"Life's a Rolling Bus" (The Demiurge)

The Demiurge took a ticket for everyone will like this song, he is backing on track and in 70's again... so anyway, dont forget, STOP THE WAR, STOP IT NOW.. and take together a Bus ride through life... [PRODUCTION: Polished, Layered, Rich Sound, Studio Recording, Hi-Fidelity] [EMOTIONS: Enchanting, Intimate, Nostalgic, Smooth] [Intro] (Instrumental and vocal harmonies) Ooh, rolling down the line Ooh, take your time Feel the wheels keep turning, keep turning [Vocal choir builds: "Oohs" layered with brass section] [Verse 1] The engine hums as the morning light breaks Past city streets that rise like old monuments Fields stretch out like oceans in the heartland A diner’s sign flickers in the cool blue air Voices change from the mountains to the coast Each word a trace of a world I’ll never fully know [Pre-Chorus] Ooh, the miles unwind like a melody Ooh, the road keeps showing me what I’ve yet to see [Chorus] (Full harmonized choir) Life’s a rolling bus, it moves and it sways Different places, different faces, no two the same Attitudes and voices, traditions and names Life keeps moving, like the wheels on the plains [Verse 2] The desert feels timeless, the sky wide and endless A man tells me stories of his hometown, forgotten now The mountains carry a silence that speaks louder than words Every stop feels like another chapter in a book I didn’t write Food changes in every hand I shake, spices I’ve never known The past clings to these roads like dust on the windows [Pre-Chorus] Ooh, the journey’s calling me softly Ooh, the wheels are my constant company [Chorus] (Full harmonized choir, brass accents) Life’s a rolling bus, it moves and it sways Different places, different faces, no two the same Attitudes and voices, traditions and names Life keeps moving, like the wheels on the plains [Bridge] (Instrumental with vocal ad-libs and choir) [Guitar solo trades off with brass section, vocal harmonies build in the background] Ooh, take me down that winding road Ooh, where the stories are untold [Verse 3] A clapboard church on a Sunday morning feels like home A bluesy rhythm sneaks out of a roadside bar, smoky and warm The accents shift again, a woman laughs as she hands me sweet tea History leans on the towns I pass, whispering its secrets Every mile leaves something behind, but something new begins The bus keeps moving, never waiting for long