it's what happens after good music is made
what is your favorite memory with me?
ok so im wrappin up pre-production for the "It's what happens after midnight" - The Medic video, so far, alls good, filming starts at their show October 29th at the Civil Center in Park Ridge feat. Those Who Hung Heroes and more, so go there people and have a good time, i'll be there filming the guys and you guys moshing to their oooh so sexxy music, everyone take a big sign saying "WE LOVE RALPH" me and becky will, so... i have demos for people, $5 for each CD, all money will go to the Medic so they can get cool gear and blow your ears away, ....no shit, so go to myspace.com/themedic or purevolume.com/themedic and check out theyre shit, haha... i love plugging those guys
november show in THS lounge (TBA): Mr. J and Soldiers of Misfortune
EMERY - WALLS
Are you listening?
we write a thousand pages, they're torn and on the floor
headlights hammer the windows, we're locked behind these doors
and we are never leaving, this place is part of us
and all these scenes repeating are cold to the touch
my hands seem to deceive me
when I'm nervous or when I'm healthy.
the scenery's all drawn.
they hang here from the walls dear,
painting pictures, bleeding colors,
blanket the windows.
sometimes it gets so hard to breathe.
your eyes see right through me.
these fights with your arms left beside.
one thing and one more says goodnight.
you've got the map come get to me.
these knuckles break before they bleed.
tear out these veins that own my heart.
this skin that wears your lasting marks.
i've built these walls come get to me, come get to me.
is this your lesson, a slight discretion,
the lines that keep you, the lines that sweep you.
lock the doors from the inside.
your face is so contagious, it wears announcements,
it leaves me breathless, i won't forget this. I won't forget.
sometimes it gets so hard to breathe.
your eyes see right through me.
let the walls have their say.
let the walls have their say.
let the walls have their say.
Have their say.
there's no conversation, words without remorse
and this television drowns the only source
wake from these dreams of you in my arms
to the staircase where you hold my heart
this place, these walls mean everything to me.