the crying guitars wept up by the mid 20th century
will rail against the dyeing of the fleeting light
i’m on tour just like i dreamed when i was kid little lamb
when i was jung oh so long ago so many moons and dunes after
staying in hotels
gliding through the american summer days like a dream
i meet and greet the fans i am stunned to see they are all doctors and lawyers
imagine their serious complicated lives
and then they listen to the church to forget themselves
i think thats kinder cool
i love everyone who loves the band
if they have heeded this vague call
gigs fly by and out of memory
i do yoga and stay tuned
i am sensible and healthy
in crowded rooms and vast lonely places
in the humidity and the A.C.’s icy blast
in the drudgery and romance
in the packing and unpacking
in the stupidity and the brilliance
in the limelight and in the emptiness
in the anticipation and in the release
in the many and in the only only one
goddess of music lay your favour on me babe
saraswati out there some where jamming down her sacred groove
many splendid evening the strings i pull go right through them
a piano falls from the sky and crushes my shadow
the notes explode radiating out in arcing cadences
bass a serpent wriggling in my earth like worm
i plug in and i’m flying through cities like a witch
the magic comes when it wants it goes when it wants
it is elusive illusive and divisive
magic god music yoga peace pot
a secret transmission from beyond via a daft old popsinger
what is music anyway i still don’t understand
what is a song even?
what is your bass guitar?
what is the time that you go onstage?
what is the first note in the first song?
what is the last note you will ever play?
where did it start and how will it end?
watch this space i guess