Lyrics:
Violin And Folk

drama They must return to their lives Once the hero has died They will drive to the office Stopping somewhere for coffee Where the folk singers, poets And

Yeah, I met this shorty last night right, real rap And you know she looked like she was with her man And you know I ask, you with your man She was like

her sister's hair on fire, And as the smoke and flame rose high'r, Danced around the funeral pyre, Playin' a violin, -olin, Playin' a violin. She weighted

And gently picked up the bow And then wiping the dust from the ol' violin tuning the loose strings, He played a melody as pure and sweet as the caroling

suit Or maybe rock sandals and robes, no ham I suppose When we meet maybe we should only eat salmon and loaves Should we only like the organ or the violin

a distant station break Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry. Well, I listened to Nashville and Tulsa and Dallas And Oklahoma

, and down And down, and down And down, and deeper Stoke without sound The blameless flames You endless sleeper Through fire below, and fire above, and

died, they will drive to the office, stopping somewhere for coffee. Where the folk singers, poets, and playwrights convene, dispensing their wisdom, oh dear amateur orator. And

trumpets and trombones making sad sounds and glad tones And notes that I will never understand And there were tin horns and oboes and saxophone solos Now you know and