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Imagine that I'm on the stageUnder a watchtower of punishing lightAnd in the haze is your face bathed in shadowAnd what's beyond you is hidden from sightAnd somebody right now is yawningAnd watching me like a TVAnd I've been frantically piling up sandbagsAgainst the flood waters of fatigue and insecurityThen suddenly I hear my guitar singingAnd so I just start singing alongAnd somewhere in my chest all the noiseJust gets crushed by the songImagine that I'm at your mercyImagine that you are at mineOh, pretend that I've been standing hereWatching you watching me all this timeNow imagine that you are the weatherIn the tiny snow globe of this songAnd I am a statue of liberty, one inch longAnd here I am at my most hungryAnd here I am at my most fullAnd here I am waving a red capeLocking eyes with a bullJust imagine that I'm on stageUnder a watchtower of punishing lightAnd in the haze is your face bathed in shadowAnd what's beyond you is hidden from sight
Lastly, for whatever reason, my mind doesn't latch onto lyrics. There are some songs I've listened to easily a thousand times and I only know little more than the refrains (think Grateful Dead). I chalk it up to internal wiring, but the variation in the instrumentation used over decades still grabs me.Len
I think of three things: 3. A fascination with the reproduction of a moment in time some place where the recording was made No, I am not overmedicated.Howard
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