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letra de my old record store - dallet band

once upon a time when life was young and the art of communication
came in the form of poetry dancing to tunes of innovation
flawless l!cks and priceless pics made up a square of revolution
hidden inside are stories to find that give birth to stories of their own

on 52nd street along a cold spring harbor
an la woman played in a bowl of hollywood strange days
pieces of you were found in the days of august and everything after
inside my old record store

worn torn walls muralled bathroom stalls
platnimum vinyl trophies in a case
letters written from those smitten to any reckognizable face
dust and dinge give a personal tinge to a mess
thats just not messy at
to all serve as a sanctuary where the dead can live on

face the music, against the wind, sticky fingers on a velvet revolver
cat’s fever scratch left blood on the tracks of goodman’s city of new orleans
dagon’s magic puff thunderbirds tuff enuff eight ball blues sink the corner pocket
inside my old record store

nicotine stick and the rotted brick house vagrants of creative mind
purple faced rants and smoke pot plants numbing colors of psychedelic kind
volumes of books now you have to look up exactly who sang that rhyme
against time they’ve never been left behind
breaking bread, after the gold rush to curb an appetite for destruction
big momma’s dog hound made pet sounds to woo the ladies of the canyon
phish stuck in undertow down young’s bridges road
that left me running on empty toward my old record store

phone behavior curt no feelings hurt our discounts are in the prices
they’re back in town but they cause a frown ’cause they’re a mockery of themselves
33 lp tape to cd vhs to dvd rays of blu’s singing the now obsolete blues

imagine no wars to a blind man’s score jammin’ dreams over the rainbow
stuck in traffic’s winwood, i feel good only live at the apollo
hills of fools within without you and i bet you can’t guess who
inside my old record store

neon lights gentrification flights and a rich man at the door
internet tricks and they’re purchsed quick give me what i want right now
people stand wine glass in hand skirts and suits and posh galore
inside my old record store

call the police the blind man’s zoo is on the road again
goodbye yellow brickroad
the crickets no show’d indeed the “times they are a’ changin”
one of these nights, the nighthawks at the diner will sing no more
inside my old record store

- dallet band

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