It was cold as hell under a spell of songs left to play I was here anyway to find the right sound
No person to view only music on a street heart on a sleeve here to grieve the dance in my feet
And she came into the room took my hand held to her lips said the story goes like this I invited you here to play lend me your soul as your emotion goes to pure country
I was in bar On side street in Detroit Black man on a sax Country boy in country hat Tore a part my mind that is that
From the edge that plays Into the wild of dreams Come all you fools Sting the cool Watch the martyr Run away
Come in a rush Supper crushed Amber to view Just winter blues Every drop a play
Skill left alone Stand tall upon a throne Maddens is at bay Come the other way To be alone
Drop of honor on a stage Voice cuts the rage Hear the sound As he lays his pipe down Hear the harps play
Angels of the night Writers young and bright Wisdom in a book Come and look Turn your head the other way
And I know in white or black snow Drugs rub the found in a sound Lost in cradles long ago Rip of tide long last in pride Writer is gone but we still sing his song
There is today a want and need A driving force upon a dead steed And she looks the same In diamonds and fame We sing along with her other song
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
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