(no subject)
bleh, i got a ticket. speeding ticket that is. 48 in a 35 woo.
i lose my car for a month, which isn't so bad i guess, but damn will it be inconvenient.
uuuum
everyone is deathly sick in my house right now, except for me because i am super. however, this means i have to stay home today and help my dad get ready for the family thing we're having here tomorrow. hopefully i can leave tonight. and and and go to justin's andnddddddndd see katt.
i just got back from the studio for the third saturday in a row, damn. we're gonna have 9 songs on the demo now though. i guess it's not even a demo anymore, just a short album.
greenery(?) (title is still tentative)
There are the brick reddened gardens
And the tiptoeing vines, so eager to mingle
They’ll knead at the stone
Until their budding tips are wrought into the walls,
Permanent as the mortar they gnaw
They’ll etch away at the surface until it
Crumbles down
Falling on the backs of children who will grow old here
Their lives watched by these leaves
Until they topple and return to earth,
Bony seeds bearing new vine babies
The aging bones will bleach,
And lie in overgrown plots
Slow progress of a crawling dance
Of seed and stem
Ending after the probing tendrils have twisted
And slid past
To their meeting atop the childhood ruins
Anchoring themselves in a knotted clasp
i lose my car for a month, which isn't so bad i guess, but damn will it be inconvenient.
uuuum
everyone is deathly sick in my house right now, except for me because i am super. however, this means i have to stay home today and help my dad get ready for the family thing we're having here tomorrow. hopefully i can leave tonight. and and and go to justin's andnddddddndd see katt.
i just got back from the studio for the third saturday in a row, damn. we're gonna have 9 songs on the demo now though. i guess it's not even a demo anymore, just a short album.
greenery(?) (title is still tentative)
There are the brick reddened gardens
And the tiptoeing vines, so eager to mingle
They’ll knead at the stone
Until their budding tips are wrought into the walls,
Permanent as the mortar they gnaw
They’ll etch away at the surface until it
Crumbles down
Falling on the backs of children who will grow old here
Their lives watched by these leaves
Until they topple and return to earth,
Bony seeds bearing new vine babies
The aging bones will bleach,
And lie in overgrown plots
Slow progress of a crawling dance
Of seed and stem
Ending after the probing tendrils have twisted
And slid past
To their meeting atop the childhood ruins
Anchoring themselves in a knotted clasp