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BLOOMY TOM DISTORTED (reworking of instrumental track by Silvio Vinci)
Tom came down on a Saturday night, boots full of dust and his head too light, radio screaming from a Chevrolet, he said, “Don’t ask questions — just get outta my way.”
He had a black coat, a crooked smile, a broken watch running backwards all the while.
Bloooomy Tom — distorted! Shake it till the walls come down. Bloooomy Tom — distorted! Turn that dirty sound around.
Neon buzzing over number nine, cheap red wine and a warning sign, someone shouted, “Tom, you lost your mind!” He just laughed and left the world behind.
Bloooomy Tom — distorted! Nothing straight and nothing clean. Bloooomy Tom — distorted! Living somewhere in between.
Turn it up! Let it crack! Push it forward — don’t look back!
BLOOMY TOM! BLOOMY TOM! DISTORTED!
He disappeared when the morning came, left three chords and a burning name.
Bloooomy Tom — distorted… Bloooomy Tom — distorted…
