posted on August 21, 2015 at 9:12 am

dressing room new jersey

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



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