Comfort In My Stupor

I threw a message in a bottle
across to Whidbey Island pleading
for true artists to come to my aid
to paint me a new life but nobody
came and here I am I am.

I sent I sent my regards
to Broadway and got back
nothing not any indication
of any life between the statue
of liberty and 125th street.

You can’t be in the cockpit with your feet on the ground
you can’t live in a capsule with your head in the stars.

I spammed Silicon Valley
I flooded all their servers
with prayers for peace and harmony
for comfort in my stupor
but did you think I’d get any?

I dispatched a train across
the wilds and the wildernesses
of Texas with a boxcar full
of letters pleading for less stress
in my country life but I guess

You can’t be in the cockpit with your feet on the ground
you can’t live in a capsule with your head in the stars.

[verse]
C7#9 /// G#69 /// F#13 ///
C#9 /// Am7b5 /// D6 /// ////
C7#9 /// G#69 /// F#13 ///
C#9 /// Am7b5 /// D6 /// ////
Am7 /// D7 ///  G /// ////

[refrain]
Am7 ///  G /// ////
E /// Am7 / D7 / // C9 / G ///  ////

[instrumental buffer]
F#m9 / G13 / C7 / D7 / G ///  Ab13 ///

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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