Rupert Holmes - Studio Musician lyrics

I am a studio musician
We've never met, but you know me well
I am the English horn that
Played the poignant counter-line
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
Pulling my five a week
I'm the voice through which empty
Men try to speak a studio musician
Blowing the chance I seek



And when the woodwind cushion rises
I start to dream with the low brass bed
And I reject the riffs and Hendrix
Licks they've paid me for
That I've played before
Instead, they want what I hear in my head
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-in trade
Singles, jingles, and demos conveniently made
A studio musician
Whose music will die unplayed