Friday, March 7, 2008


I was working on some lyrics a while back. In addition to the meter not working at all, I found most of the lines annoying, depressing, and pretentious. Now, I find them kind of a Sylvia Plath kind of way...


There's pictures in my head,
Of mistakes I have made,
Memories of a perfect life,
And the years I threw way.

I'll get drunk tonight,
Dream of things I know ain't real,
I'll pretend that I'm in love,
While lonely laughs at how I feel.

I wish this place would just burn down,
I wouldn't even try for the door,
I'd wrap myself in all these blankets,
While fire licks whiskey up off the floor.

I string together good days,
But the stitching never holds,
The needle digs inside of me,
Makes me shiver like the cold,

I bury my head in useless hands,
Staring down in an empty cup,
It takes all I've got to try to breath,
And nothing to give up.

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