change the channel
Nicked from rhiannonhero.
When you see this, post your favorite poem.
When the night shows
The signals grow on radios
All the strange things
They come and go, as early warnings
Stranded starfish have no place to hide
Still waiting for the swollen easter tide
There's no point in direction
We cannot even choose a side.
I took the old track
The hollow shoulder, across the waters
On the tall cliffs
They were getting older, sons and daughters
The jaded underworld was riding high
Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky
And as the nail sunk in the cloud
The rain was warm and soaked the crowd.
Lord, here comes the flood
Well say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent
In any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.
When the flood calls,
You have no home, you have no walls
In the thunder crash
You're a thousand minds, within a flash
Don't be afraid to cry at what you see
The actors gone, there's only you and me
And if we break before the dawn
They'll use up what we used to be.
Lord, here comes the flood
Well say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again, the seas are silent
In any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.
--- Peter Gabriel, Here Comes The Flood.
It's too fucking hot to write, to even have the laptop on. And if I go over my research and theory notes, it'll all be interrupted by the play tonight. So there's no point and I'm rather disgruntled at this waste of the last day of my twenty-eighth year. I've always tried to do something creative or at least productive.
Maybe I'll go wash my hair.
When you see this, post your favorite poem.
When the night shows
The signals grow on radios
All the strange things
They come and go, as early warnings
Stranded starfish have no place to hide
Still waiting for the swollen easter tide
There's no point in direction
We cannot even choose a side.
I took the old track
The hollow shoulder, across the waters
On the tall cliffs
They were getting older, sons and daughters
The jaded underworld was riding high
Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky
And as the nail sunk in the cloud
The rain was warm and soaked the crowd.
Lord, here comes the flood
Well say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent
In any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.
When the flood calls,
You have no home, you have no walls
In the thunder crash
You're a thousand minds, within a flash
Don't be afraid to cry at what you see
The actors gone, there's only you and me
And if we break before the dawn
They'll use up what we used to be.
Lord, here comes the flood
Well say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again, the seas are silent
In any still alive
It'll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.
--- Peter Gabriel, Here Comes The Flood.
It's too fucking hot to write, to even have the laptop on. And if I go over my research and theory notes, it'll all be interrupted by the play tonight. So there's no point and I'm rather disgruntled at this waste of the last day of my twenty-eighth year. I've always tried to do something creative or at least productive.
Maybe I'll go wash my hair.