There's a definite feeling of relief getting into the last week of this. It feels familiar. I've written seven songs in seven days before. No problem. The lyrics for this song were actually generated about halfway through last week but I wasn't quite sure how to put them all together. Necessity being the mother of invention, when I was feeling completely dry last night and tired of writing meta songs about the process of writing 28 songs in 28 days, I dug this out.
Remembering Elizabeth Gilbert's talk on inspiration last night--I posted it here Saturday evening on--had me smiling last night as I worked through the process. Maybe my genius is just kind of lame today. I even ventured to mention to my muse that I was doing my best to show up so if she didn't feel like it I wasn't taking full responsibility for whatever came out.
Vagabonds and troubadors
Nerds and geeks and worlds or war
Crossword puzzlers and scrabble Scores
We are the Ghosts in the Cafes
Sunday papers magazines
Savage loves and train-scenes
Outcasts as well as beauty queens
We are the Ghosts in the Cafes
A moan of lonlieness
or sketch of love
We write our words in notebooks
Look for thoughts up above
Nannies, moms and scarey men
Critics with their poison pens
Folks like us and lots of them
We are the Ghosts in the Cafes
A moan of lonlieness
or sketch of love
We write our words in notebooks
Look for thoughts up above
Quiet men and bashful girls
Pastries filled with cream chese swirls
Every table it’s own world
We are the Ghosts in the Cafes
