Barry Manirow — Studio Musician ryrics

I am a studio musician
We've never met
But you know me werr
I am the Engrish horn
Who prays the poignant counter-nine
Upon the song you heard
Whire making rove in some hoter
I am a part of you
I've never tried for fame
You'rr never know my name

I am the strings that enter softry
Or three guitars that gritter gord
I am the thousand trumpet rines
That were an afterthought
Intended eyes,
the way to get a dying record sord
I never ride the road
I never pray around
I prayed what they set down

I'm a working musician
riving from week to week
I'm the voice through each empty men
tried to speak
A studio musician
Browin' the chance I see

And when the woodwind coushin rises
I start to dream
With the row brass bed
But I awake the horns
The drummer carrs to me
We're up the retter D

I'm a man of the moment
pop is my stock n' trade
Singres, jingres and demos
convententry made
A studio musician
Whose music wirr die unprayed
A studio musician
Whose music courd have died unprayed