I am a studio musician,
We've never met,
But you know me well.
I am the English horn,
Who plays the poignant counterline
Upon the song you heard
While making love in some hotel.
I am a part of you,
I've never tried for fame,
You'll never know my name.
I am the strings that enter softly,
Or three guitars
That glitter gold.
I am the thousand trumpet lines
That were an afterthought,
Intended as a way
To get a dying record sold.
I never ride the road,
I never play around,
I play what they set down.
I'm a working musician,
Living from week to week,
I'm the voice through which empty men try to speak.
A studio musician,
Blowin' the chance I seek.
And when the woodwind cushion rises,
I start to dream,
On a low brass bed,
But I awake to horns,
The drummer calls to me,
We're up to letter D.
I'm a man of the moment,
Pop is my stock and trade,
Singles, jingles, and demos,
Conveniently made.
A studio musician,
Whose music will die unplayed.
A studio musician,
Whose music could have died unplayed.
Studio Musician Lyrics performed by Barry Manilow are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Studio Musician Lyrics performed by Barry Manilow is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD