Analysis of No title

60's classics traveling through the air vents of my room.
I swear I could hear the delay in the time
It took the melodies from that hand painted Gibson,
To reach my cozy Pacers-themed bedroom.
Each note amplified by the inner vents,
and muffled by the carpet.
A concert in my room.
Every Thursday night, a concert blaring from my vents.
My lullabies were Chicago and The Doors.
George Harrison and Roger Daltry told me bedtime stories.
This is the sound I grew up on.