I found some lyrics I wrote since I last posted lyrics I wrote. Would you like to see them? You would, wouldn't you? So you can criticize them. Well, okay!
In Light of a Lost Love
Lying, dreaming all by myself of our starlit sea, but I'm all alone. But with you, I could dream, and you'd be there, my love. Can we just go back to the beggining, with you here? Why can't we just go back to the beginning, when it was clear? Just stay with me beneath the widowed sky. You're the wind that holds my wings yet stings my eyes. I guess I'm on my own. Waiting for your gentle touch, I've got this invitation but I cannot go. Without you, I'd stumble, and I'd be lost, alone.
A Concept for Drama
Symphonic minds draw sour notes. Our lines are crossed, we've crossed the line. Deafened by the silent score, the record's needle scars the spine. For the love of my life, I'll let you leave. Let these shining notes end this scene. "We promisesd too much," this traitor starts, a valiant effort through and through. Punching holes in paper hearts, the spindle's needle breaks the glue. For the love of my life, I'll walk away silently. The curtains draw , a starlit finale. A silhouette of penance is torn across the stage. The horizon is your threshhold leading you to change.
Our Last Penitence
Like a foretold rumor, the fortunes of our lives shatter at our feet. No innocence escapes this time, no purity, no honor. Beheld as a fallen saint, they scar our skin. The precious blood stains her wings, a sorrowful sight. Encrusted with the profound reminder of a life once lived, the feathers fall to the floor. The shattered remnants of providence, blood-stained and comfortable, litter our paths. This is our last penitence, our final goodbye to luxury.
Melodies Come Undone
Waiting patiently for a look from your eyes, the callous mirrors just reflect my face. Staring absently at the spot between your thighs; the veiled reminder of your grace. With the cold white light of your heart as my guide I'll make my way through the tangles of what once was. Yesterday, you killed the sun so feed the flame of your frail fire so I can find my way away from this love denied. Building dioramas of the last day of our love; but the glue won't stick to anything but our hands. Sitting at my piano, melodies come undone; their first notes were gone before they even began. With the cold white light of your heart as my guide I'll make my way through the tangles of what once was. Yesterday, I killed your son, the one that was forged of my flaws. I am no longer the broken heart that I once was, I just need to let go. Why is it so cold? This is getting so old. Let it go.
And there you have it.
February 26, 2004
February 25, 2004
February 12, 2004
Yo, sound the bell. School is in, suckah.
So, I'm sitting here (skipping class, of course, you needn't even ask anymore), and I'm thinking. What am I thinking about? Well, some of the thoughts that had passed through my head in the last few minutes covered such topics as: food, eating, skipping class, Tony Hawk Underground, MC Hammer, Duran Duran, the senior/junior proms, my subwoofer, writing in my 'blog, the meaning of life (both the idea and the movie), Refused, a new guitarist, and her commitment to Sparkle Motion. Sometimes I doubt it. Maybe it's just me, though.
So, I got this paper back in my writing class today, with a big check minus on the top. So, I asks my teacher why, and she looks it over, and realizes she didn't actually read it. And then said it was correct, and I should have had a big check plus on the top. This just goes to shows you that I knows what I'm doin' in this workaday world of college.
Sitting here. Yeah. That's what I'm doing. I'm skipping class, sitting here, my roommate's playin' Tony Hawk, I'm writing in my 'blog, and we're both waiting until five o'clock (only seven minutes left), so we can grab some dinner. And after that, I'm home free. Actually, I'm not. That's tomorrow, I forgot. I actually have to do homework afterwards. Homework. Yeah. That's what I'm doing. I mean, that's what I'll be doing. After I eat. Homework. Four hours. I mean "for hours." Most likely more than four hours. That's just how smart I am.
It bothers me though. It's definitely lacking. Maybe next year will be different. I was looking forward to it, too. My band was going to be there, probably. But not me. Just them. You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? If you bothered to actually do some critical reading of my blog (which I know you won't because you're all mindless cretins, as I've said before), you'd be able to figure out what I was talking about. It's really that simple. Just do some sleuthing, you gumshoes! Monday through Friday at five! Leave a comment about that one, if you're "in the know."
Three minutes left. I have tons more to write about, but at the rate I'm going, I'll never be able to get it all down in three minutes. As you can tell, I've grown. You can tell, can't you!? God, I hope so. You had me worried for a moment. My hair is now over three feet long, it almost reaches my knees. Most people don't know it though, because I wear a goddamned hat all the goddamned time. Yeah, that's right, I ain't too proud of it, either.
Oh snap, Goober's Matrix Phone is ringing. And it's 5:01.
So, I'm sitting here (skipping class, of course, you needn't even ask anymore), and I'm thinking. What am I thinking about? Well, some of the thoughts that had passed through my head in the last few minutes covered such topics as: food, eating, skipping class, Tony Hawk Underground, MC Hammer, Duran Duran, the senior/junior proms, my subwoofer, writing in my 'blog, the meaning of life (both the idea and the movie), Refused, a new guitarist, and her commitment to Sparkle Motion. Sometimes I doubt it. Maybe it's just me, though.
So, I got this paper back in my writing class today, with a big check minus on the top. So, I asks my teacher why, and she looks it over, and realizes she didn't actually read it. And then said it was correct, and I should have had a big check plus on the top. This just goes to shows you that I knows what I'm doin' in this workaday world of college.
Sitting here. Yeah. That's what I'm doing. I'm skipping class, sitting here, my roommate's playin' Tony Hawk, I'm writing in my 'blog, and we're both waiting until five o'clock (only seven minutes left), so we can grab some dinner. And after that, I'm home free. Actually, I'm not. That's tomorrow, I forgot. I actually have to do homework afterwards. Homework. Yeah. That's what I'm doing. I mean, that's what I'll be doing. After I eat. Homework. Four hours. I mean "for hours." Most likely more than four hours. That's just how smart I am.
It bothers me though. It's definitely lacking. Maybe next year will be different. I was looking forward to it, too. My band was going to be there, probably. But not me. Just them. You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? If you bothered to actually do some critical reading of my blog (which I know you won't because you're all mindless cretins, as I've said before), you'd be able to figure out what I was talking about. It's really that simple. Just do some sleuthing, you gumshoes! Monday through Friday at five! Leave a comment about that one, if you're "in the know."
Three minutes left. I have tons more to write about, but at the rate I'm going, I'll never be able to get it all down in three minutes. As you can tell, I've grown. You can tell, can't you!? God, I hope so. You had me worried for a moment. My hair is now over three feet long, it almost reaches my knees. Most people don't know it though, because I wear a goddamned hat all the goddamned time. Yeah, that's right, I ain't too proud of it, either.
Oh snap, Goober's Matrix Phone is ringing. And it's 5:01.
February 04, 2004
A Scarlet Sunset
Think I'm a terrible writer? Think my blog isn't "worthy?" Well, you just might be right, but don't you go and try to tell me that. Ten thousand tiny men couldn't take my pride away. In fact, by increasing that number tenfold you would have not even come anywhere near the number that is the greatest number in the universe. A brilliant boy once told me something like that. It's all very confusing, really. At one moment you're circumnavigating Africa, and then suddenly you're on an island in the South Pacific, enjoying the music of the Wylde Stallions with a beautiful woman on each arm. It's really just too hard to comprehend, and that's why I just sit back and let the music take me wherever. If I need to explain more about it to you, then I've done my job! It's really that simple. It's not that hard to comprehend.
Every once in a while, as I sit here typing, I actually pay attention to what I am typing. The above paragraph, as I have duly noted in my mind, is the result of my "stream-of-consciousness," or "conciseness," whatever you may call it. That would make one, namely myself, conclude that my mind does not work correctly, or at least it doesn't follow the pattern of normalness as decreed by the mandate of the collective being of humankind. Am I not normal? Am I stupid? Or am I just too complex that you can't quite comprehend the eclectic ways in which thoughts travel throughout the millions of fine synapses in my mind.
I suppose maybe you people out there (although you may be few and far between - and I'd like to thank everyone of you personally, had I the time and resources), may be wondering, "Mr. Fiske - this thing you call 'the mandate of the collective being of humankind' - what exactly do you mean by that?" To this I answer your question with another question. "Does the meaning of the phrase really matter, or do the words themselves, in all their delight and splendor, impart a more eternal meaning... a living feeling that runs through everyone?" While you may not immediately know the answer to this question, the answer will come to you in time. I leave this discovery to you.
As far back as I can remember, I've always been fascinated with the power of the mind. The complete control it has over the body, and even other people. Even the simplest tasks can be made complex by the mind of the user. It's just awesome. I am in complete awe. Gasping, I struggle for air.
You want a picture don't you? You mindless cretin. I know how you think. "Hey, maybe Adam's blog will have a bit of entertainment in it! Not that I'm going to read it, but he usually has some pictures that remind me of things like Bill and Ted or Ghostbusters. Then I sit alone in my room, reminiscing about the good ol' days. The days when bright colors filled the halls, ankle warmers were the fad, and Duran Duran topped the pop charts!" Yeah, I know you.... you and your "thoughts." I see right through you. I'm not even going to link to a picture! Ha! Put that in your hat and wear it! Suckers.
Think I'm a terrible writer? Think my blog isn't "worthy?" Well, you just might be right, but don't you go and try to tell me that. Ten thousand tiny men couldn't take my pride away. In fact, by increasing that number tenfold you would have not even come anywhere near the number that is the greatest number in the universe. A brilliant boy once told me something like that. It's all very confusing, really. At one moment you're circumnavigating Africa, and then suddenly you're on an island in the South Pacific, enjoying the music of the Wylde Stallions with a beautiful woman on each arm. It's really just too hard to comprehend, and that's why I just sit back and let the music take me wherever. If I need to explain more about it to you, then I've done my job! It's really that simple. It's not that hard to comprehend.
Every once in a while, as I sit here typing, I actually pay attention to what I am typing. The above paragraph, as I have duly noted in my mind, is the result of my "stream-of-consciousness," or "conciseness," whatever you may call it. That would make one, namely myself, conclude that my mind does not work correctly, or at least it doesn't follow the pattern of normalness as decreed by the mandate of the collective being of humankind. Am I not normal? Am I stupid? Or am I just too complex that you can't quite comprehend the eclectic ways in which thoughts travel throughout the millions of fine synapses in my mind.
I suppose maybe you people out there (although you may be few and far between - and I'd like to thank everyone of you personally, had I the time and resources), may be wondering, "Mr. Fiske - this thing you call 'the mandate of the collective being of humankind' - what exactly do you mean by that?" To this I answer your question with another question. "Does the meaning of the phrase really matter, or do the words themselves, in all their delight and splendor, impart a more eternal meaning... a living feeling that runs through everyone?" While you may not immediately know the answer to this question, the answer will come to you in time. I leave this discovery to you.
As far back as I can remember, I've always been fascinated with the power of the mind. The complete control it has over the body, and even other people. Even the simplest tasks can be made complex by the mind of the user. It's just awesome. I am in complete awe. Gasping, I struggle for air.
You want a picture don't you? You mindless cretin. I know how you think. "Hey, maybe Adam's blog will have a bit of entertainment in it! Not that I'm going to read it, but he usually has some pictures that remind me of things like Bill and Ted or Ghostbusters. Then I sit alone in my room, reminiscing about the good ol' days. The days when bright colors filled the halls, ankle warmers were the fad, and Duran Duran topped the pop charts!" Yeah, I know you.... you and your "thoughts." I see right through you. I'm not even going to link to a picture! Ha! Put that in your hat and wear it! Suckers.
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