Welcome people, to the dim-lit room where the heartache blooms and the fragmented chords of melodies loom.
Where receptive eardrums of the crowd consume, all the ritualistic rhythms of this old blues tune.
The slap of the bass strings hum in meditation and sailing sounds ride waves, cultivating orchestration.
People mesmerised, stand immersed in adoration, for the puppet master’s work manipulates their palpitations.
Then as saxophones shake wailing, spouting sore regrets, we embrace the guilty joys deep in our unconsciousness.
Our exquisite torments drift like poisoned scents down the highway of veins into sleeping instruments.
It is then when we truly awaken, connect, live, play and say…
Minds elope, they’re free to flow
Heart-beats slow, just let go
Don’t be a robot, enslaved, follow suit and behave
Don’t be a robot, dead-weight, storm the gates and seek change
Don’t be a robot, a slave, breakaway and escape!
So storm and swarm to where the street corner talking’s done
Knee-deep in our vanity and far from home
Deluded by the bright screens of our mobile phones
Reassured we’re free, yet so enslaved and alone
Running from the truth/reality, clutching all we own