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Description
A number based on a poem Mary (grathy) sent me some time ago. It had something of a tribal feel to me, and this I tried to deliver with the help of James' (bass2x) magical trumpet.
A huge thank you to both Mary and James for sharing their talents with me, and their patience with me
And my apologies to all african brothers for my miserable attempt at reproducing the feel of one of their beautiful choirs
A huge thank you to both Mary and James for sharing their talents with me, and their patience with me
And my apologies to all african brothers for my miserable attempt at reproducing the feel of one of their beautiful choirs
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Lyrics
FROM MY FLAT ROOM
copyright Mary McGrath
They do it,
I don't know why
These of Manhattan
Blur of briefcase,
Cartier, Burberry,
Looking ahead at nowhere
Over there the yellows honk,
Scream at the sidewalks
The hurry for something
What is it
To stay ahead
Of the silver monsters
That loom overhead
Making dark sunlight
The tower of commerce
That peers down
From forty floors
At the ants
And their entrails
Climbing uphill
Pushing crumbs
Forever in motion,
Motionless.
copyright Mary McGrath
They do it,
I don't know why
These of Manhattan
Blur of briefcase,
Cartier, Burberry,
Looking ahead at nowhere
Over there the yellows honk,
Scream at the sidewalks
The hurry for something
What is it
To stay ahead
Of the silver monsters
That loom overhead
Making dark sunlight
The tower of commerce
That peers down
From forty floors
At the ants
And their entrails
Climbing uphill
Pushing crumbs
Forever in motion,
Motionless.
Skean
Like it a lot... THX for sharing.