From the love-gone-bad chronicles.
The music is original, creative and from the heart. I hope you have as much fun listening as I had making it. Thanks for tuning in. Keep fighting the good fig
'Perfusion' is the moniker for this one-man musical juggernaut. I record all of my own material in the basement, after the kids are asleep! One track has a female backing vocal but all the rest is just l'il ol me. About 2/3 of the songs were done using Studio One - 3 and ProTools computer based software and the others on the Boss BR 1180 free-standing workstation.
In 2015 and 2016, string orchestra pieces I wrote were features in the season with the Turtle Creek Chamber Orchestra. In 2011 I was honored to receive the Janesville Arts Council People's Choice Award for Outstanding CD/Song for "I Married the Prom Queen"...
Story behind the song
From the love-gone-bad chronicles. This version is completely rerecoreded from the ground up on ProTools. Instruments include violin, acoustic, electric and bass guitars, harp-voiced keyboard, drum machine and 2 vocal tracks.
Lyrics
Outside The Box
We were kids, just barely old enough to dream,
We ruled the world, with colored hair and faded jeans,
The future then was shining bright enough to blind us,
We made love like fools and never turned to look behind us,
Didnt know you then, but knew I had to feel your heartbeat,
Didnt know about love just couldnt bear to be apart,
Your curse was learning how love barges in and never knocks,
My curse was thus, I never thought outside the box,
When did it leave, you know that sparkle in the night,
Where was I when the summer breeze succumbed to polar ice,
Where was I when the passion play became connect the dots,
And sink or swim, I learned to think outside the box.
It seems surreal, but now I hang my head and grieve,
So recent was the tryst that saved me when I didnt believe,
So recent was the time Id lift my eyes and sigh,
For sadness and at once the truth I lift my eyes and cry,
The secrets safe, I promise I wont tell a soul,
This picture perfect Stepford house I know youre keeping just for show,
You ask me will I keep it mum and never tell a soul,
Wont tip your hand to the few that dont already know,
You roll away to never help me up again,
Ill spend some time, lament about the time Ive spent,
I can see right through the steam from throwing water on the rocks,
My curse is this, Ive learned to think outside the box,
And this charade, with plastic smiles and pantomime,
Cant worry every night bout filling space or keeping time,
Cant keep on punching walls and worrying bout going blind,
Or marking time, and coveting what isnt mine,
M. Kopnick, 2004
