On Records, The Sound Just Fades Away - Greg Brown

On records the sound just fades away

The players they grow smaller and smaller

They return to their homes in the wires

With one last riff and one last holler

And did you ever make it in tha big city, pal?

Or did you crash down in some rainy alleyway?

I saw six angels wrapping you up in newspaper

Ah, but that might have been a dream

I used to lie awake when I was five years old

By the Motorola radio

I was tryin' so hard not to go to sleep

So I’d know where those little people go

And on records the sound jus' fades away

The players they grow smaller and smaller and smaller

The return to their homes in the wires and the wax and the cassettes and

The chips

With one last little riff and one last little holler

Sayin' somethin like:

Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love you, oh baby I do

Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love ya, oh baby I do

And their little outfits get smaller and smaller

An' their little guitars get tiny, tiny, tiny

And their little waa-waa pedals get down 'bout the size of a match head

An' fade away

An' even their little semi-trucks, well they get tiny, tiny

An' their lttle tour buses get smaller…

Fade away

They all gotta go back to LA

They got a big important business meeting tomorrow morning

In a 25 storey building but it’s tiny, tiny, tiny

Gotta go back to LA

I hear them singin' it as they cross the Rockies

Baby I want you, Baby I love ya', Baby I need you, Baby I do