Most people you’d tell “I’m gonna be a musician,” they’d say, “you’re crazy, you’re gonna starve, you’re gonna be poor, a drug addict, go to jail, you’ll never make it, there’s too much competition.
It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in / There’s an old man sitting next to me making love to his tonic and gin / He says, ‘Son, can you play me a memory?
Well we’re waiting here in Allentown For the Pennsylvania we never found For the promises our teachers gave If we worked hard If we behaved So the graduations hang on the wall But they never really helped us at all No they never taught us what was real.
I always loved music, so I would probably either be in a band with another group of people, or an arranger, a producer, a musicologist, a music history guy, something to do with music. Either that, or I would probably be in jail. Or dead.
