January 23rd, 2007

qotsa

Lyrics for a song and a poem

I'm writing a song right now. These are the lyrics I have in mind.

History passed away
with children left behind
By broken marriages
and lies their parents told them

I don’t want to stay
where I can’t hide
Lie in carriages
pulled by horses dead to us

I want to fly
so high
into the bright red sky
and I
can feel my mind splitting in two
I want to fly
Away
From all the misery and all the pain
To be sane
and away from what tore me in two

Children born today
don’t know the pain I’m used to
Suffer well they say,
the pain goes through you

Children born today
don’t know the pain I’m used to
Suffer well they say,
the pain goes through you

I don’t want to stay
where I can’t hide
Lie in carriages
pulled by horses dead to us

I want to fly
so high
into the bright red sky
and I
can feel my mind splitting in two
I want to fly
Away
From all the misery and all the pain
To be sane
and away from what tore me in two







Also, I shall gift you with a poem from a looooong time ago. Nine Months of Hell:

On my back in the street with the
feet of giants resting
squarely on my chest.
This all too familiar position:
vulnerable,
suffocating,
both praying for and dreading oncoming traffic;
anything to end the torture,
but its continuation is all I really want.

On my back, used and beaten.
Unable to stand.
I see you standing there,
shielding your eyes from this
atrocity of mangled flesh,
the exhibition of the dying.
They are your feet holding me down,
even from far away.
Because of this, I know you don't want to help anyway.


I don't care anymore.
Do what you will,
because I want you to.
And here it is, the common thread
that always creeps into my consciousness.
The ever present masochistic longing
for pleasure in my own destruction.

Why does my self destructive longing
manifest itself in someone so perfect as you?
But now I remember.
You are gone,
and I am here.
Do I want to be?
I lapse.

You used to joke about how you tortured me,
was it denial?
Where you ignoring and hiding the truth
by disguising it in jest?
But that is over now;
speculation will get me nowhere.
You will never see this.