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Mexico

As I may have mentioned before, I am a huge fan of cruises. Although I haven't gone on one yet this year, I usually go on at least one or two every year. Where the cruise actually goes is wholly unimportant to me. Half the time I sleep through the stops anyway, and just stay on the boat. I just like having no cell phone, having great food available 24/7, and sitting on the back of the boat watching the waves.

It takes a certain type of person to enjoy a cruise. Usually that person is an old person. My friend Jonah and I are the two exceptions. I think we've gone on two cruises together, and each time we were the only people remotely close to our age. So much for meeting the hot ladies pirate-style.

On one such cruise we woke up at our usual time - 3pm. The boat was docked in Mexico, and was leaving at 5:30, meaning that everyone had to be on the boat at 5.

The Boy In the Room

On Where Pianos Roam

[caption id="attachment_762" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Photo by Gordon Roque"][/caption] I just posted another song from my album on myspace.  It's a quiet little ballad with piano, acoustic guitar, and chamberlain.  This is the song that opens up my album "Seahorses". I vividly remember when I wrote this song.  It was a slow build over a few months during my last year living in Charlotte, NC.  I was living in the university area north of uptown at the time and was heading home after work.  It was one of those long summer days when the Sun seemed to refuse to set.  I looked up as I was driving through my neighborhood from work and was awestruck by the sky.  Hues of golden yellow, orange, billowy white, and the lightest of blues cascaded up above the earth.  Of course, it was just another late afternoon in the south, but it felt like there was something magical in the sky--something so far removed from these comparitively mundane lives we live. I was five blocks from my house when the idea for a song popped into my head.  I started to hum a melody to the words "I wonder why .  .  .".  As soon as I parked the car, I rummaged around my truck for a pen and paper.  Not finding any paper, I tore off a piece of a cardboard box and just started writing.    I remember writing the words "I wonder why he's blue as the sky', and the rest was history.  I sat there in my truck and parked in my driveway for half an hour just writing a bunch of lyrics.  Through the next few weeks, that melody I hummed came to me at the piano.  I coaxed it out of hiding, and it exists for all to hear on my album. During that whole year, I was at a crossroad in my life.  Feeling compelled to leave Charlotte towards an adventure unknown.  Feeling all the fears and uncertainty that come with tumultuous change.  As I wrote this song, I was thinking about the idea of freedom within the realm of imprisonment--a dichotomy and a coexistance. I've often said during many of my shows that this song in particular is blatantly about me.   Well, it is, actually--in more ways than I care to count or dare to mention. Here are the lyrics:

Lyrics and Music by Gordon Roque © 2008 Gordon Roque BMI (All Rights Reserved) He's the boy in the room Who stands on his own Could it be that he's not So alone He stands as he stares out of his window As the sun shines down Chorus: And I wonder why He's blue as the sky He roams in a world Where lullabies swirl As a caged bird sings As a caged bird sings He goes far away To places unknown And he runs from his own shadow He walks through a path To a beat he follows As the songs fill his soul Something carries him away From where doors close below Something hurries him to shelter Away from the cold Something quietly sings a melody As he lives and breathes _________________________________ I was honestly tickled pink when I finished this song.  It was a sense of accomplishment that embraced me so lovingly. I am very proud of this song.  It is a graceful, elegant, and understated testament to this life that I have lived. I am now so proud to share it all with you. Just click here to hear it for yourself. More to come soon. -gordo

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