Apathy


Don’t tell me how to feel, when I feel like this;
Don’t tell me that you’re happy, when I’m so depressed.
Don’t sit there with your girlfriend, giving her a kiss;
Because I just don’t care, about your life of bliss.


I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy.


So don’t sit there with a smile upon your face.
Don’t dare utter those words:
‘The world is such an amazing place.’
Because I live in the rain and I feel like ****.
The sun never shines down on Apathy.


So I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy.


If you feel the same as me;
Or you live in a town like Apathy.
A town of losers; a town of ****!
Then come with me down to Apathy.


Let’s take it over and change a few things.
Let’s welcome only rockers and eject all the trendies.
Let’s all sit down and smoke a spliff.
Let’s drink tequila and rock a few riffs.


I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town, called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy…


Yeah, I live in a town called Apathy,
And it has become like home to me,
For I never want to live outside Apathy,
Because I only care about, the cool people and me.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Chirp cheep cheep.
Mother blue jay sets down and sings to me.
Singing a tune she's sung since birth.
I realize it's beautiful,
it's a song of the earth.
For the blue jay does not worry,
she comes and she goes.
The next phase of life,
she'll figure it out as she goes.
Maybe the blue jay has something to teach.
Something only mother nature can preach.
Time and tribulations can take care of themselves.
So take your worries,
and set them on the back shelf.
Sing a song,
as the blue jay does.
And sing a tune to yourself,
not for anyone else,
but just because.

The Sansui turntable still works well.
Like memories, round and round,
Needling me. And the more I play them,
The more they itch.
I know the dark side of the moon,
And the way the sun shines.
The dances, whirlwind moves,
That have settled now.
Inside the sleeve are notes and our words.
I will not let the dust jackets do their job.
I set Abbey Road gently on the pad,
Place the needle softly, and hear the familiar scratch.
Standing back, like watching a parade,
I listen.
Here comes the sun on a cloudy day.

now, i know that from reading the title, you may skip over this.
but please, let me explain myself first
contrary to popular belief, country music is not all about
trucks and girls and drinking.
it is about real life.
about heartbreak and passion
learning and failure
new experiences and adventures.
sure, some of these things include trucks and girls and drinking.
but the instruments they use
cause your heart to sing along.
the strum of an acoustic guitar is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.
it is calming
and makes the artist's words fit together
in the most perfect story.
we get to listen to someones life
in the form of a song
that has just the right amount of slowness
mixed with the hillbilly music from the south.
i may not have the ability to live in the country
but the music that comes from there
makes me feel as if i'm sitting in a bar
hearing a guy in a cowboy hat strumming along
and explaining his life to us in a wonderful song.

Goethe, he was an artist.
Schiller, Mozart, Beethoven.
Writers, musicians, painters all.
Even now I hear Chopin's call.
The tunes make my heart sing,
my soul dance.
I'm in a trance
when I hear those sweet melodies.
Like the sound of your voice,
it all makes joy
come rushing back to me.

Won't you stay,
play a little longer?
I may not be as gifted as you,
but I could be your muse,
if you were to choose
me to.

Amazing Grace
how sweet the sound.
Sugar water
for me to drown.
Sugar water,
A blessed sound!

The doctor says,
"This is not good".
But when it's your food
what should you do?
I'd sooner starve
than be without
that heavenly,
That sweet sweet sound.

The angel choirs
all sing aloud-
Their voices together
can move the clouds,
That hang over me
like deaths dark shroud.
They say God
is hard to please,
But all I need
is the sweet release.
That fruit first plucked
from the knowledge tree,
Pressed now into
liquid sweet.
Out of the eater came something to eat.
Out of the strong, something sweet.

Amazing Grace
how sweet the sound.
My pulse falls slow,
And hits the ground.

I've never been good with words
Each thought is from lyrics heard
Losing myself in every piece
Till they all become a part of me
Or am I these things I've never written?
Only ideas that stir from somewhere hidden


Inside my own head, trapped, as my mouth works silently
Trying to speak, violently


I wonder what it's like to be somebody else
How hard is it to think for one's self?
I'm back at this familiar place
Yet nothing ever feels the same
Nothing ever feels the same


Have I just become you?
I've idolized everything you do
Every syllable you sing,
From the sound of your voice to your eyes shining.
My obsession is me
My obsession is me

And I must say,
It feels so good to be so lost.