On a Wednesday afternoon,
Listening to Clapton play;
All I could think of,
Was that beautiful day.

The thrill is gone away,
Hear BB King sing today;
I’m free from your spell, hey!
Yet the scent lingers, here to stay.

With every note, every key,
And Mayer playing gravity;
Buckled knees, it was clear to me,
You’re my unfinished poem, oh baby!