"the sun gets passed from tree to tree, silently and back to me"
"His goal in life was to be an echo
The type of sound that floats around and then back down
Like a feather"
so i just finished watching hotel rwanda, an excellent film that brought me to tears on several occasions...
it makes me hate the iraq war even more, we speak of liberation and shit, fucking rwanda was pure genocide, but we did NOTHING... why? why if we are all fucking liberators of the world, didn't we help those thousands upon thousands of people... i'm crying again...
i just have alot of "big ideas" in my head now... so i'll share them
"if you ever see buddha in the road, kill him"
my new favorite quote, you won't find enlightment on the outer road of life, so if you see something outside of yourself kill it. (not many here probably agree with that)
"9 out of 10 times the problems you have with other people are really problems you have with yourself"
how true can that be, really think about it, think about a big problem you had with a friend, and think if its just a problem within yourself.
right now i'm really enjoying wilco's a ghost is born and the shin's chutes too narrow so i'll post some lyrics now
wilco- hell is chrome
When the devil came
He was not red
He was chrome, and he said
Come with me
You must go
So I went
Where everything was clean
So precise and towering
I was welcomed
With open arms
I received so much help in every way
I felt no fear
The air was crisp
Like sunny late winter days
A springtime yawning high in the haze
And I felt like I belonged
Come with me
the shins- pink bullets
I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
oh what a contrast you were
to the brutes in the halls
my timid young fingers held a decent animal.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have been short but the days were long.
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
when our kite lines first crossed
we tied them into knots
and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off.
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
so you understand less as the pages turn
or a movie so crass
and awkardly cast
that even I could be the star.
I don't look back as much as a rule
and all this way before murder was cool
but your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
warm light on a winter day.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have seemed short but the days go slowly by
two loose kites falling from the sky
drawn to the ground and an end to flight.
The type of sound that floats around and then back down
Like a feather"
so i just finished watching hotel rwanda, an excellent film that brought me to tears on several occasions...
it makes me hate the iraq war even more, we speak of liberation and shit, fucking rwanda was pure genocide, but we did NOTHING... why? why if we are all fucking liberators of the world, didn't we help those thousands upon thousands of people... i'm crying again...
i just have alot of "big ideas" in my head now... so i'll share them
"if you ever see buddha in the road, kill him"
my new favorite quote, you won't find enlightment on the outer road of life, so if you see something outside of yourself kill it. (not many here probably agree with that)
"9 out of 10 times the problems you have with other people are really problems you have with yourself"
how true can that be, really think about it, think about a big problem you had with a friend, and think if its just a problem within yourself.
right now i'm really enjoying wilco's a ghost is born and the shin's chutes too narrow so i'll post some lyrics now
wilco- hell is chrome
When the devil came
He was not red
He was chrome, and he said
Come with me
You must go
So I went
Where everything was clean
So precise and towering
I was welcomed
With open arms
I received so much help in every way
I felt no fear
The air was crisp
Like sunny late winter days
A springtime yawning high in the haze
And I felt like I belonged
Come with me
the shins- pink bullets
I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
oh what a contrast you were
to the brutes in the halls
my timid young fingers held a decent animal.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have been short but the days were long.
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
when our kite lines first crossed
we tied them into knots
and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off.
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
so you understand less as the pages turn
or a movie so crass
and awkardly cast
that even I could be the star.
I don't look back as much as a rule
and all this way before murder was cool
but your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
warm light on a winter day.
Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have seemed short but the days go slowly by
two loose kites falling from the sky
drawn to the ground and an end to flight.