002.
I went to visit Mom and Dad's graves for the holiday. I played them a bit of a requiem with my flute; I hope no one heard me. I also wrote poetry for the holidays. I'll just cite it here because I can.
So full of Christmas cheer
The children are quite gay
Or maybe they're just lying
And have hearts comprised of grey
So happy with their family
A scholar just might say
But what about the child
Who's in the corner? Nay!
The child left in the corner
Watches as he cries
And in that corner he will stay
Until the day that he will die
That poor child was forgotten
On the day of Christmas cheer
And so he was buried
At the sign of brand new year
So don't judge all the children
Of being full of joy and fright
But look at ones in corners
Who may never see the light.
It's just a quick thing. I'll think of a melody and make it into a song some other time. I've really gotten out of practice of writing songs. It's sad. If I ever obtain some inspiration, I'll be sure to write more.
My god, it's late. It's 2200 hours. I have to wake up early tomorrow. Work and such, of course.
I love older music.
So full of Christmas cheer
The children are quite gay
Or maybe they're just lying
And have hearts comprised of grey
So happy with their family
A scholar just might say
But what about the child
Who's in the corner? Nay!
The child left in the corner
Watches as he cries
And in that corner he will stay
Until the day that he will die
That poor child was forgotten
On the day of Christmas cheer
And so he was buried
At the sign of brand new year
So don't judge all the children
Of being full of joy and fright
But look at ones in corners
Who may never see the light.
It's just a quick thing. I'll think of a melody and make it into a song some other time. I've really gotten out of practice of writing songs. It's sad. If I ever obtain some inspiration, I'll be sure to write more.
My god, it's late. It's 2200 hours. I have to wake up early tomorrow. Work and such, of course.
I love older music.