Song picture
Friday After Breakfast
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A new song. Simple arrangement- Rhythm guitar, bass, drums, flute, and vocal. Still tweaking the mix.
Rock, whatever, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, keys, vocals, harmonies
************************************************************ Hi. Here you'll find mostly me making music (occassionally, I get a little help from my friends). My home base is rock but I've written/recorded country, orchestral, techno, dance, etc. I'm open to any style that strikes me when I sit down with an instrument. The recordings are made at my home studio. Hopefully, the sound quality improves with practice. Enjoy your stay.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic General
Charts
#2,103 today Peak #89
#848 in subgenre Peak #26
Author
Douglas McClure
Rights
2015- Douglas McClure
Uploaded
November 19, 2015
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.9 MB • 160 kbps • 4:18
Story behind the song
My wife and I went out for breakfast one Friday morning that I had off from work. After we came home, I went into the studio and got this idea.
Lyrics
Two lines, nearly parallel, take a chance on the town and finally come to cross on a Thursday night. Could be funny, could be tragic, could be anyone's guess. Could be the new foundation of a life. Cocktails die, laughter flies, and its 2 a.m. Friday has come; they've been opening up for a while. It's time to close, they don't have to go home but they can't stay here. There's an all-night on Route 46 and it's less than a mile. It's a tangle of lines at the Fireside the schematic of a hazy design. It's a game of pick up sticks, it's a mess on the surface but step inside heaven knows just what you'll find. So it's off to Paulie's Diner, the one with the faded sign "Open dawn til dawn and renowned for our cakes and our crumb!" These new figures, now adjacent, share a booth and two sides and Friday after breakfast will see what the two have become. Somewhere down the line, the unfolding of lives will tell that the ultimate shape for the two was a house all along. It may come as no surprise, two years later, this house made its way to a home and on a Friday after breakfast I sat and I wrote down this song. There's something at work at the Fireside Something that's hard to define. It's a game of pick up sticks, it's a mess on the surface, but step inside. In this chaos you just might believe there's a master design. In this chaos you just might believe there's a master design...
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