Air Guitar

Standing alone in front of the mirror,
Looking again to see if it’s grown bigger.
I pucker my lips, and wiggle my pelvis,
With hairbrush mic — I think I am Elvis,
as I play my air-guitar,
strumming the strings,
what pleasure it brings,
playing my air-guitar.

Hours it took to get right the quiff,
Thrash the plectrum for the opening riff.
After I get myself into that stance,
Wiggling my butt, I then start to dance.
as I play my air-guitar,
twanging the strings,
what pleasure it brings,
playing my air-guitar.

Both my arms are flailing through the air,
As I sing out loudly, “Baby I don’t care”.
I pucker my lip and then shake my pelvis,
With brush mic in my hand I think I am Elvis,
as I play my air-guitar,
what pleasure it brings,
as I twang at the strings,
playing my air-guitar.