i am a studio musician
we've never met
but you know me well
i am the english horn
who plays the poignant counter-nine
upon the song you heard
while making love in some hotel
i am a part of you
i've never tried for fame
you'll never know my name
i am the strings that enter softly
or three guitars that glitter gold
i am the thousand trumpet lines
that were an afterthought
intended eyes
the way to get a dying record sold
i never ride the road
i never play around
i played what they set down
i'm a working musician
living from week to week
i'm the voice through each empty men
tried to speak
a studio musician
blowin' the chance i see
and when the woodwind coushin rises
i start to dream
with the low brass bed
but i awake the horns
the drummer calls to me
we're up the letter d
i'm a man of the moment
pop is my stock n' trade
singles
jingles and demos
conventently made
a studio musician
whose music will die unplayed
a studio musician
whose music could have died unplayed