Studio Musician Lyrics - Barry Manilow

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. 

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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, 

Photos 

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.