i hate my feet. i'm cutting them off.
If you stare long enough at the back in my eyes you'll understand completely
If I stood long enough would the moment stop in time, just maybe
It would be long enough for my heart to catch up to speed, don't leave me
With a full right fist and an empty ring to be retaken
Can you feel me?
Can you feel this?
I can feel you
But it takes two to exist.
It's the poems in the morning and the laughter at noon that makes me smile sedately
With an innocent pride that begs a lot from the size of our chemistry
But if the scales can decide just how our souls collide I'll concede, undeniably
That I'm less than my parts, but more than your heart's desire annotated
Can you feel me?
Can you feel this?
I can feel you
But it takes two to exist.
It's in the walls and the floors and the widows of swords that we're alone, innately
And like the fires in June blaze, you walk in a room and it's gone, so quickly
You make the crowd dissintegrate and let the rest dissipate into space, where I meet you
And in the calm afternoon there's a magnificent view of the moon, and our astronomy
Can you feel me?
Can you feel this?
I can feel you
But it takes two to exist.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone
I thought nothing came cheap but my mind can trick my soul
I can't get any sleep, they've stopped selling it again
And if you won't speak then you might never be what I thought you were then.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone
It's hard to open my heart when the doors let in the cold
Any light could lead the way when I'm caught out in the storm
But if you won't speak then you might never be what I thought could make me warm.
And when you'd sing out for me
I'd scream out for you
I'd reach out for you
Even when you're dying.
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone
I thought I found a treasure, like a daisy in the snow
Time's the cure for all good things we'll come back and find it gone
And if you don't speak then you might never be what I thought could make me whole.
And when you'd sing out for me
I'd scream out for you
I'd reach out for you
Even when you're dying
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
And when you'd sing out for me
I'd scream out for you
I'd reach out for you
Even when you're dying
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone.
I thought love was blind but I can see your face in gold.
And maybe through time, I'll get closer to her than her jugular
And maybe through time, I'll survive, but until then
Who'll sing out for me
Who'll scream out for you
Who'll reach out for you
Even when you're dying
Who'll sing out for me
Who'll scream out for you
Who'll reach out for you
Even when you're dying
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
Yeah I'd cut my arms off
Yeah I'd burn my heart out
Yeah I'd starve my soul out
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
if you think you know me well enough to call me lizzy, think again. with the exception of juanathan and richard, no one who knows me well enough to call me liz or lizzy actually does, because anyone who knows me well enough to give me any nickname knows that 1)i HATE HATE HATE being called liz or lizzy because 2) there is no z in my name, therefore calling me liz or lizzy MAKES NO SENSE!
tammi (at work) calls me lizzy.
there's an ant on the wall. an eskimo ant.
inside joke.
so. um. i dunno. where is area code 580? i got a text message from a 580 area code, and i don't know where/who that is.
i need to do el laundryo tomorrow. and i'm supposed to kick it with alex. that'll be cool. alex rocks. and ...
i should go to bed.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
You are Charles VI of France, also known as Charles the Mad or Charles the Well-Beloved!
A fine, amiable and dreamy young man, skilled in horsemanship and archery, you were also from a long line of dribbling madmen. King at 12 and quickly married to your sweetheart, Bavarian Princess Isabeau, you enjoyed many happy months together before either of you could speak anything of the other's language. However, after illness you became a tad unstable. When a raving lunatic ran up to your entourage spouting an incoherent prophecy of doom, you were unsettled enough to slaughter four of your best men when a page dropped a lance. Your hair and nails fell out. At a royal masquerade, you and your courtiers dressed as wild men, ending in tragedy when four of them accidentally caught fire and burned to death. You were saved by the timely intervention of the Duchess of Berry's underskirts.
This brought on another bout of sickness, which surgeons countered by drilling holes in your skull. The following months saw you suffer an exorcism, beg your friends to kill you, go into hyperactive fits of gaiety, run through your rooms to the point of exhaustion, hide from imaginary assassins, claim your name was Georges, deny that you were King and fail to recognise your family. You smashed furniture and wet yourself at regular intervals. Passing briefly into erratic genius, you believed yourself to be made of glass and demanded iron rods in your attire to prevent you breaking.
In 1405 you stopped bathing, shaving or changing your clothes. This went on until several men were hired to blacken their faces, hide, jump out and shout "boo!", upon which you resumed basic hygiene. Despite this, your wife continued sleeping with you until 1407, when she hired a young beauty, Odette de Champdivers, to take her place. Isabeau then consoled herself, as it were, with your brother. Her lovers followed thick and fast while you became a pawn of your court, until you had her latest beau strangled and drowned.
A severe fever was fended off with oranges and pomegranates in vast quantities, but you succumbed again in 1422 and died. Your disease was most likely hereditary. Unfortunately, you had anywhere up to eleven children, who variously went on to develop capriciousness, great cruelty, insecurity, paranoia, revulsion towards food and, in one case, a phobia of bridges.
If I stood long enough would the moment stop in time, just maybe
It would be long enough for my heart to catch up to speed, don't leave me
With a full right fist and an empty ring to be retaken
Can you feel me?
Can you feel this?
I can feel you
But it takes two to exist.
It's the poems in the morning and the laughter at noon that makes me smile sedately
With an innocent pride that begs a lot from the size of our chemistry
But if the scales can decide just how our souls collide I'll concede, undeniably
That I'm less than my parts, but more than your heart's desire annotated
Can you feel me?
Can you feel this?
I can feel you
But it takes two to exist.
It's in the walls and the floors and the widows of swords that we're alone, innately
And like the fires in June blaze, you walk in a room and it's gone, so quickly
You make the crowd dissintegrate and let the rest dissipate into space, where I meet you
And in the calm afternoon there's a magnificent view of the moon, and our astronomy
Can you feel me?
Can you feel this?
I can feel you
But it takes two to exist.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone
I thought nothing came cheap but my mind can trick my soul
I can't get any sleep, they've stopped selling it again
And if you won't speak then you might never be what I thought you were then.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone
It's hard to open my heart when the doors let in the cold
Any light could lead the way when I'm caught out in the storm
But if you won't speak then you might never be what I thought could make me warm.
And when you'd sing out for me
I'd scream out for you
I'd reach out for you
Even when you're dying.
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone
I thought I found a treasure, like a daisy in the snow
Time's the cure for all good things we'll come back and find it gone
And if you don't speak then you might never be what I thought could make me whole.
And when you'd sing out for me
I'd scream out for you
I'd reach out for you
Even when you're dying
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
And when you'd sing out for me
I'd scream out for you
I'd reach out for you
Even when you're dying
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
I thought beauty was skin deep but you've touched me to the bone.
I thought love was blind but I can see your face in gold.
And maybe through time, I'll get closer to her than her jugular
And maybe through time, I'll survive, but until then
Who'll sing out for me
Who'll scream out for you
Who'll reach out for you
Even when you're dying
Who'll sing out for me
Who'll scream out for you
Who'll reach out for you
Even when you're dying
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
But I'd cut off my hand before I reach for you again.
Yeah I'd cut my arms off
Yeah I'd burn my heart out
Yeah I'd starve my soul out
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
if you think you know me well enough to call me lizzy, think again. with the exception of juanathan and richard, no one who knows me well enough to call me liz or lizzy actually does, because anyone who knows me well enough to give me any nickname knows that 1)i HATE HATE HATE being called liz or lizzy because 2) there is no z in my name, therefore calling me liz or lizzy MAKES NO SENSE!
tammi (at work) calls me lizzy.
there's an ant on the wall. an eskimo ant.
inside joke.
so. um. i dunno. where is area code 580? i got a text message from a 580 area code, and i don't know where/who that is.
i need to do el laundryo tomorrow. and i'm supposed to kick it with alex. that'll be cool. alex rocks. and ...
i should go to bed.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
You are Charles VI of France, also known as Charles the Mad or Charles the Well-Beloved!
A fine, amiable and dreamy young man, skilled in horsemanship and archery, you were also from a long line of dribbling madmen. King at 12 and quickly married to your sweetheart, Bavarian Princess Isabeau, you enjoyed many happy months together before either of you could speak anything of the other's language. However, after illness you became a tad unstable. When a raving lunatic ran up to your entourage spouting an incoherent prophecy of doom, you were unsettled enough to slaughter four of your best men when a page dropped a lance. Your hair and nails fell out. At a royal masquerade, you and your courtiers dressed as wild men, ending in tragedy when four of them accidentally caught fire and burned to death. You were saved by the timely intervention of the Duchess of Berry's underskirts.
This brought on another bout of sickness, which surgeons countered by drilling holes in your skull. The following months saw you suffer an exorcism, beg your friends to kill you, go into hyperactive fits of gaiety, run through your rooms to the point of exhaustion, hide from imaginary assassins, claim your name was Georges, deny that you were King and fail to recognise your family. You smashed furniture and wet yourself at regular intervals. Passing briefly into erratic genius, you believed yourself to be made of glass and demanded iron rods in your attire to prevent you breaking.
In 1405 you stopped bathing, shaving or changing your clothes. This went on until several men were hired to blacken their faces, hide, jump out and shout "boo!", upon which you resumed basic hygiene. Despite this, your wife continued sleeping with you until 1407, when she hired a young beauty, Odette de Champdivers, to take her place. Isabeau then consoled herself, as it were, with your brother. Her lovers followed thick and fast while you became a pawn of your court, until you had her latest beau strangled and drowned.
A severe fever was fended off with oranges and pomegranates in vast quantities, but you succumbed again in 1422 and died. Your disease was most likely hereditary. Unfortunately, you had anywhere up to eleven children, who variously went on to develop capriciousness, great cruelty, insecurity, paranoia, revulsion towards food and, in one case, a phobia of bridges.