks like we’re going to be famous,” Buck said, grinning and reveling in the fact that he really was reliving his youth in such exciting fashion.

  “I can’t wait to start the tour, man,” Freeway said, taking a sip of his beer. “That’s going be crazy.”

  “Yeah, Al said we’re going to kick it off in Miami on my birthday in May and then play a bunch of clubs up the Atlantic Coast before we finish up in Providence and Boston,” I said.

  “Rock and roll!” Buck shouted, pounding the rest of his beer and high-fiving me and Freeway.

  “I’ve been working on some new lyrics for ‘Papa Was A Gravestone’ given the latest developments,” I told them.

  “The truth will set you free, man,” Freeway said. “It’s all about musical integrity and that’s always been your song. We’ll back you up wherever you want to take it.”

  “Thanks Freeway,” I said. “I just can’t sing it the same way anymore. I gotta change it up a little.”

  “Can you give us a preview?” Buck asked.

  “I would keep most of it the same until the last third of the song because both parts are still real to me, but the last part is what’s most real now,” I explained.

  “Sing the last part, man,” Freeway requested.

  So I did.

  “Papa was a gravestone

  Until the other day

  When the truth came out

  That my mother was a liar

  And the mobster was a crier

  But nobody’s perfect

  Certainly not me

  So we try to forgive

  While we never forget

  Yeah, it’s a whole new day

  And I’m no longer stuck on yesterday

  Just trying to move forward

  And count my blessings

  My papa’s alive

  What a surprise

  Just goes to show

  There’s a slice of hope

  With every sunrise.”

  Buck and Freeway clapped while I sheepishly chugged my beer.

  Then Buck thought of Led Zeppelin and their hit “The Song Remains The Same” off the 1973 album “Houses of the Holy.”

  “Led Zep has ‘The Song Remains The Same’ and we’ve got ‘The Song Doesn’t Remain The Same,’” the bald bookie drummer pointed out to the amusement of us all.