I woke up this morning
To quite a surprise
I had a 42 chest
And round shapely thighs

The hair on my face
Had been replaced
With voluptuous lips
And rosy red cheeks

Guess all the dreaming of women
That I always do
Went straight to my head
And changed a thing or two

I went to the mirror
As every man would
And thought to myself
That I look pretty good

So I searched my wife's closet
Found a little red dress
Nothing to fancy
But enough to impress

Off of the hanger
I pulled it down
Then headed out the door
For a night on the town

Dinning and dancing
In all the places I'd been
I break a few hearts
Cause I don't really like men

I tried to explain
That I woke up this way
Neither delusional nor crazy
And certainly not gay

I'm just thinking I think
Of women most all the time
It must have swirled in my head
Till my body fell into line

I'm not really sure
What I'm going to do
But enjoy being pretty
For a moment or two

Just when my wife
Was warming up to the idea
I woke up again
But this time back to a man

The one thing I learned
Out of all this craziness
Is I look good in red
So I'm keeping the dress

I used to bang on fretted strings
frilled out chords and pretty things
I closed my eyes and let it flow
no boundaries did imagination know

I still can feel the rising rush
of blood electric through my veins
reminisce of all the chains
I've busted through
me and my crew
we did the do and so much more....
out of this world we did explore

through the sound, through the music, through the sound, into the mystic, so profound, to feel the music...

in our blood, hearts of lust
a musician's kind of kindred trust

i miss those days...

I sometimes weep inside
I hear a verse and groove the vibe
but something inside me knows it died
...

A life once lived, so true...
so true
That life I lived is through...
so through

But still I keep an acoustic propped against my wall
in case that the muse of music does call...
*please call

Constant
From the cue of entrance
Through the chaotic ink splashes
And the measures of rest
A part of us keeps this rhythm
Strung clear and precise
Mysteriously, wandering throughout
We pass around the chore
Until the final chord is drawn

But we survive
In the minds of our audience,
Forever trying to grasp hold of
Our fleeting orchestral heart beat:
Ostinato