Mosaic - David J

So I’m four years older than the Ox, when he passed away

In room 658 of the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas, in disarray

With a groupie called Sianna, a leopard skin rug

And white lines on a tray

His bass lines from «My Generation» was one of the first that

I learned to play

And we exchanged a secret handshake on that day

Now I’m drifting through these corridors

Where commerce meets the carnal

To hang another picture of some dream girl on the wall

And despite this torch I carry, the halls are growing darker

And they’re not decked with holly, or anything bright at all

You traded stripper tips for a zip-code in West Hollywood

And you’re far from the orange curtain of your OC childhood

And it’s a pas de deux in a rented room, the ballerina

dancer

Rendezvous at midnight with the full moon in their blood

So come lay on my fever dream, let me feel the glow inside you

Then rise like Mary Magdalene on the crest of a West Coast dawn

I’ve got thirty years on you and we only have hours together

The clock it is a guillotine and my head in a basket is borne

And back in Barcelona where old Gaudy had dreamed his dreams

The architecture of delirium is never what it seems

Il Sagrada Familia, they’re still building it

I guess you just can’t quit when you’ve come so far

And me I’m in the back room of some dingy bar

Putting pen to paper and lighting flame to tar

Reporting from the front line of this crazy life

A life of misadventure, adversity and strife

But I wouldn’t change it if I could, as with beauty too it’s life

So two sides to the story and double edged the knife

All these fractured images like little mosaic pieces

When seen from a distance, they resemble a broken heart