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Soul Singer In A Session Band



See the Soul Singer in the session band,
Shredded to ribbons beneath a microphone stand.
Felt the quickness of pity like a flash in a pan,
For the Soul Singer in the session band.

Now a red carpet bagger makes a Blackberry call,
To the plastic piranhas in the city of salt.
Wasted wheat paste campaign post no bills on the wall.
You mean nothing to no one but that's nobody's fault.

See the Soul Singer in the session band,
Shredded to ribbons beneath a microphone stand.
Felt the quickness of pity like a flash in a pan,
For the Soul Singer in the session band.

I had a lengthy discussion about The Power of Myth,
With a post-modern author who didn't exist.
In this fictitious world all reality twists.
I was a hopeless romantic now I'm just turning tricks.

Just like that Soul Singer in the session band,
Shredded confetti beneath a microphone stand.
Saw the Conflict of Interest slipping cash in the hand,
Of the Soul Singer in the session band.

His room is on fire since he painted it red.
There are a stranger's silk sequins at the foot of the bed.
He has been to weddings and funerals but he still never wept.
Now sorrow is pleasure when you want it instead.

Just like the Soul Singer in the session band,
Wailed like an infant atop a white baby grand.
We'll need every sand bag and every man,
To save the Soul Singer in the session band.

Headlights or taillights it's a flip of a coin.
I have been coming and going since the day I was born.
And I followed the breadcrumbs but I never got home.
I grew old in an instant now I am all on my own.

Just like that Soul Singer in the session band,
Shredded to nothing beneath the microphone stand.
Saw the wave of the future through the crack of the dam,
Drowned the Soul Singer in the session band.
Bless the Soul singer in the session band.

Bright Eyes

Soul Singer In A Session Band / Bright Eyes

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