every day after the disgruntled soloist storms off
a very good group of musicians who enjoy playing together
and don't give a hoot how much they are making… just doin it doin
and they play a set until they are satisfied
and every day i watch as 'three string greg', has to beg them to let
him fit in
between their sets. he lives in a house of umbrellas nearby. they
always wait till he begs. maybe because he is a beggar. but they
always give in and he sets up with a car battery and his own amplifier
and plays his own songs on his three stringed guitar which he uses as
a drum simultaneously. and guess what… he's a magnificent true
hearted orpheus under his broken exterior.
break a leg
break a leg
i said to greg
as he lay down his guitar
on his pajamaed leg
three stringed ragas
and ragas with blues
a musical genius with
nothing to lose.
strummin' and pickin'
in a lazy way
he sang about a lazy day
"it's just a lazy day"
no other way to play
they broke his hand
and they took out his hip
but they couldn't break his heart
on his lovely lonely trip
he still faces the wind
and he plays his part.
"always face the wind.", he sang
"it's a good excuse for tears."
the homeless clapped their hands
the gentlefolk clasped their beers
looked at each other with winks and leers
iguanas in the sun…
"iguanas in the sun" he sang, "iguanas in the sun"
you have a right to curse, my friend,
when your soul is on the run