A lot of the songs start with an image. I was sitting there playing the guitar and I pictured this old, dirty green car, with the window rolled down, in the hot, hot, hot Texas heat, and this beautiful woman I knew when I was a kid sitting behind the wheel, looking out at me.
quote by Edie Brickell

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Sitting At The Wheel
I can hear the music playing
I can hear the word that youre saying
I can see the lovelife in your eyes
Whats the use in looking for an answer
I might find out
It could be a disaster
Hold on to your own time
Dont let go
Dont let go
Im sitting at the wheel
Watching the river roll roll on by
Sitting at the wheel
Dont let the river run dry
I can see your face on a piece of tomorrow
Ill hang my dream on a road I can follow
I gotta touch the warmth of your love
Not gonna take a chance a
Change of direction
Gonna keep on rolling till I find the connection
Hold on to your lifeline
Dont let
Dont let go
Sitting at the wheel
Watching the river roll roll on by
Sitting at the wheel
Dont let the river run dry
Im sitting at
Im sitting at the wheel
Like a voyeur standing at the edge of time
Looking for a reason
Thats got no rhyme
Love took a corner
Shot off for a mile
Rock on --- rocker
I can hear the music playing
I can hear the word that youre saying
I can see the lovelife in your eyes
Aint no use in looking for an answer
I might find out
It could be a disaster
Hold on to your own time
Dont let go
Dont let go
Im sitting at the wheel
Watching the river rock and roll on by
Sitting at the wheel
I am just sitting
Im just sitting at the wheel
Im just sitting at the wheel
Watching the river roll by
Rock and roll by
Sitting at the wheel
I am just sitting
Sitting at the wheel
If youre sitting at the wheel
Watch the rocker roll by
song performed by by Moody Blues

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fate of a Musician
Every day I pick up my guitar and just play
I write my own songs with the help of friends
We design music and lyrics we start new trends
Acoustic guitar, electric guitar or 12 strings
These instruments have played my songs and I have grown wings
Soaring and flying watching my creations grow
As the music expands the lyrics just flow
The more I create the more passionate I become
The more I play the more fun we have
Music gives me something to do
Each song I write I will be sure to see through
When I am up on stage standing in the spotlight
I spread my wings, start playing, and take flight!
When the crowd cheers you get a feeling of inspiration
After the gig you’re sitting home alone
You pull out your guitar stick in the headphones
You start strumming, creating your own beat
You sit there all night tapping your feet
The history of music and the sound you create
Brings friends closer together I reckon its more then fate.
Benjamin A. Green
poem by Benjamin Andrew

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Sitting In A Dream
I'm just passing time before the Ball
Playing my guitar
I don't have to be where I don't want to be at all
Maybe I'll go far
Going nowhere, sitting in a dream...
Ah, in a dream
Sitting in a landscape full of sighs
Dream away the day
Making up a tune about the blueness of the skies
This is where I'll stay
Going nowhere, sitting in a dream...
Oh, in a dream
Watching as a red and white balloon
Sails across my mind
In between the images that drift along my tune
Smile as they unwind
Going nowhere, sitting in a dream...
Ah, in a dream
song performed by by Deep Purple

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting On A Fence
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees no sense in fighting
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees no sense at all
Sitting on a fence is a man who strokes his twenty beards
Sitting on a fence is a man who drink real ale
But the real problem with this man
Is he says he cant when he can
Hed rather not get his hands dirty
Hell still be there when hes thirty
I told myself to keep my mouth shut
But I still end up saying if and but
I lied to myself right from the start
And Ive just worked out that Im falling apart
Sitting on a fence
Sitting on a fence is a man who looks up to his guardian
Sitting on a fence is a man who swings from poll to poll
Sitting on a fence is a man who sees both sides of both sides
Sitting on a fence is a man who looks down on opinion
But the real problem with this man
Is he says he cant when he can
Hes rather not get his hands dirty
Hell still be there when he is thirty
I told myself to keep my mouth shut
But I still end up saying if and but
I lied to myself right from the start
And Ive just worked out that Im falling apart
Sitting on a fence
song performed by by Housemartins

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The curious cat
As I walk down the street it's there all the time
just sitting there still as can be at the window
this beautiful looking Black shiny cat.
And when I walk back past the cats house
it's still there sitting staring out at it's world.
Now and then I stop and stare back at it
the cats feline eyes looking curiously at me
I wonder what it's thinking and seeing.
What have you seen today I wonder
have you just sat there in your usual place
observing and taking in all that you see?
You are beautiful and mysterious
just sitting there at the window sill
watching the world go by and by.
poem by Kevin Halls

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Playing my little guytar
Playing my little guitar
A new song I start to write
The rhymes come so fast
In the space, the imagination fly
Playing my little guitar
The rhymes become funny to eyes
I start to wish something different
Becoming true the others lies
So the birds start to dance in the floor
And the fishes to fly in the sky
Everything is becoming funny
So, I forget my little guitar, why?
So let it go, let it invent
The world is so beautiful, you don't need to pretend
The tears become a smile
The hate becomes funny for a while
And everything becomes true the imagination
Playing my little guitar
Letting fly my little heart
To something that always you can keep.
poem by Ianne de Angel

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Watching For Pa
Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
poem by Henry Clay Work

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Flippity Floppity Plop
am sitting by the side of a pond,
the fresh morning crisp,
full of new born oxygen,
waiting to meet my lungs
am sitting watching still waters,
the liquid surface glassy,
thin like gossamer,
unbroken by bulbous eyed frogs
am sitting inhaling the silken fog,
the moist sweetness enlivening
wispy blanket around,
wrapping me in my thoughts
am sitting listening to birds,
deep distant sounds,
some quarreling, others singing,
my eardrums playing along
am sitting giving nature company,
lilies quietly rubbing their eyes
lazy morning stretching her arms,
sunlight plucking his guitar
am sitting by the side of awe,
when a cheery little fish
breaks through the surface
and flips me a good morning plop
poem by Prathap Suthan

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Songs from YOUr Corner
Who were you playing those songs for?
The songs you played, staring at us
Whispering dangerous secrets with
Your friend sitting in the Corner.
Was it for a reason, Or a dream?
So
Who were you playing those songs for?
While you stared at her and me...
January 2008
dedicated to the crazy dream and memories of a happiness between sweet you and little me.
poem by Gee Cii Schnider

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Sitting In My Hotel
If my friends could see me now, driving round just like a film star,
In a chauffeur driven jam jar, they would laugh.
They would all be saying that its not really me,
They would all be asking who Im trying to be.
If my friends could see me now,
Looking out my hotel window,
Dressed in satin strides and two-tone daisy roots,
If my friends could see me now I know they would smile.
Sitting in my hotel, hiding from the dramas of this great big world,
Seven stories high, looking at the world go by-y.
Sitting in my hotel room, thinking about the countryside and sunny days in june.
Trying to hide the gloom, sitting in my hotel room.
If my friends could see me now, dressing up in my bow-tie,
Prancing round the room like some outrageous poove,
They would tell me that Im just being used
They would ask me what Im trying to prove.
They would see me in my hotel,
Watching late shows till the morning,
Writing songs for old time vaudeville revues.
All my friends would ask me what its all leading to.
Sitting in my hotel, looking through the window at the people in the street,
Seven stories high looking at the world go by,
Sitting in my hotel, looking at the world outside.
If my friends could see me now they would try to understand me,
They would ask me what on earth Im trying to prove.
All my friends would ask me what its all leading to.
song performed by by Kinks

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saracen woman!
I'll see you there
weaving in the rock
turning the wheel
continuous and numbing
using your hands sticking your fingers
weaving yarns in his unfinished story
trapped, lonely
I'll see you there
No need to be
Mother or Wife
An enchanted Moorish
sitting on her stone bewitched
guarding his treasure for herself
forgotten, dreamy
I'll see you there
causing nightmares
singing their songs
telling their stories
leaving their children in the window
just to see the pine tree rocking
no chances, forced
I'll see you there
passionate for your lost love
being what you dont want to be
draw into wires spinning
sitting on her tinny place and
embroidering!
Goodbye Mom! !
poem by Mirna Morgan

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A Lover's Melody or And from the Oboe Came a Pretty Sound
And from the oboe came a pretty sound
The crescendo called love
From the bell that was his lover's heart
More beautiful than anything
Vivaldi could compose
True, she was an oboe
Alone, in an orchestra of drums, saxophones, and pianos
But she met a guitar
A beautifully carved acoustic instrument
That made a sound like no other
She'd ever heard
Together they made sweet, sweet music
The love-struck oboe wanted to stay
With the guitar, cut a deal, and
Make some records
But, alas, the guitar
Was completely unaware
Of the melody the oboe was playing
From the oboe came a pretty sound
And the guitar, he sung back
Of the returned love
The oboe was looking for,
It was a tune of lament—sad and slow
For he knew he could not give her
What she desired
So he set himself on fire
And from the guitar came a descend
When the oboe found her lover she
picked up what was left of he
and put it in a box of oak
and sailed it off to sea
the oboe knew no sad songs
but she wanted to sing him a tune
so on the beautiful sunset on June
she hummed him what she knew…
…and from the oboe came a pretty sound
poem by Alecia Carroll

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Bottom
Lift your head up from the clouds
I know that you're shaking
Breaking down
How could you leave me
Garbage can
Never want to be your understand
Help me
Help me
Help me
Help me
Lord can you help me get this weight off my shoulders
Can you help me I think I'm getting older
The pain that you left me deep within
How can I live living in sin
And you know that I've tried
And you know
Lord knows I've tried every day of my life
Sitting at the bottom, sitting at the bottom with you
Sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom, sitting at the bottom
How many times I gotta say
That you're never ever gonna get your way
Down in the gutter as I decay
Where you gonna leave me
Let me be
Help me
Help me
Help me
Help me understand
And you know that I've tried
Don't you know
Lord knows I've tried every day of my life
Sitting at the bottom, I'm sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom with you
Now I'm sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom, sitting at the bottom with you
[x2]
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will never hurt me
[x2]
Sticks and stones breaking my bones
No your words aren't never gonna hurt me
And you know that I've tried
And you know
Lord knows I've tried every day of my life
Sitting at the bottom, sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom with you
Now i'm sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom with you
I'm just sitting at the bottom with you
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Purple Sage
Purple sage is a beautiful thing,
Flowering in violet,
In winter or spring.
The leaves vary from silver to green,
It grows wild in Texas,
Of the wild it's the king.
Flowers are white, purple, or pink,
But only the purple,
Makes you mind stop and think.
Songs and stories, have come down through time,
Of the purple sage,
In it's inhospitable climes.
If your'e ever in Texas, come check it out,
Cause the purple sage,
Is what Texas is about.
11/15/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez

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Under The Lulu Tree (A nonsense poem.)
Sitting under the lulu tree
nothing makes sense at all.
The world feels as if it’s upside down
and any minute you are going to fall off.
I know this all sounds crazy,
but sitting under the lulu tree
is just how you are going to feel.
You will think the moon is green
and filled with cheddar cheese
and if you look out the window, twice
three blind mice will pass
carrying a slice on their knees.
No, I have not been having a tipple
from the good old mountain dew;
I’ve just been sitting under the lulu tree.
Now you have read this nonsense
please come and join me
and we’ll all sit together
under the lulu tree.
18 September 2008
poem by David Harris

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Katy Brought My Guitar Back Today
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I left it there to play, when I'd stay over.
And I remember all those nights
Sitting in the fireplace light,
And how she loved to hear me play;
Katy brought my guitar back today.
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I've seen it make her cry, over and over.
She told me when I wasn't there,
And she would wake up feelin' scared,
She'd hold it in her arms and be okay;
Katy brought my guitar back today.
We had our stormy times like anybody else;
Oh, more than once I broke her heart.
And when I couldn't tell her I was sorry by myself;
I could tell her with an old guitar.
But, I'm afraid this time things have gone too far.
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I guess that means this time it's really over.
And as I sit and play it now,
The songs all seem so sad, somehow,
I wish that I'd of left it in the case
Katy brought my guitar back today.
And I remember all those nights
Sitting in the fireplace light,
And how she loved to hear me play;
Katy brought my guitar back today...
song performed by by Alabama

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open Road
I'm sitting at the wheel
I got a green light
Not afraid of nothin' cuz heart and soul
I'm built for life
So let the engine roar
Push the pedal down
I want the white lines on the highway
To lead me out of town
I'm rolling on and on and on
Who knows where I'm goin'?
Life is an open road - it's the best story never told
It's an endless sky - it's the deepest sea
Life is an open road to me
Life is an open road to me
I got headlights to guide me thru the night
I got the window down and the radio playing
It makes me feel alive
song performed by by Bryan Adams

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vissions From My Window
Pollution, death and dispair
vissions from my window, sitting on my chair
Endless disease surrounds our air
vissions from my window, sitting on my chair
Every minute gone by, worser conditions
many believe, they are solved with petitions
Lesser accolades, for a job well done
hospitality fading, generosity gone
Tensions growing, can be cut with a knife
education failing, changing our life
Brung on by people who do not care
brung on by people who wont play fair
Vissions from my window, sitting on my chair.
poem by White Tiger

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Vamos A Bailar
a spanish guitar
playing the flamenco
vamos a bailar
i cannot imagine
why are we still
all sitting here?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Picture Of A Little Boy
I have a lovely picture
Set in a golden frame;
A picture of a little boy,
I do not know his name.
He's sitting by a waggon,
Upon an old car-tyre;
To know just what he's thinking
Would be my heart's desire.
He seems so small and helpless,
And troubled in his mind;
But one, more cute than he,
I doubt that you could ever find.
His hair is blonde and beautiful,
His eyes the deepest blue;
He sits there like 'The thinker'
Debating what to do.
I love this little picture
That's hanging on my wall;
This picture of a little boy
So young and very small;
He looks a perfect mixture
Of two boys that I once knew;
Just sitting in time's window,
And I am looking through.
Written Oct 1994
poem by John Carter Brown

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