Hahahaha... I've been writing for a good few years now, and ignoring the somewhat shameful fact that nothing has ever really 'come of it', it's been a fun & useful way of expressing myself, the various good and bad times I've had. This particular song, I think I wrote when I was about 17, and listening to a lot of poppy emo. I really like it still because it reminds of being that age, and falling for someone for the first time, but at the same time, the current me is getting massive laughs from reading it.
I
am
pretty sure that I
am
all you could ask for
You
are
so pretty I'm sure we'd be good.
It's not
just
something physical. You
must
be some kind of miracle
I've
got
this feeling it feels how it would
If I were in love and if I'd found
The girl of my dreams so stick around.
When I wake up in the morning
I want you there.
I never thought I'd get what I want
But what I need I might have just got.
Cos I assure you, it's a sure thing
I'll always care.
As long as you'd like me to,
I will have eyes only for you.
No one I know
Can compare.
Only while you want me to,
I will do anything for you
Just to show
I'll always care
As long as you'd love me to...
And even
If
We are only ever friends, hear
This
How I feel now may never end
This
Is
A chance I'll take cos I know I should,
This must feel like it would
If I were in love and if I'd found
The girl of my dreams so stick around.
When I wake up in the morning
I want you there.
I never thought I'd get what I want
But what I need I might have just got.
Cos I assure you, it's a sure thing
I'll always care.
Fail.
Thursday, 9 July 2009
It's far from a secret I like thrash/death, so here's my shot at just writing gory & cheesy as fuck metal.
Nearly dead, severed leg, blood is everywhere
Artery, crimson spray, misting in the air
All alone, far from home, I don't want to die
Gone insane from the pain, one thing left to try...
Turning white, seeing the light
Life just ebbing away.
Plunging a knife into my own insides
Making an intestinal tourniquet.
Handful after handful of my own guts
Come glistening into view
No other option, if I'm to survive
Then this is what I have to do
Stretch my bodies organs
Wrap them round the wound
Already the flies are feasting on me
The stench of my innards makes me want to puke
I'm festering, convulsing, a vile corpse to be.
Paler than bone, dying alone
Penance for my panicked state.
Bloodless by my own hand, I cut myself in half
To tie off my intestinal
(The pain's infinitesimal)
(Rotting body festival)
Flesh tourniquet
Nearly dead, severed leg, blood is everywhere
Artery, crimson spray, misting in the air
All alone, far from home, I don't want to die
Gone insane from the pain, one thing left to try...
Turning white, seeing the light
Life just ebbing away.
Plunging a knife into my own insides
Making an intestinal tourniquet.
Handful after handful of my own guts
Come glistening into view
No other option, if I'm to survive
Then this is what I have to do
Stretch my bodies organs
Wrap them round the wound
Already the flies are feasting on me
The stench of my innards makes me want to puke
I'm festering, convulsing, a vile corpse to be.
Paler than bone, dying alone
Penance for my panicked state.
Bloodless by my own hand, I cut myself in half
To tie off my intestinal
(The pain's infinitesimal)
(Rotting body festival)
Flesh tourniquet
Exhale this history.
Then listen for the fanfare of a coming age.
The sound of tomorrow, coming home today.
The trumpets playing.
The crowds are gathered to celebrate.
And none of it's good enough.
Erase this history.
Wipe out the work and bury the evidence.
Burn all these headlines.
The flashbulbs like mushroom clouds.
Inhale, breathe deeply.
Choke.
Choke.
I was a bit of a mess when I wrote this, but upon reflection its either about how the superficiality of the mass media would trivialise even the end of the world, or about how a relationship could completely fall apart, but material things can remain and remind and hurt. I don't honestly know.
Then listen for the fanfare of a coming age.
The sound of tomorrow, coming home today.
The trumpets playing.
The crowds are gathered to celebrate.
And none of it's good enough.
Erase this history.
Wipe out the work and bury the evidence.
Burn all these headlines.
The flashbulbs like mushroom clouds.
Inhale, breathe deeply.
Choke.
Choke.
I was a bit of a mess when I wrote this, but upon reflection its either about how the superficiality of the mass media would trivialise even the end of the world, or about how a relationship could completely fall apart, but material things can remain and remind and hurt. I don't honestly know.
Sunday, 5 July 2009
You were the pinnacle.
You were the peak.
You were the strongest, making it through the weeks.
They are the poorest, despite their wealth.
They are the sickest, despite their health.
They are the coldest, despite their houses and their heat.
What a fucking travesty,
A state sponsored tragedy.
You may be cold and gone,
But you're not the one who's dead to me.
Passers by, living up to their name.
Every single one should feel ashamed.
They never broke her, though, even at the end,
When the rules of the system just refused to bend.
It's a disgrace how easily they refuse.
When have they ever had to choose
Between risking life and facing death
Or losing the little they have left?
I hope your flowers grow from the ground you're in now.
And I hope you can forgive us all, some way and some how.
And I hope they can't fucking sleep at night.
Because people like you are finally on their mind.
http://www.b3ta.com/questions/tramps/post472804
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/tayside_and_central/7861600.stm
You were the peak.
You were the strongest, making it through the weeks.
They are the poorest, despite their wealth.
They are the sickest, despite their health.
They are the coldest, despite their houses and their heat.
What a fucking travesty,
A state sponsored tragedy.
You may be cold and gone,
But you're not the one who's dead to me.
Passers by, living up to their name.
Every single one should feel ashamed.
They never broke her, though, even at the end,
When the rules of the system just refused to bend.
It's a disgrace how easily they refuse.
When have they ever had to choose
Between risking life and facing death
Or losing the little they have left?
I hope your flowers grow from the ground you're in now.
And I hope you can forgive us all, some way and some how.
And I hope they can't fucking sleep at night.
Because people like you are finally on their mind.
http://www.b3ta.com/questions/tramps/post472804
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/tayside_and_central/7861600.stm
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