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About Lyon

But yo, it’s funny too—found this one spot, neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk, “Girls Girls Girls.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, right, more like ghosts.” Walked in, and this lady—prolly 40 but lookin’ 60—gives me the eye. “What you want, big man?” I’m laughin’ inside, ‘cause she’s playin’ me like I’m some rich bastard. Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“We’re not from here”—‘cause I felt outta place, man. Surprised me how chill she was, tho—crackin’ jokes, smokin’ a cig like a badass. Kinda made me happy, seein’ her own it.

Finally, it was time for the gig. I’m pumped, but also nervous. The amphitheater is packed! I step on stage, and the crowd goes wild. I start playing, and it’s like magic. The energy is insane! I’m pouring my heart out, and then—boom! My guitar string snaps. Seriously? Right in the middle of my solo! I just laughed it off, made a joke about it. “Guess my guitar wanted a break!” The crowd loved it.

Crozes-Hermitage is Edging up that hill