stendhal
06/15/08, 01:39 AM
I'm about to embark recording on a concept album that has 3 short songs spread throughout. They are the following:
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A Brief Sentiment Amidst the Fire's Lament
I thought to take the fire escape
to a better place
with diction less trite than true.
But sat there quiet
as the flames went on
cackling more trite than true.
After 3/4ths of a bottle of vodka
3 sheets to the wind
6 inches from his face
and 1 foot above my bed
think of me, honey.
-------------------------------------------------
Five Drinks Into the Evening
The hem of her Sunday dress
takes one slight moment
to join the rest in the pirouette
but her body eventually brings it around
and soon they're pivotting
across the dance floor
then the sound drowns out
then the sound drowns out.
She strikes me down, not dead, but tranquil
lulls me static, motionless, and still
It's all i can do to take my eyes off her
and damn near impossible
to think of anyone else.
damn near impossible
to think of anything else.
--------------------------------------------
Backhanded Clocks and Empathy
I sat down with the clock today
to find common ground with my enemy
he's very calculating
and oh, so intimidating
my palms were sweating
hands: shaking
lighting nervous smoke after smoke.
There we were
sitting across from each other
Both addicts without resolve
Both killing ourselves
Me, with nicotine
and the clock, every second, slaying time
Niether one of us can stop.
He leaned torwards me and said
'Empathy, my dear friend...
without it, we'll never make it
down the fire escape.'
-------------------------------------------------
A Brief Sentiment Amidst the Fire's Lament
I thought to take the fire escape
to a better place
with diction less trite than true.
But sat there quiet
as the flames went on
cackling more trite than true.
After 3/4ths of a bottle of vodka
3 sheets to the wind
6 inches from his face
and 1 foot above my bed
think of me, honey.
-------------------------------------------------
Five Drinks Into the Evening
The hem of her Sunday dress
takes one slight moment
to join the rest in the pirouette
but her body eventually brings it around
and soon they're pivotting
across the dance floor
then the sound drowns out
then the sound drowns out.
She strikes me down, not dead, but tranquil
lulls me static, motionless, and still
It's all i can do to take my eyes off her
and damn near impossible
to think of anyone else.
damn near impossible
to think of anything else.
--------------------------------------------
Backhanded Clocks and Empathy
I sat down with the clock today
to find common ground with my enemy
he's very calculating
and oh, so intimidating
my palms were sweating
hands: shaking
lighting nervous smoke after smoke.
There we were
sitting across from each other
Both addicts without resolve
Both killing ourselves
Me, with nicotine
and the clock, every second, slaying time
Niether one of us can stop.
He leaned torwards me and said
'Empathy, my dear friend...
without it, we'll never make it
down the fire escape.'