Date written: June 20, 2024
[email protected]
The Cicada
By: Yisselakh
Intro:
Therein lies the rub
You're mistaking the grubs
You can't even tell between the cicada and the wasp
When it's so obvious
So obvious
Chorus:
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Verse 1:
And you still think you know
The stranger of the olive grove
The slacker shut out of the ant's abode
And we always think we are the ants
In these stories told
At least that's what's sold
At least that's what's sold
To us
Chorus:
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Verse 2:
You looked in the pond
And felt rather cross
This ant looks too much like a cicada
You feel it's too late to accept who you are
When you spend most your life lost
Doesn't the right way feel like the wrong path
Is this the fallacy of sunk cost
Bridge:
Unable to accept
Unable to accept
CODA Chorus:
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 3:56 PM UTC
Date written: June 20, 2024
[email protected]
The Cicada
By: Yisselakh
Intro:
Therein lies the rub
You're mistaking the grubs
You can't even tell between the cicada and the wasp
When it's so obvious
So obvious
Chorus:
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Verse 1:
And you still think you know
The stranger of the olive grove
The slacker shut out of the ant's abode
And we always think we are the ants
In these stories told
At least that's what's sold
At least that's what's sold
To us
Chorus:
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Verse 2:
You looked in the pond
And felt rather cross
This ant looks too much like a cicada
You feel it's too late to accept who you are
When you spend most your life lost
Doesn't the right way feel like the wrong path
Is this the fallacy of sunk cost
Bridge:
Unable to accept
Unable to accept
CODA Chorus:
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
The Secret Lives of Sam Lampyris 2
Loosely Inspired By:
FABRE’S
BOOK OF INSECTS
RETOLD FROM ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS’
TRANSLATION of FABRE’S “SOUVENIRS ENTOMOLOGIQUES”
BY MRS. RODOLPH STAWELL
-------
Disclaimer:
Sam Lampyris is peeking through time from eternity. Sam Lampyris has all the time in the world. Sam Lampyris wants to know everything, Sam Lampyris wants to do everything, Sam Lampyris wants to write about everything. Sam Lampyris draws, Sam Lampyris paints, writes, learns, sings, thinks.
Sam Lampyris has many facets and many names, many interests and hobbies.
Sam Lampyris is PinkCircleLyrics,
He is Yisselakh.
He is Meynoher.
And more.
He is impulsive, and follows the ebbs and flow of his stream of consciousness faithfully.
All conscious directly inspired pastiche, homage, references, adaptation, and other derivative content will be noted, and any other similarities beyond this I can only attribute to subconscious influence, collective consciousness or unconscious, or pure coincidence.
Unlike previous works by Sam Lampyris under various pseudonyms, these works are less reactive and more proactive. This is to say that the previous poems and lyrics often sprung directly from my immediate reaction to things I have heard, listened to, read, seen or watched, and are usually much more authentic to my personal philosophy, be it intuitive or learned.
These, however, are more proactive in the sense that I voluntarily seek prompts and inspirations from books and other mediums I look to learn from and write with them in mind. I do this in order to fortify my understanding of them in my own preferred way.
However, during the writing process, my mind always, in some strange way, becomes locked in a track and I, again, seem to be always directed to follow my intuition. Thus, most of the works are non rhyming or rhyming free verses, as instead of writing with strict and consistent meters, it feels like my own being is forced to follow rhythm patterns that "feels right."
Thus, though I can't promise these thoughts are anything under the sun, in fact I can promise the exact opposite:
Ecclesiastes1:10 King James Version
"Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us."
I can promise these works are absolutely authentic to the entire being of Sam Lampyris, no matter what his name is at the time.
