I woke early one day after a restless night
|
I watched the stars burst and fill the morning sky with light
|
In my hazy daze I noticed something on my bedroom floor
|
It was an envelope I don't think I had seen before
|
I opened it with caution and in it did reside
|
A map and a note that said "join me inside"
|
I had nothing to do that day outside of my head
|
So I decided to just follow and see where it led
|
It led me to a door, grabbed the handle and used it
|
Stood before me was the physical embodiment of music
|
I could barely believe my eyes, she was a sepia goddess
|
Every contour was perfection and her demeanour was modest
|
Even armed with all this beauty she was in no way belittling
|
I'd liken her body to the opening riff from Little Wing
|
Her eyes burned deep with the passion of a nameless chain gang
|
And lips smart with the vibe of Son of a Preacher Man
|
She told me she had evolved over time
|
We sauntered into her room room with just a bed and some wine
|
We talked for hours about the things she's seen and done but not boasting
|
We passed the Zinfandel, raised the glass and just toasting
|
We had a meeting of minds, she breathed life in this old brain
|
She was the milk in my KahlA¨¬a, I was the Hartman to her Coltrane
|
Showed me scars she had acquired each time a genius would depart
|
Jimi Hendrix on her left hand, Johnny Cash on her heart
|
Different fingers, Mingus, Davis and her leg scarred for Elvis
|
Ray Charles on her eyelids, Jim Morrison on her pelvis
|
Then she asked about me and my musical stylings
|
All the things in life I found somewhat inspiring
|
I paused, the wine making me feel quite cocky
|
Feeling whatever I said she would take in, and not mock me
|
I said I'm a wordsmith and artist, I'm deep like the TARDIS
|
Every time I aim for something I'm gonna hit the target
|
She joked: "Gangster rap?"; I said "No, but drop the 'g',
|
You might start to get a better description of me."
|
"Angster rap?" she said. "If it sticks you'll regret that,
|
The most appalling moniker since the dawn of Dan le Sac."
|
|
She was a sepia goddess, yeah, her demeanour was modest
|
Her hair was wild like the darkest deepest of forests
|
Many before me had fallen at her feet and died
|
But then I made a connection and she let me inside
|
She was a sepia goddess, yeah, her demeanour was modest
|
Hair was wild like the darkest deepest of forests
|
Many before me had fallen at her feet and died
|
But then I made a connection and she let me inside
|
|
I continue: "Some of these clothes are looking old just like my jaded character
|
Who thinks like I'm abroad but sometimes I act like an amateur
|
This hat's an old classic in the first stage of dilapidation
|
It's a fair evaluation that it's making this equation a little
|
Top-heavy, if you know what I mean
|
'Cause there's a fine line between a classic and a has-been."
|
As I finished that sentence I noticed the sadness in her eyes
|
This moved me, left my mind wondering why
|
As we lay there she buried her head in my chest
|
I wrapped my arms around her, stroked her with the sweetest caress
|
I wanted to find the right line that could make her sad head lift
|
Wanted a chance to breathe life back into music like redshift
|
Said she'd grown sick and tired of the same shit
|
I said if there was anything in the world I could do, she should name it
|
She said sit in public places and quietly observe
|
All of the speeches, mannerisms, every action and word
|
When something inspires me to concentrate on that thing
|
Get a pen and pad and then produce a vocal offering
|
She said "bring the lost art of conversation back
|
I'm sick to death of awkward silences and all that crap
|
It's time to talk to one another, share your thoughts and facts
|
Learn the more of it you give, the more you get right back"
|
I looked her in the eyes and said I'd do what I could
|
Then she held my head and kissed me but not like a lover would
|
But then, it also wasn't like a close friend or relative
|
Instead of exciting it was calming like a spiritual sedative
|
And then we lay there until I woke in an empty room
|
If I couldn't still smell her skin I'd be in |