But I Don't Wanna Sing About Guitars
Downtown at the music place,
Everyone's playing, all on their own,
And all at once, a suspicious lurking ambiance.
(It's gettin' dark)
(Mark Shippy solo)
The audience is losing patience.
You better not be
Lying to us
Or dearly you'll pay
It's not just okay.
Our boiling blood will ruin your day.
As soon as you hear
The sound of the horns,
The harps + the lyres.
The gold smiths are shamed,
The instruments fakes,
They got no breath in their wakes.
(Glen Galaxy solo; Mark, Glen, Mark descending then...Chris Cohen plays the blues! Then the guit orch rocks it hard.)
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is.
Awake harp + lyre, the dawn is waiting patiently.
Come me + all, celebrate with all our might(y).
Procession coming from the highest place
Mountains move closer to get to hear clear.
We sing a new song on our 10 string lyres.
Charming savage beats + religious spirits.
Exchanging lies for truth...so hear the...
The horn, the flute, the sun + the sky.
The harp + the moon, guitars strumming,
Animals humming,
Celebrate with your might.