2005-07-12 - 5:00 a.m.

I dreamt a song on Saturday night.

Well, the first two lines of a chorus, anyway. I can't remember anything of the circumstances - I think I was singing the song to myself, but within the context of the dream I hadn't made the song up - it was something in the charts, something I'd heard on the radio. And I'm sure it was a U2 song. The first line went like this:

Where the city meets the sky

Pretty good. I mean, that sounds like a Bono line, doesn't it? So convinced was I that it was something from a genuine song that I Googled it on Sunday morning. Amazingly, there are only seven matches. One indeed does seem to be a song, but by Rik MacLean, not U2. And I definitely didn't subconsciously cop it off Rik MacLean, whatever he or his punk-ass lawyers may say. It could be a composite of U2 elements - City of Blinding Lights, Bullet the Blue Sky - but sod it, it's a good line. It's a good line I made up in my sleep. Where the city meets the sky. Right on. This was the second line:

We will piss in the follicle.

Yeah. You see, this is why Bono is lead singer of the world's biggest rock band and iconic anti-poverty campaigner, and why I'm writing a blog in my underpants. It was going so well with the first line. I was in the zone, churning out the hit. And then: We will piss in the follicle. In the dream, this made perfect sense and was delivered with the same conviction as 'Where the city meets the sky'. In dawn's sober half-light, however, it didn't quite have super smash hit written all over it.

I think creativity in dreams is really interesting. I sometimes remember dreaming a story idea, or a joke or a song, but I never actually remember the story idea, joke or song. Because, I think, it never really existed. I think it's a bit like deja vu. The brain tricks itself into a memory of something that was never there. All that ever existed was the echo, the shadow, but we draw from this tantalising simulacra that somewhere just out of reach, teasingly leaping around the synapses, is a nugget of creativity borne of the subconscious, fully-formed. When what we actually create is: We will piss in the follicle. That's a proper dream lyric, isn't it? That probably says far more about me that "Where the city meets the sky" ever could. But from a songwriting point of view, it's a bit of a bugger. It's the equivalent of dreaming a fantastic premise for a murder mystery, only then to dream that the murder was carried out by a nine-foot penguin wearing a monocle and riding a motorbike made of ham. Dan Brown - our lawyers are watching.

You'll be wondering about the tune. Obviously, only an idiot would bother transcribing that nonsense and recording it as a midi file. Sigh.

If that doesn't play, or for those of a musical leaning, here's the basic score:

I know the time signature's wrong. I was very smug about dreaming something in 5/4, but actually it should be 4/4, with the emphasis on 'ci-', 'sky', and, er, 'piss'. The chord sequence, as denoted by the bass notes, is D, Am, F,G, I think. So anyway, play it if you can. because I can't Google the tune, and I want to know if I've ripped that off. You can absolutely hear Bono singing this. Even the follicle bit. Really, it has the makings of a bloody great stadium anthem. Just imagine the new Wembley stadium, a sea of lighters held aloft as eighty thousand voices sing:

We will piss in the fo-lli-cle.

To make this a reality, I need your help. Songwriters - I need you to finish the song. Come on. Someone out there must rise to the challenge and quite literally live the dream.

You only have to stick to these rules:

1. Take it seriously. We're trying to make this pass as a credible U2 soundalike. The follicle line is not a licence to reel off nonsense verse.
2. Keep the existing melody and the two lines as the first two lines of the chorus.

Mail or note me your efforts. Go on.

So yeah, anyway. I woke up in a skyscraper. And my hair was wet. Yada yada.

Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude