Probably my next song, or the one after.
I woke up singing this in my head this morning. Or, I composed it in my half-sleep to fit a guitar and bass riff I was dreaming of. Or, who knows. It has potential. Mostly, now, I need to imagine what else needs to, or can, be said. And musically, where else it might wander.
my name is steven
everybody
calls me steve
here comes the waitress
with her heart
upon her sleeve
you leave a tip
you pay the tab
and then you leave
a missed connection
the wrong direction
a slight correction
to your course
bet the wrong horse
I post it as an example of 'Where do ideas come from? How do we decide what to write?'
I'll be damned if I know the answer to that.
I hope the Muse is as kind to you as she occasionally is to me.
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