Knowing the path, and walking the path.
I can't seem to help it. I'm down here, away from everything under the express orders to come back with a definitive road map for happiness. But that's a hard term to define, especially from this limited perspective- it's like asking someone what kind of condiments they want on their hot dog after a month of hunger. I just want to get home.
But that shall not happen without something to show for it. So, here I am, in my living room, surrounded with instruments. Music, I see now, is my only passion.
I drew a picture for my little brother's homework by request on "Angels fighting Demons" absentmindedly I ended up drawing a guitar hero-esque image of a band fighting a looming black phantasm, rising from a deep crevice. At the bottom I couldn't help but write:
ONLY MUSIC CAN SAVE US NOW
It is hard to sum it up any other way. My friends here all seem to be in a hanging orbit, creative talents at the ready. They're hungry, ready to work on something, anything that could get them out of this event horizon.
And I, driven by supernatural motivation, am happy to whip them into shape. We work now, deep into the night. Small wonder they've given me the role of manager- I've got the vision to see which paths are the best ones to take in this course, properly assess our abilities. I remain absolutely positive, even if my recent fall from confidence has left me with a limp.
Time is passing too fast at this latitude, like water between my fingers.
Already my parents have sat me down and asked for a battle plan- they are convinced, based on their visit, that Stacie has been planning this for a long time and had used my moment of weakness to make her move and cut me out of her life. They say all of my friends up there have abandoned me, that no one wants me back, and that I should settle in here and forget about it, get a job, get a car.
I'm smart enough to see that they're just putting themselves in the equation- their "separation" was only supposed to be temporary and instead it turned into an arms race of "who has more" and now they're finally agreeing to finalizing what they had started since I was in high school. My dad speaks more towards the mark than my mom- he's been spurned by her, and yet he still is hopelessly in love. I can see how badly it still hurts him, how much he still tries to connect with her, and how she's grown to just deflect it, determined to be on her own.
I know that this not the same thing, so their words I carry with a grain of salt. They're thinking too much in the short term, and with all of the wrong information, even if their intentions are good, their being sure that she's no longer worth it is just as pointless as saying that I'd be happy here in San Diego.
No sir, Portland is where I've laid my roots, Portland is where I'll stay.
She and I, we've taken our cards from the dealer, and here we sit. Soon, we'll show our hands, but not before the wagers are made.
I'm going all in.
Now every gambler knows that the secret to survivin
Is knowin what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
cause every hands a winner and every hands a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep...
But that shall not happen without something to show for it. So, here I am, in my living room, surrounded with instruments. Music, I see now, is my only passion.
I drew a picture for my little brother's homework by request on "Angels fighting Demons" absentmindedly I ended up drawing a guitar hero-esque image of a band fighting a looming black phantasm, rising from a deep crevice. At the bottom I couldn't help but write:
ONLY MUSIC CAN SAVE US NOW
It is hard to sum it up any other way. My friends here all seem to be in a hanging orbit, creative talents at the ready. They're hungry, ready to work on something, anything that could get them out of this event horizon.
And I, driven by supernatural motivation, am happy to whip them into shape. We work now, deep into the night. Small wonder they've given me the role of manager- I've got the vision to see which paths are the best ones to take in this course, properly assess our abilities. I remain absolutely positive, even if my recent fall from confidence has left me with a limp.
Time is passing too fast at this latitude, like water between my fingers.
Already my parents have sat me down and asked for a battle plan- they are convinced, based on their visit, that Stacie has been planning this for a long time and had used my moment of weakness to make her move and cut me out of her life. They say all of my friends up there have abandoned me, that no one wants me back, and that I should settle in here and forget about it, get a job, get a car.
I'm smart enough to see that they're just putting themselves in the equation- their "separation" was only supposed to be temporary and instead it turned into an arms race of "who has more" and now they're finally agreeing to finalizing what they had started since I was in high school. My dad speaks more towards the mark than my mom- he's been spurned by her, and yet he still is hopelessly in love. I can see how badly it still hurts him, how much he still tries to connect with her, and how she's grown to just deflect it, determined to be on her own.
I know that this not the same thing, so their words I carry with a grain of salt. They're thinking too much in the short term, and with all of the wrong information, even if their intentions are good, their being sure that she's no longer worth it is just as pointless as saying that I'd be happy here in San Diego.
No sir, Portland is where I've laid my roots, Portland is where I'll stay.
She and I, we've taken our cards from the dealer, and here we sit. Soon, we'll show our hands, but not before the wagers are made.
I'm going all in.
Now every gambler knows that the secret to survivin
Is knowin what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
cause every hands a winner and every hands a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep...