Dear Arty (second message in a bottle)

Dear Arty, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad, I just think it's fucked up you don't answer crew
If you didn't want to talk to me outside the tavern, you didn't have to
But you coulda signed an autograph for Eenie,
That's Moe's little brother, man, he's only six years old
We waited in the blisterin' cold for you, for four hours, and you just said, "no"
That's pretty shitty, man, you're like his fuckin' idol
He wants to be just like you, man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad, though I just don't like bein' lied to
Remember when we met in Starkwood? You said if I'd write you, you would write back
See, I'm just like you in a way: I never knew my father neither
He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her
I can relate to what you're sayin' in your songs
So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put 'em on
'Cause I don't really got shit else, so that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo with your name across the chest
Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds
It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
See, everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it
My captain's jealous 'cause I talk about you 24/7
But she don't know you like I know you, Arty, no one does
She don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up
You gotta call me, man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, Martin—P.S. We should be together too