Idea of music video shot in courtroom. A bad one. The lyrics are about a ghost. Have the singer running around an abandoned shipyard looking for something that does not exist. Like shutter island. Write away those unblessed spirits because they will come back haunting given the chance. (always been about second verses. well they still don't make sense to me, choir boy). but these words are mean I'd never want them to be read without a preface. I woke up after minimal sleep with an old song stuck in myhead and then I sat thinking about the content of it. Jesus. Such blind faith. It operates so strongly over the globe because of words pounded into heads when young. How does it work for them? Does it give them that extra edge in the competition? Or is it a mind game?
Tell me your secrets, without shame and confess to me everything you've done that you've regretted. Perverted scenes of ultimate despair in the living room.
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Bad attitude like a poison
spreading over top of water
in rainbow colors
penzoil
something curled up black dying
but it will be okay tomorrow
it has to
....
headache and mind ache
everything ached
sounds, lovely ones on a number day, pulverized my ears
sunlight hurt my eyes
I feel the cataracts forming
as I broke y et another pair of sunglasses
two hours of work down the drain
what am I working for? pride?
pride is stupid, naive.
hide yourself in internet ambiguities
finding surplus to the day-long cook-outs
the night does not bring in cool air
we are sweating and eating
simultaneous with our calorie intake
my diet is awful
eating leftovers days beyond
extinction
it's actually not as bad as it seems
but a fucking kitchen would be nice
considering the changing weather
and the expense of living
my god
the room 100 degrees
20 degree cycles
set it to 80
and get a new haircut
looking like a dried up apricot of a person
we play on the bill in between myriad cover bands
only cover bands play places like this
dirty bar
wash out your car
become successful undresser
band meeting about haircuts
we need to kill the extras
the extra chefs
I played metal drums and got a solid response
I sweat through it all
in advanced syncopation
water through me
like filtering out gold coins from a river wash
the best place to become a fossil
how many years old does a skeleton have to be?
to be an archeological find
I was low energy.
Expectations are resentments waiting to happen.
I bit the bullet.
Talked on the phone.
Was made guilty.
Turned into a shitbag in front of everyones eyes.
felt like radiohead and the great gatsby maybe some spelling fixes for other shitty writing but my talents are not talents if never used or addressed there is nothing to it but my individual thought, but how does he have the time they ask and I have no idea how to afford lessons and what the fuck fuck fuck... cry on the couch listen to the sounds of silence of the boring and quiet repetition. we are such fucking circles!
