this isn't important ; )
I listend to alot of bright eyes. and its 230 am. i'm tired. i wrote something... i'm not sure what it is, its almost of poem.. or a song.. or a verse... its... something. all i know is thats what right now is.
so i'm going to post it.... that way i won't forget right now.. because thats what this is. its right now.
and to quote a good friend.... (dan i thouhgt you said thanks to 3 am once. but you didn't) "thanks 3 am."
A deafening silence consumed my world last night
It was after all that music and a conversation
That I could touch
And it felt like it did once
When friends were friends and voices were not separated
By damned wires in the sky
Days we long for, Still live somewhere underneath
Covered by rocks and old debris
If only we had a shovel sharp enough to cut,
Right through that hurt, it would just let that love float up
And it would meet us right here where we used to be
Like a message lost long ago
We vanished, without a trace
Leaving me with a hole cut deep and I’m scarred
With a picture of your face
From each other’s eyes we will only be an outline of what we were
And in a painting once, I tried to capture that
Tried to store it where it wasn’t sore
And it’s on that canvas that I met the truth
So I grabbed my brush and covered it with black
And I still call that painting you
And I don’t frame it now,
Because I don’t think it’s absolute.
so i'm going to post it.... that way i won't forget right now.. because thats what this is. its right now.
and to quote a good friend.... (dan i thouhgt you said thanks to 3 am once. but you didn't) "thanks 3 am."
A deafening silence consumed my world last night
It was after all that music and a conversation
That I could touch
And it felt like it did once
When friends were friends and voices were not separated
By damned wires in the sky
Days we long for, Still live somewhere underneath
Covered by rocks and old debris
If only we had a shovel sharp enough to cut,
Right through that hurt, it would just let that love float up
And it would meet us right here where we used to be
Like a message lost long ago
We vanished, without a trace
Leaving me with a hole cut deep and I’m scarred
With a picture of your face
From each other’s eyes we will only be an outline of what we were
And in a painting once, I tried to capture that
Tried to store it where it wasn’t sore
And it’s on that canvas that I met the truth
So I grabbed my brush and covered it with black
And I still call that painting you
And I don’t frame it now,
Because I don’t think it’s absolute.