posted on September 9, 2009 at 8:05 am

adam jam the president of music
summoned a brand new bag
oh those cool be-bop cats playing on
the melodiotron
laying down some deep groove
high in the small hours
in some basement kingdom
all lit up with little LEDs
twang twang twang goes old bass moan
rumble rumble bang bang
the drummed wires half in time
slipping in some strange stuff
takes me back to mixolotyl
and the ancient electric prophesy
and the ripped up strings that were coiled down
and we listened so much we wore silver strips off the sound
and adam jam compressed all the sugary singer
for in truth
the lambless jam was who i am
and we plucked our fluted liars
and god helped the triers
with hoods n friars
we blew up the horn
we called upon the yet unborn
adam jam unto himself
speaks to you now:
the samples of myself
i freely give away for a price
i sing this song
unmastered as it is
the machines are there
the possibility doth exist
drag summer into your head
your guitar gently sleeps
yet you wake upon some treble cliff
strung out between the pearl inlaid necks
looking for a bridge looking for a newline
the moon is singing something
every song that ever was
every dream you ever really dreamed
every sweet n kind dream soft as theme
oh its a wonderful wild music week
and the how the beat has turned on me
and how the key eludes me in spades
yeah adam jam
president of sound
island bound
howl like a hell hound
looping round n round
let all notes be free
let the pianos feed upon the raw audience
let the violins rule the mob
let the bloody trumpet shriek in victory
ah men

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