The Terminal Tavern (Live)

The Terminal Tavern (Live) - David Wilcox

Ah what a beautiful place

It is so lush and quiet in these walls

It's a place where the sound

Really stands a chance of finding its way

And I'm grateful 'cause man there are a lot of gigs

That's just really hard

The sound doesn't stand a chance

A lot of times there's a gig

That's between somewhere and somewhere else

You really wouldn't go there to play it

But the booking agent says

Well you're on your way

Why don't you stop and play

You know the Terminal Tavern

As my friend Gamble would say

What a skull orchard

I mean imagine straining good fine art sensibility through

That veil of chicken wire

It's the kind of place where you gaze

About you at those walls of pecky Cyprus

And pine wood adorned with frontier memorabilia

And mint-condition tire tool sets

And the ceiling under slung with fish net encrusted

With detritus and streaming down through

The steaming midnight air a million shattered dreams

That dangle like declensions of despair

And the daily drunks just line the walls

Like lemmings in repose

The festering booze assaulting their entrails

Like time-release suicide

They're stuck to that sticky floor and they're not moving

And you think what do they need

Well I don't have that

What have I got

I've got an acoustic guitar it's not enough

I've got words

I wonder if they stand a chance to be heard

Maybe music doesn't stand a chance

I mean I can make sound

I have vocal chords

I have strings

I can make sound

Who needs sound

We need music and music is much bigger than that

Music is timing with a capital

Music is hearing a song that sounds like your song

'Cause it's just what you've been dreaming of

Or thinking of or praying for

Suddenly it's speaking right to you

And sure there're all these other people here

But they're just superfluous

It's your song and it was meant just for you

It hits home and it's real

'Cause it's coming from some place much bigger

But in that place you look around and you think

Oh man there's no chance for this to happen

There're so many distractions

There's always distractions

All you can do is send it out

I think Sting's analogy of songs is a great one saying

It's a message in a bottle

You take all your best hopes and dreams

And send it out in a bottle

Toss it in the ocean

Whoever gets it and when they get it well

It has more to do with the ocean

Than it has to do with you

That's good

The ocean can be trusted if the timing is right

Sent it out as best you can