As I lay sedated upon my La-Z-Boy recliner,
cup of whiskey from my good friend John in my hand.
I slowly start to fade off........

and then I hear it.

A mothers six string crying in the distance.

I perk up my ears to make sure I'm not delusional or dreaming,
.....and again it wails.

Then as if touched by purple rain myself, the magic grows louder.
Suddenly a harp is being hummed and I swear I hear a saxophone singing the blues.
I look out my window and it's as if the top hats and tom-tom's are banging through the crowd.
Faintly, I hear that joyous cry.

Now it may just be me,
but there must be some kind of way outta here is parallel to having a dream.

I listen longer and I hear my sugar pie sing and my honey bunch smiles,
and for a minute I forget all about why this malted bevy was placed in my hand,
and I escape to a far away place.

To a place where Rapunzel lets down her hair for me and ******* and whiskey flow free,
but then as if struck by a sixteen ton truck,
I am snapped back into that place I was trying to forget.

And again I hang my head and cry,
because now,
it's just another day,
where I heard,
the music,
die.