The past does creep...

[joleta]

... it's been so long, so so long. I have not forgotten. Actually mentioned you to a friend of mine less than a month ago. It's odd how someone from so long ago just comes out of nowhere. I remember a friend, whom I loved to talk to... who I held intelligent, often lengthy conversations about politics, religion, and spanish teachers with (haha). I also remember an intensely insecure person who sometimes sucked the life out of me. At times, I couldn't breathe; I surely couldn't exist on my own when he was around. So he stopped being around. He... you. And now I speak in vague tongues, as I did way back when. Things are funny that way. I thought that artsy, indirect, vague, emotional part of me had died a long time ago. So in response to finding your voice, I think of this:

There is this thing that's like fucking except you don't fuck
Back in the day it just went without saying at all
All the world's history gradually dying of shock
There is thing that's like talking except you don't talk
You sing
You sing

Sing for the bartender sing for the janitor sing
Sing for the cameras sing for the animals sing
Sing for the children shooting the children sing
Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn't sing
Just sing

There is thing keeping everyone's lungs and lips locked
It is called fear and it's seeing a great renaissance
After the show you can not sing wherever you want
But for now lets just pretend that we're gonna get bombed
So sing

Sing cause its obvious sing for the astronauts sing
Sing for the president sing for the terrorists sing
Sing for the soccer team sing for the janjaweed sing
Sing for the kid with the phone who refuses to sing
Just sing

Life is no cabaret
We don't care what you say
We're inviting you anyway
You motherfuckers you'll sing someday...
You motherfuckers you'll sing someday...