For the words of the profits
Were written on the studio wall
Concert hall
Echoes with the sounds of salesmen
Of salesman, of salesmen
It’s more about the bribe thing rather than honest selling.
Funny after all these years that even just reading those lyrics, I get an aural hallucination of the crowd roar and that epic whistle after the words “concert hall.”
Goose bumps. Every. Single. Time.
RIP Neil Peart...
(On a side note, in researching my family tree, I found that one of my cousins in Ontario married a Peart. I’ve gone back ten generations, and while I have plenty of common names like Emerson back in Durham, England, can’t seem to find a true connection between that family and Neil’s)