the world changed tonight so nothing else matters
Put your pen to the page.
Change the world.
We walked in shadow and stepped into the dark. We danced a secret two-step unseen. The clatter of voices, mumbles, noises. I swerve around witness signs. I try to remember what it is that is mine.
Allow me to transport you to this world of ours. Where we remember the songs that the girls used to dance to. It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you. How it feels to be alone. Those days, oh those sweet days, kept on your own.
Have a night out, drink the world away. Fall in love and back again. Find the cure for your sins at the bottom of a bottle of gin.
Youth is something I have long since left behind. It's a treasure I attempt to find in jewelled visions and lost signs.
Here I stand now and look around me - what do you see? My past, perhaps, littered with stars and traps and lies; lies always. Try to see through these eyes. I will never escape what I may become.
Fallen. Aren't we all? Terrorised by indecision and the castrated chimes of churches we fail to attend. Upon the misty streets we walk. We fend for ourselves in these times.
The generation after X. Y? Z? And then comes the dead. We are on the brink of an epiphany. Sink or swim? Fight or flight? Drink everything in sight.
So what? So we die? So we face the fact that we mean nothing more than the trees cut down in spring? Full bloom, forgotten soon. Or we breathe, and take a moment to see the charms we each hold in our palms. Trust this. Or blame it all on fate, if you must.
And what about me? Who knows. Textbook genius ain't all it cracked up to be. Tie everything up in standards and rates, though I might hate you for your small victories, so green, so precious and green.
You are not alone, you know. I recall those nights, and I could show you the colours of my bruises on a weekday, of the scratches covered that way, and fear. Fear. Fear most of all.
But I hear a song and my feet tap-tap-tap along these beaten streets. The hookers sigh, the dealers cry out their sweetened, sweated cat-calls and you may ask why. Why do we persist? Why must we resist the end that follows us like a shadow? Crawling out of that hell-hole of those caves somewhere inside.
A slice of light, life, and a chance.
Put a pen to a page.
And change your mind.
Change the world.
We walked in shadow and stepped into the dark. We danced a secret two-step unseen. The clatter of voices, mumbles, noises. I swerve around witness signs. I try to remember what it is that is mine.
Allow me to transport you to this world of ours. Where we remember the songs that the girls used to dance to. It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you. How it feels to be alone. Those days, oh those sweet days, kept on your own.
Have a night out, drink the world away. Fall in love and back again. Find the cure for your sins at the bottom of a bottle of gin.
Youth is something I have long since left behind. It's a treasure I attempt to find in jewelled visions and lost signs.
Here I stand now and look around me - what do you see? My past, perhaps, littered with stars and traps and lies; lies always. Try to see through these eyes. I will never escape what I may become.
Fallen. Aren't we all? Terrorised by indecision and the castrated chimes of churches we fail to attend. Upon the misty streets we walk. We fend for ourselves in these times.
The generation after X. Y? Z? And then comes the dead. We are on the brink of an epiphany. Sink or swim? Fight or flight? Drink everything in sight.
So what? So we die? So we face the fact that we mean nothing more than the trees cut down in spring? Full bloom, forgotten soon. Or we breathe, and take a moment to see the charms we each hold in our palms. Trust this. Or blame it all on fate, if you must.
And what about me? Who knows. Textbook genius ain't all it cracked up to be. Tie everything up in standards and rates, though I might hate you for your small victories, so green, so precious and green.
You are not alone, you know. I recall those nights, and I could show you the colours of my bruises on a weekday, of the scratches covered that way, and fear. Fear. Fear most of all.
But I hear a song and my feet tap-tap-tap along these beaten streets. The hookers sigh, the dealers cry out their sweetened, sweated cat-calls and you may ask why. Why do we persist? Why must we resist the end that follows us like a shadow? Crawling out of that hell-hole of those caves somewhere inside.
A slice of light, life, and a chance.
Put a pen to a page.
And change your mind.