(no subject)
Sad, sad journey. One of the cd's I got for x-mas was Institute, with the familiar Gavin Rossdale sounding like the lonely venture past your prime is one of no return. The music, honestly, is not too bad. But that's not the point. Mr. Rossdale used to be high on my list of lyricists, which is a big fucking accomplishment indeed, but GODAMN. GODAMN. His lyrics not only don't sound cool and poetic anymore, but they sound desperate and outright stupid. Now I will admit, there is some gold to be found. But who the hell wants to rummage through a pile of shit for a few flakes of gold? Maybe I'll become accustomed to the lyrics. I've learned to never underestimate my ability to sway. Hypocrite? BAH! Dangerously openminded, and possibly my search for someone I can hold in respect has left me fickle and excessively ready for an impressive counter opinion to swing me towards a better human being then I believe myself to be.
What? Nevermind.
Sad. Though if I were to search, and god knows I need to, there's hope in that the music hasn't been completely flattened. You know, I tend to avoid doing such thing, but perhaps I can lay direct blame on Gwen Stafani. I don't know this universe's capacity for coincidence, but damn, it would be a pretty big one if she came along right as Gavin's mind was ready to melt.
Enough. Grrr.
Tit,tit,tit.
I think the lyrics are already starting to grow on me.
HARDCORE. Man this shit is razzle. RAZZLE-DAZZLE.
Uhg. I'll be on the roof.
What? Nevermind.
Sad. Though if I were to search, and god knows I need to, there's hope in that the music hasn't been completely flattened. You know, I tend to avoid doing such thing, but perhaps I can lay direct blame on Gwen Stafani. I don't know this universe's capacity for coincidence, but damn, it would be a pretty big one if she came along right as Gavin's mind was ready to melt.
Enough. Grrr.
Tit,tit,tit.
I think the lyrics are already starting to grow on me.
HARDCORE. Man this shit is razzle. RAZZLE-DAZZLE.
Uhg. I'll be on the roof.