The studio smells like spilled galaxies and cheap ginCables coiled like snakes sleeping off the nightSomeone left a tambourine in the sinkSomeone else left...
The studio smells like spilled galaxies and cheap gin Cables coiled like snakes sleeping off the night Someone left a tambourine in the sink Someone else left their dignity on the mixing board
The big album is done Or maybe it isn't The meaning keeps shifting Like a drunk trying to find the door
A guitarist wakes up under a blanket of sheet music Notes stuck to his face like accusations The drummer is curled in a bass drum A heartbeat echoing from somewhere that isn't him
Coffee brews in quantum fields Appearing, disappearing, reappearing No one knows who made it Or why it tastes like regret
They laugh, then groan, then laugh again Because groaning is too much work In a flicker of fluorescent lights They realize the party never ended It just changed shape
This current project is called "The Musical Adventures of Frank and Merlin"*
"Music is Best" -FZ
* Any resemblence to persons living or dead is purly...
This current project is called "The Musical Adventures of Frank and Merlin"*
"Music is Best" -FZ
* Any resemblence to persons living or dead is purly coincidental. This is a work of pure fiction which begins sometime during the "flower power " era c 1968. LOL!