All Before The Music Died (A Love Letter To The Bands I Once Loved)

We were lost in a house of love  
as our generation  
tried its best to shine on.
We breathed in no sigh of relief,  
but we let out  
a violent primal scream.
 
I must return home  
with James and Gene  
to deal with Jane’s Addiction,  
and buy her the finest roses  
made from stone,  
on this infinite  
of blue Monday’s.
 
Puking over youth,  
with a voice so sonic,  
Moving supersonic over Insprial carpets  
and an oasis of gin and tonic.
 
That petrol emotion,  
as this tear drop explodes,  
On My bloody valentine  
as we start to age and chorded.
 
In Papa New Uni  
I found the future,  
in saint ettene I was in a bad way.  
The feeling was lush  
as we enjoyed picnics on motorways.
 
I returned on a pacific state 808
from Mad-Chester, forever delayed.  
You’re twisting my melon man"""
 
 
Oh Mr Hannon  
you write such witty lyrics  
I find you comedy truly divine.
 
And so we find our self’s standing in cowpat  
in a field in worle,  
sorted for e’s and whiz  
and surrounded by common people  
and the promise of new labor  
our brain’s crushed to a pulp.  
Lost in a wide open space.
 
Oh Mr Weller with your ever changing lyrics man,  
I’ll follow you in to the wild wood of death,  
 
Our skin feels like suede  
swimming in seas of animal nitrate,  
but soon a new generation  
like London would be calling.
 
……and in a blur it was gone,  
there was no other way.  
No connection was made.
 
Nevermind, we expressed nirvana,  
we swum in jam made of pearls,  
we smashed pumpkins and took the ride,
All before the music died.







For Rainbow!