*it's over now*

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πŸŒ‘πŸŒ’πŸŒ“βœ¨πŸšͺ-=*INTRO*=-πŸšͺβœ¨πŸŒ–πŸŒ—πŸŒ˜

INTRO

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*πŸŒͺ.SOUNDπŸŒ₯πŸŽ™πŸŒ©CLOUDS.πŸŒͺ*

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*🎬✨CLIPSβœ¨πŸ“½*

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*🎸✨CHORDS✨🎸*

SCORE

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*🎼✨LYRICS✨✍️*

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🧫πŸ₯ΌπŸ§ͺ✨BEHIND THE MUSIC✨πŸ§ͺπŸ₯ΌπŸ‹οΈβ€β™€οΈ

THEMES

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πŸ€–β˜ οΈπŸ›‘β™žβš”οΈπŸ›‘ENSEMBLEπŸ›‘βš”οΈβ™˜πŸ’€πŸ€–

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βœ¨βš‘οΈπŸ”ŒπŸŽ€πŸŒŒPRODUCTIONπŸŒŒπŸŽ€πŸ”Œβš‘οΈβœ¨

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πŸ•΄πŸŽ«πŸŽ­βœ¨PERFORMANCEβœ¨πŸŽ­πŸŽ«πŸ•΄

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*βœ¨πŸ¦„πŸ“–βœ¨STORYLINESβœ¨πŸ“–πŸ¦„βœ¨*

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πŸ‘ŽπŸ€·β€β™‚οΈπŸ‘©β€βš–οΈπŸ™€*REVIEWS*πŸ˜»πŸ‘¨β€βš–οΈπŸ€·β€β™‚οΈπŸ‘

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πŸŒŒπŸŒ“πŸŒ”πŸŒ•πŸŽ†πŸŒƒ-=*OUTRO*=-πŸŒƒπŸŽ†πŸŒ–πŸŒ—πŸŒ˜πŸŒŒ

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(brian wilson)

(from bootleg album “adult child”)
(from 1977)

(4:4 / 65bpm / F#major + F#minor)

VERSE:

(F#maj7) (F#6) (C#maj7) (C#msus4)

(F#maj7) (F#6) (C#maj7) (C#m7sus4) (Bdim Bmaj7 Bsus2)

(Bbm Bbmsus4 Bbm Bbmsus4 Bbm7sus2)

(D#7) (G#msus4 G#m G#msus2) (Bmaj7)

(F#6 F#sus4) (C#dim) (D#+) (D#7)

(G# G#sus4 G#m) (C#dim C#dim/B C#dim)

(F# F#sus4 F#) (G#m G#msus2 G#m)

(B Bdim B B6) (Gsus2 G Gdim G F#maj7)

(F#6 F#maj7 F#6)

CHORUS:

(F#m F#m7) (B7) (E6 Emaj7 E6 E)

(Em7) (A7) (D6 Dmaj7 D6 D) (G#m7)

last night i told off my final female friend (16-year-old “heather lynn smith”).  it seemed appropriate (she was extolling the musical virtues of some accordion-playing comic-con performer and called me a “worthless 30-year-old”).

finally i ran over to “hoagie haven” sometime before midnight (ordering a foot-long cheese-steak with onions and hot peppers over the phone).  they all sell the same brand of iced tea ’round these parts (“fuze”).  i spent around $9 in all on the meal (plus another $2.50 at the “ivy inn” ATM).  at least they didn’t charge me a cover to be admitted!

i was in bed for damn near 12 hours (12 – 12)

first i dreamt of an airplane crash.  i made it out alive but found it quite difficult to exit the plane…

then i dreamt of a parking lot (it seemed a hybrid of watchung + long hill).  i was playing one of my songs for my former guitar teacher “don rodrigo”.  the song (“don juan rodrigo”) was dedicated to him.  he merely criticized the chord progression.  then i entered my mother’s car (we were headed to some dentist’s appointment?)

then i dreamt of watchung hills. Β there was some sort of academic/political debate being moderated by a “bill maher” type in the auditorium (i’d fallen asleep to a “real time with bill maher” playlist). Β they were discussing mitt romney’s income tax returns. Β most of the panel members appeared decidedly “urban” (with funky hairdos to boot). Β finally some mild-mannered indian man worked up the courage to speak as the host congratulatedly patted him on the back. Β then the group walked to the cafeteria. Β i was walking with jeff bassman as he told me he “wished he got the grades that i did”. Β i tried my best to catch up with brad lubeck (who was walking far ahead of the pack). Β instead, i caught up with danielle naccarato. Β i tried to show her a photo i took of her on my iphone but she was thoroughly disgusted (“have you been drinking bleach?”) Β so i went to the men’s room where some bozo was discussing the recent debate as he pissed into a urinal (“i’m starting to really like romney…”) Β 

dean abel entered the bathroom…

upon entering the cafeteria, i noted they were serving hot dogs and melted cheese everywhere (there were even servers delivering plates to individual tables).

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*WIKI-LINK*

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πŸ‘ˆπŸ‘ˆπŸ‘ˆβ˜œ*SONGS OF ‘THE BEACH BOYS’* ☞ πŸ‘‰πŸ‘‰πŸ‘‰

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πŸ’•πŸ’πŸ’–πŸ’“πŸ–€πŸ’™πŸ–€πŸ’™πŸ–€πŸ’™πŸ–€β€οΈπŸ’šπŸ’›πŸ§‘β£οΈπŸ’žπŸ’”πŸ’˜β£οΈπŸ§‘πŸ’›πŸ’šβ€οΈπŸ–€πŸ’œπŸ–€πŸ’™πŸ–€πŸ’™πŸ–€πŸ’—πŸ’–πŸ’πŸ’˜

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*🌈✨ *TABLE OF CONTENTS* ✨🌷*

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πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯*we won the war* πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯πŸ”₯