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This is a new song I'm working on, and I'd appreciate some feedback!
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Lyrics
Professor Wilcox likes to read about the workings of the brain,
about blood vessels and veins, about the computers and mainframes.
He finds it hard to sleep at night, he just wants to make it right.
Sometimes it's hard to settle down.
Every morning when he wakes up, he has a splash of gin,
hobbles out the door and has a pint ot Old King's Inn.
It's getting hard to be moral, though he's a scholar of Kant.
He tries not to quarrel.
He dreams of balls and debutantes.
In dusty hallways, in the trees, in cobwebs spun above his bed,
he sees a silhouette, of a graceful, coy coquette,
swirling, dancing, laughing in his face.
At the office, in the lecture hall at the university,
in some quiet corner of the research library,
the laughter is everywhere.
It mocks his thinning hair, it mocks his wrinkled skin,
and his fat and crinkled chin.
In dusty hallways, in the trees, in cobwebs spun above his bed,
he sees a silhouette, of a graceful, coy coquette,
swirling, dancing, laughing in his face.
When it's easy, it ain't so bad, it's never easy, when you're going mad.
His only solace is a photograph he keeps, oh yeah,
inside a box inside another box,he weeps, oh no.
Whatcha gonna do, professor?
When the grades are in, who'll assess your life?
When it's easy, it ain't so bad. It's never easy, when you're going mad.
about blood vessels and veins, about the computers and mainframes.
He finds it hard to sleep at night, he just wants to make it right.
Sometimes it's hard to settle down.
Every morning when he wakes up, he has a splash of gin,
hobbles out the door and has a pint ot Old King's Inn.
It's getting hard to be moral, though he's a scholar of Kant.
He tries not to quarrel.
He dreams of balls and debutantes.
In dusty hallways, in the trees, in cobwebs spun above his bed,
he sees a silhouette, of a graceful, coy coquette,
swirling, dancing, laughing in his face.
At the office, in the lecture hall at the university,
in some quiet corner of the research library,
the laughter is everywhere.
It mocks his thinning hair, it mocks his wrinkled skin,
and his fat and crinkled chin.
In dusty hallways, in the trees, in cobwebs spun above his bed,
he sees a silhouette, of a graceful, coy coquette,
swirling, dancing, laughing in his face.
When it's easy, it ain't so bad, it's never easy, when you're going mad.
His only solace is a photograph he keeps, oh yeah,
inside a box inside another box,he weeps, oh no.
Whatcha gonna do, professor?
When the grades are in, who'll assess your life?
When it's easy, it ain't so bad. It's never easy, when you're going mad.
dajama
Nice stuff. Some nice, early Pink Floyd-like vibes here, and some nice guitar sounds, and a cool vocal delivery, with plenty of attitude. Nice one. Peace.