Lyrics：Rupert Holmes Music：Rupert Holmes I am a studio musician We've never met But you know me well I am the English horn Who plays the poignant counter-nine 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 eyes, the way to get a dying record sold I never ride the road I never play around I played what they set down I'm a working musician living from week to week I'm the voice through each empty men tried to speak A studio musician Blowin' the chance I see And when the woodwind coushin rises I start to dream With the low brass bed But I awake the horns The drummer calls to me We're up the letter D I'm a man of the moment Dock is my stock n trade Singles jingles and demos conventently made A studio musician Whose music will die unplayed A studio musician Whose music could have died unplayed
Lyrics：Rupert Holmes Music：Rupert Holmes I am a studio musician We've never met But you know me well I am the English horn Who plays the poignant counter-nine 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 eyes, the way to get a dying record sold I never ride the road I never play around I played what they set down I'm a working musician living from week to week I'm the voice through each empty men tried to speak A studio musician Blowin' the chance I see And when the woodwind coushin rises I start to dream With the low brass bed But I awake the horns The drummer calls to me We're up the letter D I'm a man of the moment Dock is my stock n trade Singles jingles and demos conventently made A studio musician Whose music will die unplayed A studio musician Whose music could have died unplayed
