i see your flowers in my dreams, the petals scattering and drifting until they rest on the concrete, i see the little wood boxes in your yard, the daisies and bluebells carefully placed, i see your smiling green eyes looking up at me as you hear the click and whir of the camera, i see your lips move though i can't hear what you're saying. and when i wake up, i only remember that, and your hands.
i'm actually in love with classic rock and her so this is that, and yeah
When I am alone the dark thoughts return. You don't know me. Like parasites they rot me from the inside out. Making me scream inside. Death is my master. Sitting on a storm playing puppets with my emotions. Controlled calculated movements. A darkness in my eyes. I'm trying to grasp reality but only capable of gasping anxiety. I'm trying mother but the waves are too high. Goodbye world. I've seen enough. "computer turn off."
This is made up. Not based upon me or anyone else. Inspired by Radioheads, Fitter Happier.
I travel trough the heavy rain I sit lonesome on a lonely train I play blues These days are grey, these nights are blue my mind keeps coming back to you I play the blues
I travel with desire Past houses lit on fire I play jazz Windows lit by sundown My train-seat old and rundown I play jazz
Rainbow roads in colored blurr Pretty little towns I'm sure I play swing Past mirror waves and open sky My stomach tingles, wonder why I Play swing
***** feet on ***** train Skin so white I see my veins I play punk Impatient taps and flickering lights Soon the day will turn to night I play punk
Head in the clouds, mind at ease Longing for the morning breeze I play Pink Floyd Memories hanging from branches Passengers sharing brief glances I play Pink Floyd
I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still... I travel not by force... yet not by will Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film beyond the windowsill
I wrote this as a little homage to my lonesome travels. I fittingly wrote it on a train during sundown, but it's about my memories as a homeless teenager with no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere and do something. It's also about that longing for someone I hadn't yet met, that empty space reserved for someone you know you'll eventuelly meet. Luckily, this time I was on my way home to that someone. I imagine this poem as lyrics to a jazzy tune. Maybe I'll get to try it out one day. I'm no great singer, but I'm reserving space for a trumpet solo in there somewhere.
A band without an audience Two thousand years of history An amphitheater Vesuvius still is trembling It always echoes through time Eternity on the run I hear down, down. Down, down. The star is screaming It shares its greatest secrets Its always us and them And in the end We're only ordinary men How do you feel? And if your head explodes with dark forboding too From the dark side of the moon We'll set the controls for the heart of the sun And call to you across the sky We end to become echoes again Vesuvius Still Trembles At the glory of our music