Songwriting Confidential #2


So, you see the guy leaning against the billboard in a crummy vacant lot, papers and pigeon crap all around; you see the sun shafts belching through the trestle splitting into millions of daggers splayed out over the emptiness and dirt, all except for the leaning man getting blazed and skewered by the sinking sun on his hat, one side of his face a brilliantine shimmering, the other side a coffin of shadows,. " Hmmm, you think, thats guys a song, look at his legs all shifty and crooked like a human talisman, a hobo charm whose seen lightening and disasters who could impart bible secrets and deep murmurings from coptic tombs and sparkling astral junctions". Your songwriter mind races like it does a zillion times a day with everything seen, unseen, known and unknown like a diamond thief in a curio shop on the Zanzibar coast in a blinding red hailstorm.